Chapter One
“What good will your tears be when I’m going to be in the ground?”
Those were Ofelia’s comforting words to her one and only daughter, Sofia, as she lay on her death bed. Truthfully, the latter didn’t expect much from her, knowing she was always a thorny person. It was too much to hope for an ‘I love you’ or ‘You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me’. Sure, Ofelia showed her love in a different kind of way, but it still left Sofia being starved for affection. All the while rejecting attention because she doesn’t know how to respond.
She lies flat on the sand, letting the first morning rays bathe her pale face before it gets too hot. The beach is calmer at this hour, with the seagulls being her only companions. Soon enough, tourists will come crawling to the shore for the best seat. There are no longer any secret spots in Nossina unless it’s on the outskirts of town.
The waves kneading the shoreline help calm the overbearing thoughts that plague her mind. Her best friend, Alina, always reprimands her, saying that being closed-off isn’t good for the soul. Sofia counters that it’s easier for everyone this way. She doesn’t waste her breath on meaningless thoughts or feelings and people don’t get too close to her. The only reason why she and Alina are even best friends is because they were next door neighbors growing up.
It's been a year since the death of her mother. Untreated cancer, the doctor said. It seems impossible given certain…circumstances. But that was the final diagnosis. Because of that, almost everyone around Sofia wants her to test if there’s any possibility she can inherit the disease. It’ll only be futile and foolish knowing that there’s no sickness in the world that can touch her.
That’s one of the gifts Ofelia left her.
“Fifi.”
The cluster of thoughts get interrupted when sand gets slightly kicked onto her face. She shakes her head, squinting and sputtering while the sun gets eclipsed overhead. Alina’s mischievous face appears above Sofia’s. Her hazel eyes gleam with playfulness so early in the morning.
“What are you doing?”
“I came to get you. What else?” Alina chirps. She pulls Sofia up, dusting off the excess sand from her torso. “You were about to fall asleep again.”
The former titters. “You know I like my naps.”
“Yeah, but you’ll get sunburnt if you sleep on the beach.” Alina hooks her arm with hers. “How long have you been here?”
“I’m not sure. An hour perhaps?”
“Did you sleep last night?”
“I did.”
“Are you telling the truth?”
“I am.”
She’s not. She kept tossing and turning so much that she overheated in the linen blankets. She’s been dreading this day to come because she knows that she has to finally visit Ofelia’s grave. After an entire year, there’s no more avoiding it.
Alina guides her through the pier as she gushes about her new boyfriend. Sofia zones out at the sound of ‘Damiano’, unable to stand that man one bit. Her best friend is far too good for him.
On their way to their workplace, Café Palona, local businesses and restaurants start opening up for the day as they await the influx of tourists to come. The summer season, like in all tourist spots, is the busiest for Nossina. It’s also the most expensive since business prices rack up the prices.
Some locals meander the streets as they themselves head to their own jobs and chores. Without the tourists, life in Nossina is fairly peaceful and idyllic. The most peaceful, perhaps even the most beautiful, town of the entire island of Achelina. It’s the only reason why she doesn’t complain about the tourists. They are why the violence from the rest of the country hasn’t reached them.
Mafia clans, money laundering, arm dealing, anything ridiculous and illegal has infected Achelina. The blame is most certainly put on the mainland, Augustia. All the bad influence has trickled down the peaceful waters to taint them with blood and ash.
“Fifi, are you listening?”
Sofia quickly turns her attention back to Alina. “Yes, yes. Go on.”
“You are most certainly not. What was the last thing I said?”
“You were talking about Damiano.”
“What about Damiano?”
“...for his love of baseball?”
“Sofia!”
“I’m sorry, Ali. I’m just a little distracted today.”
Her friend sighs while shaking her head. “Should you even go into work today? Maybe it’s better if you go to the cemetery instead.”
“I don’t want to stay there all day if I planned to go in the evening. Besides, I already told Vittore my schedule for this week. I’ll feel bad if I change it last minute.”
“For heaven’s sake, Sofia, it’s your mother’s death anniversary. He’ll understand. You’re his favorite either way.”
“You can say it without the scorn,” she teases. Alina is always getting in trouble with their boss. Some of which can be corrected but the latter is also stubborn and is set on doing things her own way.
The café already has a line waiting outside even before it’s opened. Some are regulars and some are new faces. The tourists are easier to spot with their ensemble of bags or backpacks they’ll use for their day full of adventures. These have a more relaxed attire depending on their itineraries. Other times, their loudness is what gives them away immediately. Nossina, being a town of a little over six thousand, prefers more quiet.
Unless it’s time to celebrate a festive day.
Sofia nods in greeting to the customers, prepping herself for another hectic day. The distraction will do her good. Tourists always have the best stories and the best quirks. She'd made a list of top ten customers that made her laugh or entertained her the most. Sometimes she likes to guess what country they’re from based on their interactions.
The rude ones always come from further west. Just across the ocean. She forgot the name of the country, but they always tend to be demanding and have a complete disregard of her culture. Alina always emerges from behind the bar to deal with these customers. Sofia and their regulars look on as if it were a boxing match.
