And Now, A Short Short

Thrift Store

He points at the wooden door with a painted image of La Virgen de Guadalupe. It's a surviving artifact from a mission in Texas or another such place. It used to sit by a window but now stands in the middle of the corner space.

She walks towards them. When she sees the painted Virgin she says, “I want it for the house I yet don’t have.”

And he says, “We’ll get it one day,” and takes her hand.

She's surprised. She's not sure he’s aware of the effect his words have on her. Did he just imply they’ll end up together, live in a house where they can display their like for the door in a garden of their own someday? Does he know his words have given her hope for a future where the odds are one hundred percent against them? Does he realize his truest, deepest feelings were muttered? Is he regretting saying them? Or is he happy the words finally escaped his mouth? Is he glad, for once, he didn’t hold back what he was feeling? Because he isn't letting go of her hand. It's grasped in his. He would’ve let go had he been trying to change the subject as he often does. But he hasn't. She doesn't have the courage, either, to look at him. She doesn't want to make him uncomfortable, doesn't want him to take it back. Because he's holding her hand, standing behind her, emitting warmth from his body to hers. They stare at the dated artwork as she wonders if she's heard correctly and analyzes each word to infer that they will be buying the Virgen door for their house one day.

To break the awkwardness that apparently only she's experiencing, she says, “I can afford it right now. Maybe you can house it at your place until I get mine.” But he says nothing.

She hopes the piece waits for her. She hopes the piece waits for them. She hopes the Virgin on that former church door recognizes how much they care for each other, helps them beat the odds, and finds her way into a beautiful rose garden made just for her so they can stand before it with the same admiration they are today, grateful for everything in their lives.