“Just keep the car runnin’, ese.”
Spooky was a big guy, tattoos up and down his arm
and a glass eye. He normally would have just kept Dio from leaving at all, but he knew
nothing could stop him. Nothing at all. Dio jumped out the car. It was a ‘57 Chevy, slick
red, with a chili-pepper-hot Mexican heina painted across the hood. Dio had painted that
picture himself. Complete with chrome wheels.
He slammed the door shut and looked up at the
Cathedral in front of him. Lightning illuminated its majestic towers, windows with an eerie
stained glass. He’d spent many a night imagining this would be where he’d marry her. They’d
have a huge wedding with members of their families flying in from all over the world just to
watch this event; this marriage he thought was so destined to be. He’d put his everything
into this dream, his one and only dream, and now as he yanked the heavy Oak doors open, his
heart pounded like a subwoofer.
He dried his soaked clothes with his hand and
scratched his shoes on the mat so as not to squeak across the old wood floor. The church was
jam-packed, mostly with Mexicans and Puerto Ricans, but some blacks.
Probably his familia, Dio thought. How could she
even think about marrying some pinche negro?
The grand organ music permeated the building while
a choir of children sang, their voices echoing throughout the church. It smelled musty in
the air, a mix of wood stain and must as if they never really cleaned the place, just
painted over it.
He tried not to be too suspicious, slipping past
every one. Funny, he was dressed probably better than he’d ever been. Black suit, his wavy
black hair slicked back, starched white shirt, polished black shoes.
Dio had grown into a very nice looking young man.
Maybe even could have been a model, had he played his cards right. Maybe if he hadn’t grown
up in the slums of Northeast Vegas, he could have been one of those Latin heartthrobs that
were in those magazines. Instead, most of the time he looked like the thug most people
assumed he was just by looking at him.
But on this day, this very weird day, he was even
wearing a tie. Jennifer would have been so proud of him if she could see him. Funny, he’d
probably be the last thing she’d see.
He checked his jacket pocket to make sure it was
still there. Yep, it felt like a brick pressed against his chest. But he was so numb, or
more like so focused, that he was oblivious to it. All he knew was that he had to find
Jennifer, and he would use any means necessary.
Wham! Dio bumped hard into a glass table. His
thigh throbbed in pain as bullets dropped from his pocket and bounced off the tile floor.
The sound echoed all over the lobby. People looked around for the source of the sound, but
Dio managed to scoop them up before anyone could see.
He got up and noticed the beautiful ice sculpture
on the table--melting, dripping like an ice cream cone in August. Melting just like his
heart.
He saw Father Martínez, his priest, the one he’d
grown up with. It was as if the whole world had turned against him. They’d sided with
Jennifer, when this was supposed to be their wedding. It was as if she’d slapped him across
the face, as if nothing they’d been through together even mattered. The whole thing was
surreal.
She loved him. She’d said that over and over to
him since they were little kids. She’d taken care of him and believed in him and dreamed
with him and held him when nobody else could give a care.
“Estoy aquí para ti. No matter what -- Siempre,”
they’d promised each other. And a promise was a promise.
"Don’t be stupid, Foo’. Don’t be a pendejo.” His
brother’s scolding remarks kept playing in his head. He warned Dio to just let it go. It
wasn’t worth it. Normally Spooky would have been all for it, but this time around he said to
“olvídalo…let it go.” It was as if he sensed something was going to go wrong and, no matter
how high Spooky had been, his gut was always right.
Dio only hoped this time around he was wrong. He
had worked so hard. He could really get a fresh new start now, “a new lease on life,” as his
probation officer used to say, but now he was risking it all to confront Jennifer.
Was Spooky right? Should he just let it go, face
it that she didn’t want to be with him no matter how hard and bad it felt? Should he just
forget the whole thing? Maybe he’d meet some other ruca. Time heals all wounds, they say,
and maybe if he’d just -- But no, Dio shoved those thoughts out of his mind.
He’d spent the last year changing his life around
for her, so they could be together, so he would be the man she said she’d always wanted, so
he could be the daddy his daughter needed. They were meant to be together and he was going
to make Jennifer understand that, if it was the last thing he would do.
