Closed Doors, Open Windows

Dios mío, ¿qué haré ahora? What am I going to do?

Luna turned and looked up into his dark glistening eyes and felt her heart constrict. In had taken 5 years to get him to crack a grin and now 12 to spring a tear. Her own face was streaked with sweat, grime and sadness. They had fought the good fight, but the dream was done. No amount of repositioning of tables, creation of covered, heated outdoor spaces, mountains of biodegradable eco-friendly to-go packaging could bring back the comradery, compañerismo, that had patrons once tagging the Bean Pub as the best Coffee Bar in the Northwest. They tried it all, yet the bills finally outweighed the efforts. One by one, she had looked into the eyes of her best friends, her family, and told them their livelihood was dissolving into fear and uncertainty.

Peter was the only one left to help her carry boxes to her car. There wasn’t much, his presence was more an emotional support than actual muscle. Strong and serious, he had lived up to his name over the years. Rock. And now even the Rock was cracking.

It was just too much. Traspaso. How do you even say that in English? She wasn’t selling. Or perhaps more accurately, no one was buying. In times of lockdown, who had the capital to purchase old dreams? She wouldn’t make a profit on her equipment, investment, years of blood, sweat and tears; it was more of a transfer. The new owner would simply take possession of all she had worked so hard to build, assume her rent and debt for a small remuneración, really symbolic pocket change.

Now, with Peter’s hand on her shoulder and the sight of the tears in his eyes, it was all she could do to bite her tongue and not scream from the unjustness of it all. The virus had already claimed her grandfather and great aunt in Mexico, her cousin Jaime in Texas and now it had laid siege to the business that had promised to help her take hold of her very own American Dream.

No, it hadn’t laid siege. It had won the whole war. But the virus was a nebulous entity, toward which it was difficult to focus her anger. The new owner, however, was a physical, tangible presence who was just as callous and carefree about the destruction she wreaked. This was not the first business she was rescuing, nor would it be the last. And to have the nerve to call it a rescue. Oh darling, we will gladly save you from your mounting debt and certain bankruptcy. Yes, we will gladly benefit from your hard work. We are overjoyed to inherit the bounty of your dreams in the time of your most desperate need.

Peter shifted his hand from its place of rest, brushed her dark hair forward and gently began to massage Luna’s shoulders as if willing her to release all tension and accept what was to come. Contrary to many a first impression, Peter, was not her body guard nor bouncer, but rather Luna’s best friend. The rough exterior shielded the world from the most sensitive and caring heart she had ever known.

Taking his hands in her own, Luna turned slowly and met his gaze.

“I know. It is what it is. And it will be whatever it will be.” Peter had always encouraged her to let go of the things she couldn’t control. She looked back at the building that had held her life for more than a decade. “Can’t change things now, so let’s get this over with. We’re supposed to leave the key in the lock box out back.”

With a swift toss, Peter put the rest of their personal items into the Subaru and grabbed Luna’s hand. She couldn’t help but smile. He seemed to know she wouldn’t be able to turn the key in unless he guided her to the alley. As they approached the dumpster next to the back door, she wondered just how safe the box really was from the less desirables of society who always seemed to know just when the weak were at their most vulnerable. Would it be tragedy or karma if someone broke the box, took the key, and stole from the very vulture who was preying on her disgrace.

“Yeah, well, I don’t care anyway. It’s no longer mine to worry about,” Luna said as she tossed the key in the box and turned the dial.

“What?” Luna looked at Peter, trying to read the look in his eyes. She followed his gaze to something red that was sticking out from under the dumpster.

“What’s…?” Luna stopped as Roca handed her the zippered pouch and motioned to the monogrammed CG on the side.

“Oh my! This belongs to her. The wicked…” Luna hesitated, searching for the right word. Not the one she really wanted to say, but the nicest one she could conjure given the circumstances, “…witch of the Northwest. Carol Guardiola.”

Without hesitation, Luna pulled back the zipper and gasped. Peter’s eyes grew wide, and he whistled low and long.

“There must be…” Luna flipped through the bills, not wanting to pull any out into the lamplight. The sun had gone down, those who walk the shadows would soon be out to play. Even a pandemic can’t keep everyone indoors.