“Hello, welcome to Café Palona. What would you like today?” She cracks her face into a smile, pushing away any reminders that her mother died on this day. She still has to make a living. Even her mom didn’t want any tears to be wasted on such a “meaningless” event.
The energetic buzz of a packed establishment finally quiets down just as the moon makes its anticipated appearance. The sea winds sneak their way into the café, tickling people’s ears and caressing their noses. The conversations are lighter and more intimate with a more serene atmosphere. The evening shift is mostly reserved for the locals. Sofia catches up with a few neighbors and old acquaintances while she starts prepping to clean the floors.
With simpler and slower orders, the staff can comfortably have a headstart in the cleanup to be able to close at the exact time their shift ends. Sofia sweeps the entryway when a couple of regulars walk through the door. She recognizes the heavily pregnant woman, Clara, and her husband, Elià.
“Miss Clara,” Sofia happily greets her, “I haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?”
She quickly sets up the nearest table for them. Clara waddles to her seat, looking as if she’s struggling to catch her breath. “I can’t wait until he’s born. I miss seeing my feet and being able to sleep on my stomach,” she jokes as she rubs the lower part of her abdomen.
Sofia giggles, setting down their utensils. “How many weeks are you now?”
“Saturday would be 32 weeks. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling he’s going to be overdue.”
Elià takes her hand in support. “The doctor said it’s normal for firstborns to be late. Don’t worry, amore. He’s almost here.”
“What if he’s not? I don’t know how much longer I can endure this. I don’t want to end up using a wheelchair or even be bed-bound until he’s born.”
By a quick glance Sofia can tell the pregnancy has been hard on her. Clara and Elià would come in every Sunday for brunch without fail. As the pregnancy progressed, they came less and less. She’s a fair-skinned woman, but even under soft lighting Sofia can tell she’s paler than she should be. Her soft and kind expression has a hardness to it that can only be made from exhaustion and sleepless nights.
Clara asks for the special, bashful about her request since it’s near closing time. Sofia assures her with a tender smile and a soft pat on the shoulder––after all, she’s the one that created it with much love.
She goes behind the counter to reach for the cups used specifically for the order––ceramic mugs designed as an open flower. Before pouring in freshly brewed coffee, she lines the rim with honey, then adds milk.
By the entrance of the kitchen, there’s a small room where non perishables are stored. There, she adds a few rose petals and a hint of cinnamon. Before it’s complete, she takes a few quiet moments. She has to be still to focus all the thoughts and emotions in her chest. The world quiets down for a second before a single tear rolls down her cheek…and falls into the coffee. As her tear fuses with the drink, small streaks of blue light shine from it.
She’ll never tire from witnessing the first drink a customer takes from it. They always inhale the bittersweet aroma, letting the smell reach their fingertips. After their sip they hum softly, surprised at what they're tasting. They can’t describe exactly what it is or why they feel a certain way. The first description is like waking from a wonderful dream. The small window in the morning that has people believing that everything is wonderful in the world.
Sofia doesn’t know where she got this gift. She’s had it since she was a child, discovering it when she cried over the small body of an injured squirrel. A warning from her mother made Sofia hide the gift, but also learn to wield it, all these years.
Clara jumps as soon as she takes the first sip. The baby kicked her.
“He can taste it too,” Elià muses as he rubs his wife’s belly.
“I bet he does. He’s been quiet the entire day,” she says through laughter, the exhaustion completely leaving her body. Her rosy cheeks shine and her brown eyes are watery for a reason other than loss of sleep.
Sofia gives them their space to enjoy their anticipation of a third family member. From afar, she admires their interactions as they can’t stop fawning over one another. Elià is very attentive to her, asking every so often if she needs anything else and how she feels. His hand never leaves her swollen belly and her hand always finds an excuse to cup his face.
Of all the customers she’s waited on, they are the fifth couple she finds to be the most genuine. The love and devotion in their eyes never lie and never hide. In the short time she silently watched from afar, she can tell these are true soulmates. These are the couples that were left out in her mother’s neverending warnings about men.
Yet, she’s never mentioned my father in any of them.
Like many other things that went unmentioned during the entirety of her life. She knows her mother had secrets and never dared to pry. It was easier to keep each other at a certain distance. On some level, she can somewhat understand Ofelia did it to protect herself and her daughter from unnecessary pain. But the consequence of that is another sort of dull pain.
She bends forward to stretch her lower back by using the counter. Letting out a long winded sigh eased the ache in her lower back and shoulders. The weight of the entire day depleted her energy. So much so that she’s even considering visiting the cemetery another day. Maybe another week.
Maybe even next year.
“Thank you so much, Miss Sofia. Have a wonderful evening,” Clara says from the door.
Sofia waves at them, wishing them good rest and blessings for their baby. Clara’s expression is bright and seemingly well-rested. She’s not hunched over her belly with her head hanging like a loose branch. Even her hair has luster once again.
I n a whisper, Sofia prays, “Merciful Aelia, please protect Clara and her baby.”
And once the lovely couple leaves, it’s finally time to close.
