Adore: My First Short Story

SONYT 2021- CREATIVE WRITING FINAL PROJECT

(I don’t write fiction, this is a fun one for sure)

This was my first time writing fiction and attempting to step out of my comfort zone. By no means is this good or the next best-selling novel, but I am proud of creating something different from anything I've ever written. This was my final project for my School of The New York Times creative writing course, I had the best time with authors Nakfote Tamirat and Joss Lake, it truly was such an amazing experience to get to write with complete liberty in a different genre. So here's "ADORE" my very first attempt at a psychological thriller short story.

ADORE

The first time I saw Elle Miller was the summer of 2018. It was about 2:25 p.m when I started seeing some movement in the house that’d been up for rent for a year now. I was sitting on my windowsill drinking my afternoon tea when I noticed the movers arrive, they started lowering all kinds of furniture and boxes. I was curious to see who my new neighbor could be.

“It'll probably be one of those annoying grandma’s that will ask to meet for tea and criticize my patatas bravas,” I thought.

I gave up on my intrigue and stood up to leave my cup and wash the dishes, like the good housewife that I am. When I was done, I grabbed my Márquez book from the studio and headed to my living room. That was when I saw her, not a grandma but a drop-dead gorgeous ashy blonde. Through the window I could tell she was about twenty, she looked young but old enough to move into a small townhome. She’s probably one of those women who move to Barcelona thinking their lives will suddenly have a purpose. When I looked back she was glowing, smiling like she had just been told she won the lottery, she was ordering the movers around her new home.

“Poor gringa”, I sighed.

Only an American would be happy in this neighborhood, doesn’t she see this place is a trap? This neighborhood is filled with women like me, mothers who love their children to death but can't stand them, and husbands who spend all day “trabajando” when we know they’re in Calle Can Bruixa leaving fidelity out of their vocabulary. Without any other thoughts, I shut the curtains in the living room and opened my book hoping nobody would intervene with my alone time and this new neighbor wouldn’t bother me either.

It was a Monday at about midday, I had just finished making lunch for Marcelo and Mauri, my 12 and 8-year-old boys. I was washing all of my utensils, and I could see her from the window above my sink. She was drinking straight from the bottle of what seemed like Calafuria rosé wine in her living room, looking completely at peace. She suddenly stood up with those beautiful long legs of hers, she had absolutely zero cellulite and beautiful olive skin. She went to turn up some music and out of nowhere she started dancing, she danced like no one was watching probably because she didn't know I was. She swayed her hips in every direction, she jumped now and then, she threw her hair up and down and side to side. Her image was one of freedom, she was pure bliss. I couldn’t help but reminisce on my twenties when I used to look like her.

“Wine at midday! God, look at me washing dishes for chicken nuggets and Mac n Cheese!” I shouted in frustration. I couldn’t help but feel pity for myself.

“Mami?” I heard Marcelo from behind the kitchen counter.

“Yes, Mijo?” I could already anticipate he wanted something. These kids I swear, they can’t go thirty minutes without asking for something.

“Can I go play fútbol at Jose’s?” He asked doubtfully.

“You know how I feel about his Tia, I wouldn’t want her to be speaking with you,” I looked at him seriously.

José’s Tia, Mary was about ten years younger than me and lived with her sister Teresa, Jose’s mother. She’d always made harsh comments about me or my appearance. She would flirt with John, my husband in front of me as if I were invisible to them. I’ve spoken about it with John and thankfully he keeps his distance from Mary at least, I truly hate her.

“You won’t have to see her and I’ll make sure she leaves Jose and I alone,” Marcelo pleads, hoping I’d allow it.

“Only if you promise to come back at 3:30 and she won’t speak to you! ” He comes around the kitchen counter and kisses my cheek.

“Thank you, Mami!” He didn’t bother staying one more second in the house, he ran to the door and closed it behind him leaving me and Mauri alone. Mauri spends most of his time drawing, he truly believes he’ll be the next Picasso and who am I to destroy those dreams. He draws with crayons, often the ones we steal from the diner on Sundays. The drawings consist of stick figures and badly drawn landscapes but I’d adore those drawings any day because he is my little boy.

With Marcelo out with Jose and Mauri upstairs drawing in his room, I find myself wishing John would be here. John was just another gringo living wildly when we met, he was so unique or so I thought at the time. We met at a bar, I know, so wildly romantic. My cousin Lucia and I went to meet with some friends we had made over our relationships. I was dating this guy called Mateo at the time, just another bad decision in my twenties. He came from a good family and was known as a good husband to be, but in all honesty, he was such a dick. He would leave me in a corner and get drunk by himself, that was where John found me that night, in a corner.

He came up to me with a charming smile. I could tell he wasn’t from around here because he had such different features to Spanish men. He was tall, probably double my size, he had beautiful emerald eyes, a pale complexion, prominent cheekbones, and his brown curls fell in a messy but beautiful way. God, he was such a sight.

“Buenas Señorita,” He spoke in his thick American accent.

