Over
the years, the memory of Sophia Paula had inspired a myriad of poems. Although
he had long been writing poetry before she entered his life, when he left for the
military, he had not yet learned how to write without thinking of her.
So much emotion lingered for her like the
scent left after an embrace. He had penned dozens of verses, in a tiny note
pad, during the brief moments he had to himself: sometimes standing in
formation before and after meals, or lying on his bunk at the end of the day's
training.
When members of his platoon learned of
his skill with a pen, they requested poetry for the loves they had left behind.
That was when he knew that he would make a living as a songwriter.
He had established a system of
appointments for his clients to describe the women they loved. He listened as
they revealed how they met, where they fought, why they mattered, and when they
had planned to marry.
Those distant lovers were as precious to
them as Sophia Paula was to Hadriel Alighieri. And though he personalized every
poem—the hundreds he had written for others and their hopeless love—page after
page burned with the affection he felt for Sophia Paula.
In an era when romantic poetry remained
reserved for literature courses, hidden within the pages of books that nobody
opened, Hadriel Alighieri earned a reputation as the soldier's scribe. He wrote
about every imaginable circumstance when it came to matters of the heart. A
tempest of metrical composition, and Sophia Paula lingered in the eye of his
storm.
To remind her that she had not been
forgotten, he had written a letter to her about his experiences, his hopes, and
his fears. He made no mention of love, because he reserved that secret for his
heart.
Two
weeks later, she sent him a photograph that hung in his private locker. His
platoon mates did not believe he knew her until they read the personal message
that she wrote and signed: For my best friend! She included a separate
note that bid him good luck, and a humorous bit of advice: Remember, don't
drop the soap!
He wrote her back immediately, but her
thoughts never returned. Her memory kept him going. Emotions bled through his
pen freely, augmenting his renown as a romantic poet.
He wrote love letters and poems for
fellow recruits, and instructed them to re-write them with their own hand, but
he imagined that he wrote to Sophia. When the lovers wrote back, it was he who
had to reply. And so it was that he engaged in a feverish correspondence with
faceless lovers that cherished someone else. Each letter written and received,
every poem penned with genuine affection that Hadriel Alighieri believed
dripped with the warmth Sophia Paula would have felt upon reading his thoughts
had she shared his passion.
The days were long and his nights were
longer, but despite the controlled chaos, he could not avoid lyricism, because
his thoughts were only of Sophia Paula.
The seasons changed. The trainees had
changed with them. Yet, despite the manner in which everything grew colder, at
his core Hadriel remained the boy he had always been.
The soldiers rose before the sun. They
endured the hour of physical training before breakfast, and watched their days
blur by as they prepared for a series of tests to determine that they were fit
for graduation, and ready for war.
The surplus of testosterone led to
confrontations between the young men who grew impatient about returning home,
but cooler minds prevailed, and their focus remained on their goals.
Hadriel hoped to return home like the
fabled soldier in uniform. Properly groomed, and worthy of his heart's fancy.
Regardless of the thirty pounds of muscle he had gained and a more serious
demeanor, there remained evidence in his eyes of his mortal encounter with
love.
He suffered through sleepless nights
after he kindled the fires of love. His intention was to keep the coals alive
until she felt inclined to reciprocate his feelings. He would have pursued her
with more fervor had he known the terrain of her emotions, but they didn't know
each other well enough to truly venture into love.
His ignorance proved fatal to their
future, because a man cannot truly love a woman until he knows her first.
He lost himself in fantasies that never
came to pass—his yearnings unfulfilled—but the visions comforted him, because
in that way she remained in his life.
Although many sought to sway his heart
with flattery and seduction, he declared that he would wait for love. And when
others tried to convince him that love was an illusion, he remained steadfast
in the idea that love is the only thing worth waiting for an eternity.
At nineteen years of age, undaunted, Hadriel
Alighieri loved unconditionally, without reservation and without despair.
When he returned from his military
service, Hadriel Alighieri learned that Dr. Fermin Luis Paula had been offered
an opportunity to practice medicine in the United States. La Familia Paula
emigrated from Mexico to America, and settled in Chicago where Dr. Paula
attended Loyola University Medical Center.
They returned to Santa Lucia in December
for a series of festivities: beginning on December 12th with el Día de la Virgen de Guadalude, Las Posadas, which ran from the 16th
to the 24th—the Biblical New Testament story of Joseph and Mary’s
search for shelter in Bethlehem, Navidad on December 25th, el Día de los Santos Innocentes, Año Nuevo Vìspera—New
Year’s Eve, and concluded on the 6th of January by el Día de los
Reyes Magos.
