Mi Chica

The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains and warmed me as it kissed my hand. I opened my eyes. I rolled away from the light, wincing my eyes shut. Slowly I opened them again. The light was not glaring. In fact, it glowed against the wall and the plush leather sofa. There I saw her, lying still on the sofa. I was too weak to get out of the bed, but I lay beneath the bed covers, looking at her. As I looked on, I was reminded of the time when she first came into my life.

I was a kid then, unaware of my ever-changing surroundings. Being thrown into an unfamiliar environment, I was hustled and bogged down by the older children. I cried and ran to a corner, unable to express my sorrow otherwise. Through my sobs, I heard a soft song. I still remember holding back my tears for a moment with my ears perked up to catch the new sound. Slowly I followed the sound. It led me to a corner behind the library. And I set my eyes on the most magnificent sight. I saw her in the company of an older man, surrounded by younger children listening intently. I peered from the corner of the wall, not wanting to be seen. But I could not help and stare at her. She was not like them; she was different and full of melody. Music filled the air as everyone, including me looked on in awe. And when she stopped, there was silence. I could not resist and clapped out of happiness, not realizing that I had blown my cover. Immediately all eyes were on me. Quickly I shied away, running to the library.

That night when I got to bed, I could not really sleep. I had thought of all those boys who would constantly bully me and dishearten me. And then would I think of her. I could very well remember the way she looked, and the way her music held me in a hypnotic stance. Before I closed my eyes, I knew that I would see her again, the next day.

The next day I went to the library. And there she was, again engaged with the older man from yesterday. I was shy to move on. Suddenly I saw the older man get up and leave. This was my moment. I, a confused teenager who wanted to touch her badly, walked. I stopped close to her, uncertain of my actions. Slowly I laid my hand on her shoulder. She was reclining on the chair. She had a shiny smooth skin, and a graceful long neck. She felt cool at touch as I slid my fingers up her neck. As a teenager, I was the happiest person at that moment. Just then I felt someone’s hand grasp my shoulder. The older man was back, looking at me questioningly. Alarmed, my heart skipped a beat. I stood there speechless. He looked at me intently and asked me if I liked her. I looked at him and her, and out of fear, shook my head sideways. He relaxed his grip on my shoulder and smiled. He told me to sit down. I sat, looking at him and wary of her presence. He looked at me closely, and said that he knew that I was lying. And ever since that moment, starting with her, my life changed. Every day since, I have known a part of my life that was not dominated with disgust and lonesome nights. With her very presence, I had seen all my despair vanish. I was smitten. Every moment when we used to sit together, everything else blurred. The moment I would hold her in my arms, I would draw her body close, feeling her cool and smooth skin slip beneath my fingers. And with her, the thoughts and music of my heart would always be heard. That was the deepest satisfaction that I would derive. Clearly, she was the first one to comprehend my thoughts.

But my happiness was short lived. The older man came to me one day, and brought with him some bad news. He was leaving. I listened in silence. I knew what his next words were going to be. She would be leaving with him. I asked if I could see her again. He shrugged and told me that she had already left ahead of him with his other luggage. There was an eerie silence between us. He shook my hand and left. I did not know how to react. So I slowly walked behind the library, to the place where I first saw her. As I sat there at the steps, I heard a car leave. I got up to see beyond the school compound wall. There I saw the older man leave the premises. As I watched his car disappear around the corner, I felt a sudden heaviness in my heart. It was a weird feeling, just like the moment when my parents put me in this boarding school. And that was when I realized how close she had become to me.

Years passed since that fateful day. I managed to drown my worries in another pastime. Since I did not have her to understand my thoughts, I realized that the best person was, me. A bit of an irony, but I knew that I would not let myself down. So I resorted to writing. It had been a solid and very valuable action that always reminded me what I thought. As I grew, I would occasionally look back at all my thought. There were times when I laughed at the innocent bloopers I committed as a kid, sadly remembered certain incidents of my past, but most importantly, I felt proud of the many decisions and choices I made that had defined my life, so far. Days passed by, and I began to move away from the very thought of her. Until that fateful day arrived.

I now lived downtown. I had my own apartment, courtesy my company. Life was hectic, with many schedules and deadlines too tight to keep pace with. The life that I lived had its own perks, and this spacious apartment was one of them. I began meeting more people, and that helped me keep my spirits high in tense situations. But every time I got back home, I would be so tired that I would crash into the bed. As I lay still in bed and feel my body melt away, emptiness would creep into my heart. Since childhood, I would always think of my first love; left me alone, to depart with the older man. This very thought made me cringe my eyes shut, preventing a tear slip by. Just then I heard a knock. It came from the main door. I glanced at my watch. It was a quarter past one. I wondered who could come by so late. I dragged myself to the door and called out. There was silence. I called out again. I did not hear anything. Silence was ringing in my ears. Cautious and wary, I slowly opened the door. I peered outside. Nobody was there. It must be those mischievous kids down the corridor, I thought to myself. As I shut the door, something in the hallway caught my eye. I opened the door once again and looked out. And for the first time in many years, I felt a cold chill run down my spine.

I could not believe my eyes. I could clearly see her standing in front of me. Well, she was in the darkness, which was why I did not notice her. But the moment I saw her, I felt happiness fill up within me so fast that tears welled in my eyes. Quickly I brought her in, and laid her at the sofa. She looked shabby, but still carried that familiar charm. I sat next to her, looking at her. I still could not believe my eyes. Just when I was wondering what she was doing here, I noticed a folded paper in her possession. I took the paper and read it. It was from the older man. By the time I read the letter, sadness filled me. The older man was dying, and was worried for her. Somehow he managed to find me, and decided that she was best under my care. I folded the letter and clasped my hand. I sat in silence, slowly absorbing the situation. Then I turned to her and drew her close. As my fingers traced the corners of her shoulders, I felt the familiar smooth skin slide at my touch. Gently, without saying a word, I drew her close, with her finally resting on my lap. As I held her that way, I whispered to her, telling her that I would never let her go. And then, as in the years gone past, music of my heart filled the room. I closed my eyes, and felt light headed. She is mine, I told myself. And then I slept.

Now, back in the present, I was still in bed, watching her at the sofa. As the morning rays shone on her, her body glistened in the light, highlighting her curvaceous body. Slowly I got up from my bed and walked towards her. I lifted her off the sofa gently and held her close. I still could not get over her smooth touch and the lovely music she made with my thoughts.

Then I bent down, and picked up a damp cloth I had left on the table the previous night. Slowly and gently, I wiped her body. She was messy, but each wipe increased her beauty. Gently I ran the cloth down her neck. Slender as it was, it was now glistening even more in the morning light. I held each of the pins in her head and tweaked them till satisfaction. And finally I ran a finger down her lustrous hair. I smelt her now. She now emanated a woody scent that made me feel just right. Finally satisfied with my effort, I sat on the sofa with her in my arms. I played with her lustrous hair, while music began to fill the bedroom. The familiar sound was ringing in my ears. And I was content. For my first love, the older man’s Spanish guitar, was now my ‘chica’, my only love.