“Hello,” I said shyly. He was wildly intimidating but inviting and calm at the same time.

“You speak English?” He asked with a slight smile.

I nodded, feeling very new to this kind of interaction. I’d never been one to catch guys' attention, especially guys like John. Guys like John feel entitled to everything, they expect to get what they want and they always did. I wasn’t what society deems beautiful, I was not skinny, I had a genetically curvier body but not enough to be thought of as overweight. I was Spanish in every way, relatively tall, with brown eyes, dark hair, a broad nose, and a round face. I knew I wasn’t unattractive, but then guys like John would never come up to me.

That night he asked me to dance and of course, I accepted. Mateo raged and there was a small fight between him and John, I still think that was the reason John wanted me, he thought I was wanted and chased. After the fight, John asked for drinks and we danced all night in each other's arms. Then it was all dinners and family. I got to know him well enough to know both of his parents died in an accident and that was what attributed to his rebel move to Barcelona in his twenties. Once he took me on four dates, he asked me to be his girlfriend and I said yes. We were very much in love, it only took him two months of dating when he popped the question and suddenly I was his bride. I still think the rushing is to blame for all our problems.

For the first couple of years, we were on the best of terms, honeymoon, work, goals, sex, love, and all. Then I got to see his flaws, he loved isolation, and he wanted space when I wanted to be with him which drifted us apart greatly. And then came the anger issues, I couldn’t express my anger because he would get so mad he’d lay hands on me. Then came Marcelo and Mauri and for the first 4 years of our new family, he was a good man, a good father. He still is a great father, he looks after them and spends time with them but not me. I don’t know what it was I did, maybe it was age that repulsed him from me. Maybe he had been blind to my lack of beauty or maybe he just didn’t love me. Then, I noticed our problems probably had the shape of a woman, and when he started to deny it less, I understood. I could leave him if I wanted to, but it’s been fifteen years and I am not twenty-five anymore. I am a forty-year-old woman with two children and no job, my best chance at stability was this life. And so even if every day was the same, this was all I had.

The middle of the week came around quickly, you would be surprised at how little I had done since Monday. After Marcelo left I went back to my living room and sat on the couch to read, that was until my curiosity sparked up again. I went to sit at my windowsill, across the cement, and over the fence, I could see her. She was in her living room and seemed to be working on something. I couldn’t help but adore her features in their most casual state. Her hair fell on her shoulders like effortless waterfalls, her side part seemed so fitting for her narrow face, and her eyes were shielded by violet eyeglasses, ones that only made her emerald eyes pop. I smiled to myself, I took pleasure in her most modest fault, she couldn't see properly, but then I kept watching. That small fault was erased by her glowing collar bones, looking ever so delicate as she arranged her hair in a ponytail. I could see her face better now, she had a small crease on her forehead as she stared at her computer, seeming to be very focused. I stared for probably an hour that day, when she finished whatever she was working on she stood up and I felt a similar feeling to grief. I went back to my room, checked on Mauri, and then proceeded to fall into a stream of hateful thoughts about my life.

“How did I end here?” I whispered to myself, staring at my old somewhat wrinkled, and depressing reflection in my bathroom mirror. I knew I wasn’t starving or homeless, I had a family, I loved my kids, I had a home, and I cared for my husband, but when would that be enough for me? There was so much more to life that I had been stripped away from.

Thursday came around and I woke up excited only to go and sit at my windowsill, once again. It was very uncomfortable with just a thin blue layer of foam keeping me from touching the hard concrete, but it had quickly become my favorite spot. A month ago I had never sat there and it was sort of an abandoned spot in the house but after Elle’s arrival, it felt like it called me. I had sat there for the entire week, staring, waiting, and dreaming. I knew more about Elle by the end of the week, she had a best friend who had come around since Wednesday. I could tell they were unpacking and changing things up inside, her friend was pretty but not as much as Elle. She looked American and in her twenties as well, but she was much duller. Elle woke up at around 10:30 a.m, a luxury she could afford. I concluded that she worked from home since she was always stuck in her computer from 11 to 5 p.m. She ate the same thing each day, leftover pasta with tomato sauce and a soda. I was in awe of her simple living, how she managed to look divine doing the simplest of actions. After she finished her work, she would either watch T.V or invite people over. I was impressed by her social skills. I had imagined her as a loner, but I quickly found out even though she was new to this place she had a bunch of friends. By Tuesday she had people over every evening, and I could finally see her in a new space. She was wild and it seemed like everyone adored her, she was a lighthouse in a dark room. She had about six people over, this one brunette guy who was tall and not going to lie very attractive was chasing her in a not-so-subtle way. I thought about how many guys would die for her, she could have them with the snap of her finger and she didn't have to commit to any. She was the deity of liberty.

