Page 63 of Don't Tell Me Who To Love

He leaned forward, his breath as stale as hers after the night, and rubbed his clenched fist into the palm of his hand. “Where then? Where do you want to live?”

She shook her head and stared into the basket. The carrots were vibrant while his talk of the future was suffocating. She stared towards the house. Maybe her parents would understand if only she could talk to them. Shouldn’t she at least give them a chance to see her in love, to know that love as she knew it? Maybe they would respect her decision not to marry, if only she could summon the courage to talk to them.

She imagined standing in front of her parents in the living room, her mama sat in the chair, her papa stood at her mama’s side. Both would stare at her with a look of growing concern as she struggled to find the words she’d rehearsed a thousand times. “Mama, Papa, there’s something I need to tell you.” The quiver in her voice would betray her fears, and she would become their prey. The slaughter would be quick, but she would take the pain with her and live with it if it freed her, knowing she had tried.

“What is it, Aisha? You can talk to us,” Mama would say.

No, she couldn’t. Not about her love. But she had to because she needed her mama’s blessing.

“I—” She would falter, because how could she not?

Hearing what she had to say, her papa would grow in stature and press his hand firmly on her mama’s shoulder. Her mama would press herself into the back of chair, retreating as far from her disgusting daughter as possible. She would cross her arms and avoid eye contact, because how could she look at her daughter after this? She had brought the worst disgrace of all to their family, and that was unforgivable. If she’d told them she was pregnant, they would have looked on her more favourably, brought forward the wedding date, and then danced in celebration. This news would cause them to narrow their eyes, and as her words registered fully, their faces would infuse with rage. They would not accept her. And that made the truth what it was. She wasn’t ready to face their rejection, to walk away having broken their hearts and turned their world upside down.

They would blame Gabi no matter what Aisha said, and Gabi would have to leave Granada to stay safe. Something as grave as this would never be considered just a family matter. It was an affront to the community, their history, and their ancestors before them, and aside from what it would mean for Aisha once the dust had settled, as it had for Old María, she couldn’t risk harm coming to Gabi.

Her agitated mind was trying to protect her broken heart, getting her to think twice about the consequences of running away, and yet, she had to follow her heart. She loved Gabi. She wanted to believe in their dreams of seeing the world and growing old together. She had to speak to Gabi.

“You see, you can’t even answer a simple question.”

Nicolás jolted her from her thoughts. “I don’t know.” She turned towards him. “Sometimes I just want to be far away from here.”

He shook his head and wiped her cheek.

She froze. The silent tears continued, and now that she was aware of them, she felt foolish and defenceless accepting his kindness. Her distress seemed to soften his demeanour towards her. He put his arm around her shoulder and coaxed her to lean against him. Her stomach churned. His muscles weren’t soft like Gabi’s, and he held her too strongly, coveting her rather than comforting her, but he was familiar and warm, and though she was clear she didn’t want to marry him, she was confused about everything else.

“I wanted to leave here when Esme died,” Nicolás said.

She pulled away. She’d often wondered if her feelings for Esme would always be reflected in his eyes. But as she watched him now, they weren’t, and his grief was his own.

“I know, as best friends, you were probably closer to her than me in some ways. She missed you after we married, when you became absorbed by your dreams of being somewhere else.” He smiled ruefully. “I’m not criticising you for having an imagination, Aisha. It’s what makes you the best dancer in Granada. Esme was the centre of my universe then, and when she wasn’t at my side, the biggest part of me became lost. My heart died when she and our baby did.”

He became that man again, consumed by his loss, his jaw tight, and his eyes empty with the despair that came from feeling helpless. It was the feeling Aisha had lived with since realising she was different.

“My heart is filled with you now. I know you will never love me as I love you. Something blocks your heart. You’ve always been that way.” He looked to the sky, his Adam’s apple rising and falling. “Don’t make me out to be a fool, Aisha. I care for you, and one day I hope you will let me make you happy.”

This conversation felt so wrong, and the words tightened like a noose around her neck. “You think it’s that simple?”

“Why not?”

“Love, I mean. Do you think that one person can learn to let another make them happy, and that will be enough? Don’t you think that kind of happiness is a product of two hearts connecting unconsciously and unforced. Not through an arrangement sold to us by our laws. Laws that cast out people who think differently.”

He scratched his head.

“Do you not think that love is something so special, that it cannot be defined, that it passes through people, between them, and around them? It doesn’t bend to our will, Nicolás, it directs it. Love is all that matters. Without it, we are empty vessels cast out into an ocean too vast for us to navigate.”

“You are a dreamer with your head in the clouds. You think life is what you read and sing, a canto that fills your head with illusions and makes you crazy inside. I’ve watched you change. I’ve watched you lose yourself to these wild dreams.”

“I was lost without them. I’m finding myself because of them. And this love I speak of is no illusion. It’s as real as the sun, and the sky, and the air that we breathe. Maybe you had that with Esme. I know I can never have it with you.”

He scratched his head harder and took a deeper breath. His face contorted. “I am happy with you.”

“You talk as though I’m something to be owned. How is that love?”

He shook his head. “I don’t understand you. I will provide everything you need. A house, food on the table, children. I will keep you safe, and you will not want for anything. We will be comfortable.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want comfortable. I want love, Nicolás. I want my heart to sing with joy. I want to feel alive with everything we think and do. I want to share the same interests. I want to talk and laugh.”

“We have the same interests.”

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