The day that Hadriel Alighieri saw Sophia Paula
on the steps of the basilica, he was seated on a bench in the plaza reading a
book. He had not known of her arrival in Santa Lucia. He felt his heart break
with each beat for inexplicable reasons.
Does
she not wish to see me,
he wondered. Perhaps there had been no occasion or means to notify him of her
arrival. Hadriel Alighieri could not be sure, and he struggled to distract
himself from one suspicion or the other.
Her hair had grown long, and straight, and
hanged loosely over her shoulders. She wore a long white dress, plain, yet
charming in its simplicity. Their eyes met. Sophia Paula did not seem to share
the enthusiasm of the festivities, but when she approached, Hadriel Alighieri
believed she was happy to see him.
They sat together on the bench in the plaza. She
spoke of Chicago, the Windy City, and its myriad of skyscrapers and restaurants
and museums. The stark contract between its historic architecture and bustling
nightlife amazed her.
“It is a different world from Santa Lucia.”
Sophia Paula remarked.
She asked about his time in the army. She
inquired about his writing and about his plans, but she didn’t say that she
missed him, or that she thought of him, and he didn’t dare ask her why. It
wasn’t for lack of affection, for Sophia Paula cared deeply for Hadriel
Alighieri. But she was careful not to tip the scale of their friendship, which
hung delicately in the balance.
Perhaps the opportunity had been there in their
youth, or perhaps that opportunity only lingered in Hadriel Alighieri’s
imagination. The truth was that after all the time that had passed; she cared
about him too much to deceive him with the false promise of love.
When they parted for the day, after she invited
his family to the grand dinner at her home, Hadriel Alighieri had a nagging
suspicion that his chance had not been lost. He had heard from the men in his
platoon that when women deny a man’s affections, she does so to test his
resolve. She waits for him to pursue his passion, and prove his level of
desire, for men are notorious with words of devotion, and exiguous with actions
of love.
That
night, Hadriel Alighieri decided to recite a poem to Sophia Paula. He was going
to reveal to her, once again, the secret in his heart. She would accept or
deny. But she would not live her life wondering if he was still in love a year
after his initial declaration.
Guests filled the home. Every object of value
polished. The walls lined with frescoes and statues. The tables set with the
finest linen and silverware and china. La Familia Paula brought with them, from
America, the custom of lining the windows with Christmas lights and a large
Christmas tree.
After the meal, which consisted of tamales and
atole and buñuelos, everyone gathered in the main room for refreshments and
galetina de colores. The adults danced to the music and children took their
turns swiping at a piñata on the
terrace. When the clock neared midnight, neither Sophia Paula nor Hadriel
Alighieri realized that the event would change their lives permanently.
With the intention to dazzle her, he
knelt before her, and held eleven roses behind his back. She smiled at him, her
lovely eyes twinkled like stars that twinkle before dawn, and he recited to her
his poem as he handed her the eleven roses one-at-a-time.
"Before I woke up this morning
You were on my mind,
And after I awakened
You were still the only one I could find
Thinking of the most special way
My heart may someday purpose,
I’m thinking of how to tell you that
This bouquet is not missing a rose."
Sophia’s lovely smile beckoned Hadriel to
continue.
"The first rose and the second rose
Are to tell you that I miss you
And I love you,
The third rose and the fourth rose
Reveal how much I want to kiss you
And think of you
The fifth rose and the sixth rose
Of this dedicated bouquet,
Are for the sweetness of your heart
And the things you've done to make my day
Continuing on the count
With roses seven, eight and nine;
Can only begin to describe the many ways
I want to share with you my time
Sweet rose number ten
And beautiful rose number eleven,
Are for each of my eyes you have opened
To see that falling in love is heaven
But if finding that final rose
Is what you truly want to do?
It’s not missing from this bouquet
Just look into the mirror
And watch it stare right back at
you."
Hadriel stood and motioned for Sophia
Paula to turn around. Together they gazed into the mirror.
She looked at their reflection
momentarily, seeing them as they looked a billionth of a second ago before her
gaze fell to the roses in her arms.
She turned, embraced him, and whispered,
"Thank you, Hadriel." She vanished, and he had no idea that would be
the last time he held her in his arms.
That night he handed her eleven roses, a
letter, and the deepest part of his heart. He had hoped she would cherish the
memory all of her life.
La Señora Keila looked
at him with deepest sympathy. The crowd stood confounded by Sophia Paula's
reaction. Hadriel said goodnight, and a few days later he learned that La
Familia Paula left the country.
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