It was Saturday and John had taken the kids in a father bonding effort. For the first time, I was truly alone and I took that time for myself. I decided I wanted to do something nice so I went to the plaza, I did some shopping and looked for things that I would never usually buy. I decided to enter the salon and treat myself to a spa sort of day. It had been a rough week, I tormented myself by watching and adoring Elle. I am not going to lie I felt a wind of fear because I could be possibly missing something Elle was doing. But I needed to do this for myself to ensure I wasn’t living the same day over and over again. I finished my spontaneous trip to the plaza by shopping at the Bodega, it was something I hadn’t done in years. After that, I headed back home where John and the kids had already arrived.

When I got back, I unloaded the car and headed in, and quickly organized the stuff in the pantry and fridge. I sat in the living room and just when I started settling down John came downstairs to join me. He was wearing his casual attire, it seemed like he wasn’t going out today. I thought that was weird since I knew he usually fleeted during the weekend.

“What have you done?” John said in a perplexed tone.

“Hello to you too!” I said, dismissive of his comment.

“Why did you dye your hair?” He looked at me astoundingly and for the first time in years, he looked at me for more than five seconds.

“Oh! Do you like it?” I said shakily, he still intimidated me with that authoritative stare of his.

“I mean okay? But why would you go fully blonde, it’s almost white! You have never been the kind of woman to do this stuff.”

I stood up and went to hug him, something in me wanted to fuel his already troubled mind. I kissed him on the cheek and then I went to kiss his mouth, he didn’t deny me which already made me feel much more confident in myself. We kissed and I felt alive, it wasn’t until I deepened the kiss he pushed me away slightly he was flushed and my heart broke immediately.

“Carmen, I don’t know what's happened to you lately. The kids say you haven’t spent time with them this week and now this?” He said, anger starting to rush through his veins.

“What? I have spent more time with those kids in the past month than you have their entire lives! And this” I pointed between us. “This is how it should be but you're too busy “working” am I right??”

“I am too tired for your delusion right now, I am just telling you how our children feel about you.” He said before heading upstairs.

I was furious, first, he dared to speak about my children as if he knew any better and then he diminished me as his wife. He discarded me like I meant nothing to him, he didn’t even want to argue, he simply did not care. I went to get a glass of wine, I was so glad I bought it after all. I needed something to soothe me at that moment. I was about to sit down when the bell rang, I was estranged because it was about 5 p.m and I wasn’t expecting anyone. I went to get the door and when I opened it I forgot how to act. It was none other than the gorgeous ashy blonde I'd been staring at the entire week.

“Hi! I am sorry to come by at such an odd time, but I wanted to finally introduce myself since we are now neighbors!” She spoke, her voice sounding a bit deeper than what I assumed. Up close she only looked more angelic, the sunset gave her such a beautiful shimmer. I was completely in awe of her.

“Uhm, hello! Nice to meet you Ms?” I hinted towards the fact she had not mentioned her name.

“Miller. Elle Miller. Please, just call me Elle!” she said, smiling graciously.

“Well, nice to meet you uhm…Elle. W- would you want to come in?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intru-”

“You certainly are not, please do,” I said, not letting her finish her sentence, she was finally standing in front of me. I couldn't afford to let her go.

“Okay. I suppose I’ll join you for…?” she stared at the glass in my hand.

“Wine,” I said, smiling lightly trying to hide my nerves.

She walked into my living room and it was a surreal sight, to have her here at last and not be watching her through my living room window. I told her to wait for me in the living room while I went to bring a new glass and the bottle I was drinking from. My hands were sweaty and I couldn’t focus on what I was doing, I was in such a nervous state it took me about three minutes to realize I had placed the wine in the fridge already and it wasn't outside. I finally made my way back to the living room and she was sat on the edge of my windowsill.

“Wow, you can see my living room from here!” She smiled excitedly, I felt accused and forgot how to speak for a moment.

“Oh! Well, I suppose you can, but with the children and all I never have a moment to sit down.” I tried to dismiss her comment.

“How long?” She asked.

“Excuse me?” I felt trapped, she knew I’d been watching.

“How long have you been a mother?” She turned to look at me.

I sighed in relief, it was as if the oxygen had been brought back into the room. “Oh! Uhm well, my eldest is twelve and my youngest eight!”

“That's amazing! I bet they are gorgeous!”

“They truly are.” I started pouring her a glass and went to sit down on the sofa.

She joined me on the sofa and quickly summarized the events leading to her move into the neighborhood. She mentioned she had been offered a transfer from her publishing job back in Boston, she took it because it was a major opportunity considering she was only twenty-two. The publishing company hired her to come here and she barely had to go to the office. After telling me a little more about her she reached for her glass on the coffee table, she took a sip elegantly. It was such a different image to the girl I saw dancing and drinking from the bottle the other day.

“Mmm! Is this Calafuria Rosé??”

“I believe so, yeah.” I downplayed her enthusiastic and almost shocking question.

“It’s my absolute favorite wine!”

“It’s also my favorite!” I responded by taking a sip. I couldn’t help but scrunch my face at its bitterness. I did not like it at all. But I had a feeling after Elle many things would not be the same as before. She had awakened a new part of me, at first, I thought it awakened my longing for freedom but it was far bigger than that.

I wanted to be her. She was freedom.