“I mean I can’t tell how much, but there’s more money than I’ve ever seen in this bag!” Luna lowered her voice to a whisper and looked around furtively. She had been jumped once for $100 and the watch her yaya had given her when she graduated college. People kill for less than this!

Peter repositioned his wide frame blocking the view of any passersby. He looked at Luna, head cocked in question.

“I don’t know. There’s probably enough here to help me get my feet back on the ground. How ironic that the… lady that is taking away my dream could inadvertently be giving me a new start. What do they say about closing doors and opening windows?” Luna looked at Peter, her heart racing with possibilities.

“You know what this money could do for us? She would never know that we found it. She probably hasn’t even realized its missing. It was probably payoff for her next dastardly caper.”

Luna quickly zipped the pouch closed and tucked it under her armpit. Thinking better of it, she secured it in her backpack and flipped the straps around so the bag sat on her stomach, clutched between her arms.

Leaving Peter to trail behind, Luna headed for the car, engaged in an audible conversation with herself, or with God as she would say. It was the only way she could figure things out, talking them over with her Heavenly Father. And it was what Peter loved most about her.

“You drive. I have to think.” Peter unlocked the Subaru and locked the doors again behind them. He didn’t pull out of the parking space right away, but rather watched in the warmth of the idling car, the streetlights casting their glow on the woman wrestling with the figurative spirits on her shoulders. He could almost see one dressed winged in white, the other in red, pitchfork in hand.

“¿De verdad, Dios?” Luna looked out at the stars out the window and sighed. Peter wondered if perhaps she really did talk to God. It seemed, however, that she had gotten an answer that he wasn’t sure she really wanted.

“Ok.” Her eyes turned to her friend, once again filled with fire, but this time coupled with peace.

“I know what we have to do.” Peter watched as she fished around in her backpack, smiling as she found what she was looking for. She quickly dialed the all too familiar number.

“Señora Guardiola? Hi, this is Luna from the Bean Pub. I think you may have left something here the other day when you set up the lock box.”

Peter couldn’t hear the exact words but there was no mistaking the fear, the panic and then the relief in the voice on the other end of the line. For the second time in 12 years, he wiped a tear from his cheek as he watched the only woman he had ever loved, trade security for integrity.

“Twenty thousand dollars?” Luna looked at Peter, her eyes wide, “Yes, ma’am. I believe it’s all here. I don’t think the bag had been opened. It was outside under the dumpster. Yes, ma’am. We’re still here. We’ll wait for you to come.”

Luna put the phone on the dash and turned to Peter, resting her hand on his, “Well, my friend… it appears that businesses come and go, money comes and goes, where do we go from here?”

It was one of those moments where time stops, just for a heartbeat, where you inhale sharply, and can’t breathe out because you know if you do, the world will end as you know it. Everything you have ever doubted is suddenly crystal clear and while you haven’t the foggiest idea what is coming in the future, you are absolutely sure who you want by your side when you face it.

If words were often difficult for Peter, there was no way he’d be able to verbalize the thought that now consumed him. Signaling with a raised hand, he motioned to Luna to hold that thought….

Looking around the car for just the right object, he opened the glove compartment and spied the little black notebook Luna used for writing down the thoughts, ideas and contemplations on life she didn’t want to escape from memory. Perfect.

An instant of doubt threatened to tumble the tower of hope that was quickly erecting in his heart and again, Peter found it hard to breathe. Before any other thought could dissuade him, he quickly penned the words that would either make or break this unstoppable team, writing them in careful Spanish to speak directly to her heart.

In a gesture as unromantic as the setting around him, Peter thrust the notebook into Luna’s hands and looked away, afraid his intuition had completely missed the mark.

She gasped, or perhaps there is another way to describe the rapid intake of air that someone makes when surprised, a way to distinguish joy from dismay. Erasing any doubt the sound may have provoked, two hands on his cheeks turned Peter toward that beautiful, grime-streaked face that was now covered with tears. Luna looked deep into his eyes, trying to reach the depth of his soul.

A firm kiss planted on his lips, finally gave the answer he so longed to hear.

“Yes, Peter. Me casaré contigo. I will marry you.”