the child by the door

There was no chance that Sal will be let out to visit her brother, Oleon. She should be mistaken but was it wrong to hope that they would at least show her mercy and see her brother? Vague, blurry memories ran through her head, of a small boy crying in fear of a frog. His hands were sweaty after playing in the grass fields outside and his voice was whiny and slow.

But at each passing day, the maid did not even spoke about his presence even once. Every conversation had outside the Casa, Sal scoped for any mention of the word Napoleon, or the Cuorre’s only child but it was soon becoming clear that he will leave as soon as he arrived.

Yet, seeing Ren in front of her offering a chance at a reunion was almost too good to be true. He had sneaked inside her room as per usual. He held a gray skirt in his hand and a dull, plain kamiseta with a hairpin piled on top.

“These are the clothes the maid wears.” Sal observed. She touched them, then held her hands back, clasping them behind her back. It was almost like touching someone else.

“Don’t you want to see Oleon?” he asked.

Oleon’s arrival was like the dead coming back to life. “The maid never told me he’s here.”

“The maid is the Signor’s servant after all.”

Is that it now? Disobeying the maid was disobeying her master. “Perhaps, she has to-” She stopped herself. Why else would the Signor not allow her to see her own brother? Should she care about the reason?

Ren clasped a hand over her cheek. “No one pays attention to maids. Besides, I will be with you.” He slid a hand under her veil, completely removing it from her head.

Sometimes, Sal can’t help but feel a certain heaviness and a selfish joy in seeing that this handsome man looks at her the way he does, like her said cursed appearance does not exist. She let him remove her veil, and the panuelo pinned tight near her neck and uncuff the ends of her sleeve. Sal changed out of her clothes.

Ren leaned close and wrapped his hands around her to fix her unruly hair bun. The enclosed space.The close contact. It is getting to her. “I’m so shameful.”Sal put her hands over her face. “Her own sister could not see him even.”

Ren buried Sal’s face into his chest. “You are courageous, putting up with all of this.” “I want to see my brother.” Sal said, albeit in a mousy whisper. She looked at his face, his hand holding, squeezing her hands tight. She repeated, with more conviction, “I want to see my brother!”

And see her brother she did. Sal sneaked onto the room where he was being held with Ren by her side guiding her on which room she should go. It was one of the few times Sal had ever stepped outside of her room and the house always feels stranger each time. But this time, it did not matter. If she was with Ren, it did not matter.

Sal came inside holding a tray of food, her idea really. Little Oleon liked sweets. Well, she brought sweets they both like. The maid has been stingy with her after all.

She went inside and the door opened to reveal a young man asleep in a bed. If this was Oleon, it seemed he has grown a lot taller than her, judging by the way his legs curled from under him because of the length of the furniture. He slept like it was the only time he was able to do so. His mouth hanging a bit and letting loose a slight wheeze as he slept.

Sal hovered over him. The little innocent boy he was is this man. Did he despise her after all those years? Maybe it was better to see him as he sleeps, not that when he can see her, watch her, confront her. But she was a wild child after all. She poked his cheek. Was this the same boy who laughed and played with her in the mud?

Oleon turned. And as he did, Sal’s fingers poked his cheek. She withdrew her hand fast and covered her face but waited to see the young man come to wake. His expression was bleary at first, weak, until his gaze hardened.

Sal darted away, but before she could, Oleon called out. “Please!”

She tiptoed back, her head turned to the side as she did so.

“Ate?” he asked. He paused. “Please don’t leave me here.”

The young man labored to sit up. He was a pale bony body draped with loose, bed clothes. He was still the crying little boy Sal remembered. It was a bit strange really, calling this stranger her brother, but slowly she could see him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Sal sat on the floor beside her brother’s bed.

The young boy eyed her curiously before averting her eyes, gathering some words to say. “ Ate, there’s a long chair.”

Sal found it strange before remembering that Oleon had lived and breathed amongst all the proper people on that place called the Universidad. The two sat in a bit of awkward silences. Sal knew not what to say. This man did not seem to despise her as she thought, but-

“Do you find me weird?” Sal asked, out of the blue.

The boy was confused before eventually shaking his head.

Sal looked around, for something they could talk about. “How are you?” she asked.

“I’m fine. How about you?”

“I’m fine too.”

Sal thought it was a good idea for that was how proper polite people do it. But maybe she could use another. “How about school?” People usually asked hows school or something of the sort.

The young boy paused. “It was fine. A few Arithmetics here and there, classes on literature. “

“Was it a nice place? Do they have a lot of mango trees there too? Is it bigger than the Casa? Is it really a noisy place like-”

The boy only stared back at him with wide eyes. “Okay, ate. Which should I answer first? And-”

“Well, I am just spewing out my questions, but I am curious on all of them. Hey, is it nice going there?”

Oleon handed her the untouched mangoes on the table. “You can have those. I’m not hungry.” he offered.

Sal wolfed the Marzipans by his bedside instead. She caught Oleon looking at her so she only took few bites and straightened her gait. “Sorry, I was embarassing.”

“Do you always eat like that?” Oleon asked as he eyed the crumbs on the floor.

“Maybe.”Sal replied. “It must be uncomfortable for you. You were surrounded by all those proper gentlemen and proper ladies and here you have your sister looking like a slob.”

“It was unladylike.” Oleon turned his eyes. “But you are my Ate, and I can’t do anything about it.”

She looked up at him. He was smiling, contrary to what she expected from him. Crumbs fell onto the floor as she almost dropped the pastry between her hands. A heavy feeling welled up in her but she tamped it down. The Signor hates crying. But right now, it was almost unreal, surreal to hear her being called Ate. “I thought you tried to forget me.”