He could see Jennifer’s family in the front,
dressed in their Sunday best. Her mom always made a spectacle of herself with her gigantic
summer hat in purple. She never did like Dio and he knew she probably orchestrated this
whole thing, probably arranged the whole wedding herself.
He wondered if perhaps Jennifer was doing this
just to make her mom happy, but then he saw her … the music changed, the children’s choir
sounded so beautiful, he had to admit, so irritatingly perfect. All heads turned and gasped
as the bride, Jennifer, made her way down the aisle. Her father took her arm, biting his
lip, trying not to cry.
He looks nervous, Dio thought.
Jennifer looked incredible. How could she afford a
dress like that? The guy must be rich or something. That’s probably what it was. That’s
probably why she was marrying him. It had to be the money, the one thing Dio could never
give her. Her gown had a laced top, cut just low enough to show her sensual bust line, but
high enough to showcase the first class-act that she was. Her face was shielded by her veil.
He hadn’t seen her in so long. It seemed like the whole auditorium held their breath with
him.
Her mom made a dramatic spectacle of herself; her
wails were the only thing that could be heard above the organ playing as the children’s
choir reached a crescendo, then trailed off.
There wasn’t a dry eye in the house. Even Dio had
to fight the tears.
Thunder rumbled. Her father escorted her over to
her groom. He was a nice looking man, a light-skinned black man. Maybe he was mulatto or
something. He wore a striped, stuffed tie, not a traditional bow tie, and the tux must have
been Armani or something. He had one of those smiles with teeth so white it blinded you. His
gaze never left Jennifer, even as the priest rambled on and on with the vows.
“I, Antonio Estrella ---“
What kind of nombre was that? Estrella? Jennifer
Estrella. It just didn’t match her. No le queda.
“… hereby take you as my wife, to have and to
hold…”
There was a lump in the back of Dio’s throat. He
wanted to burst out “No!” but it hurt so bad.
“I, Jennifer Lalita Sánchez …” He couldn’t believe
his ears, she was promising him her life.
Thunder rumbled, the lights went out. There was a
small gasp in the audience, but Jennifer just smiled, the candles illuminating her. She was
too lost in the groom’s eyes.
“…to have and to hold, through sickness and health
…” she continued.
He couldn’t help it anymore. Tears came streaming
from Dio’s eyes. This was too much for him. He was about to explode. His blood
boiled.
He looked around at all the stained-glass Bible
stories, the creepy statue of Jesus on the cross. He swore Jesus was glaring right at him as
if he was saying “No lo hagas…Don’t do it.”
He looked the other way but the statue of the
Virgin Mary scolded him as well.
Dio couldn’t help but think how proud his own
mother had been with how he’d changed his life around, the tears of joy she’d shed. He’d
never seen her like that before. He shuddered to think how his mother would feel after all
this went down, how ashamed she’d be. Maybe it would drive her to drinking again. Drinking
again after how far she’d come around.
“With the power invested in me in the state of
Nevada, I hereby declare you … man and wife.”
Dio couldn’t breathe. The only thing that kept him
from passing out was seeing Jennifer’s face as her new husband lifted the veil. She was more
beautiful than ever. She had olive-colored skin and was the type of girl that never did need
any makeup, in fact she hated wearing it. But this time she was wearing just enough. Her
dark brown hair was curled, glitter sparkled in it.
She looked like an angel, no, a goddess, better
than the pictures Dio drew of her, better than he’d remembered her looking in his dreams.
He’d never seen Jennifer so happy. Not even when
she was with him. She always seemed so distracted, but now she really did look like she was
in love.
How could that be possible?
He loved her more than he’d ever loved anyone.
Didn’t she see that? How could she do this to him? The ice sculpture melted like it was on
fire.
His heart raced as he reached for the .45 caliber
in his pocket, which Dio called his cuete. He could hear the rain pounding against the
stained-glass windows and the roof. His sweaty hands pulled for it, his heart in his throat.
He crossed himself, closed his eyes and prayed he was about to do the right
thing.
To read more of FOREVER MY LADY by Jeff Rivera
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