The Young and the Beautiful

Chapter 47

Alfonso was doing great in the family business. He was doing well with his cousin, Andy Jr. They were successful in their goal to make our business the top brand when it comes to real estate. Charlie was doing good as a lawyer in Madrid and he said that his wife wanted them to move to LA soon because of her job promotion. Too bad that máma wasn't able to see this now. She died in her late nineties peaceful in her sleep, it was nothing new that she reached this age. Her eldest sister passed when she was a hundred and four.

In 1996, I saw my wife Camila getting more forgetful and doesn't know the things that happened in our lives. So I wrote a book based from my years-worth of journals. I wrote her a book that narrated our lives. From my life before I met her, to how we met in 1944 during the war, to our days in Madrid until our tighter times living there as people who escaped the country due to political conflicts. Maybe our children should know our story too, and in that way, even though we're gone, our story and legacy will live on forever.

I realized that I had it all. I had all that every man would want. My beautiful children were all successful in their chosen fields, now they have grandchildren. Charlie had a girl named Beatrice and a boy named Francisco II and named him after me. While Bela had a set of twin girls named Martina and Daniela. Alfonso have a son named Joaquin.

The 1990s was also the time when we started to say goodbye to our friends who we served the war with. Carmen passed due to cancer and not long after that, Jose followed. But what made me saddest recently is the passing of my best friend Enrique. He died due to lung and liver cancer in his 70s.

I looked at our pictures that he always insists on taking since we were young boys, to teenagers riding our polo horses, to our photo wearing our army uniforms, to dashing young men in their 30's in Rome, to when we spent one Christmas in LA, it was our last photo together that he made a joke about being our last one. I was looking at it and realized how our lives can be summarized by less than ten photos.

EJ, his son told me that after what the country did to his family, he will not stay here and settle in the States where he practices as a doctor, he said that he will fly back there in three weeks. His youngest sister Mercedes decided to live in Manila and work in the airlines that his grandfather and father managed.

I don't know how to feel, my best friend died, Camila is starting to be forgetful and shows signs of Alzheimer's, and Andres got a stroke from last year and he was lucky he made it without any injury and complications, but he isn't getting any younger too. I may be selfish but, I wanted to die next because I can't bear if any of them would be gone.

Then that night, While Camila was preparing for bed, she browsed around our picture frames on display.

"Pancho, when did this happen?" Camila said as referred to a picture of us in Madrid.

"This happened in Summer of 1951 or 1952 I think. Do you remember the night where you wore the beautiful pink Dior dress?" I asked her.

"Oh yes. Yes I do remember now, Pancho." She replied. Then she started to brush her salt and pepper hair.

"How about this one? Who was the woman I am with?" She said, she was referring to the time we were in Rome and we stomped grapes in a vineyard.

"This is Rita. Your best friend. Do you remember that day? You girls were there first and then later, Enrique and I joined?" I told her. She smiled and tried to remember that moment.

"Oh I see. It's Rita. I didn't recognize her when she was a few pounds thinner." She replied. Then she let out a laugh.

"Why don't you invite Enrique and Rita next Sunday and let's have lunch together." She said. Then I started to shed a tear. We just came from Enrique's funeral yesterday and now she forgot all about it.

"Maybe next time. Enrique is not around right now. You can invite Rita anytime. Our home is always open for her, and Mercedes, our goddaughter." I replied.

"Tell me more about that book you're reading strange old man, before my husband sees you here. My Pancho was a spy and a soldier. We met one night in 1944 and what happened that night?" She said, then started to look confused.

I read to her a part of the book that pertains to that night. Then before I finished, she smiled and remembered everything.

I put on a record of the jazz music that was playing on the night that we met as Julia and Samuel doing our sabotage mission.

"Oh it's you, Pancho!" She said, and started to cry and hugged me. She's back, for now.

"Where have you been, Pancho?" She said. Then I smiled and combed her hair with my hands.

"I saw your eyes and they're still the same handsome dreamy brown eyes that you had. You were wearing that soldier uniform when we met, and I got hooked by your shy glances at me. Then after ages, you finally had the guts to ask me to dance. But still you were shy and you're blushing like a peach." She said. She rested her head on my chest and shoulder and hugged me tight as if we didn't spend our lives every day.

Camila always forgets things that happened now, and I use our pictures to remind her of us, and to remind her of our family.

"You hear that, my love?" I asked her.

"It will always beat for you no matter what happens. No matter how old we may be. It will always and only beat for you." I added.

No words were needed for us to say what we feel, for our eyes already did the job for us.

She always asked me every afternoon to read to her from the book that I wrote but I don't have a title for it. Camila always asked me what the book is called, and said that she will recommend it to Rita when they meet for their book club. I just laughed and told her that this book is special and I only wrote it for her, no other copies were made.

Then one day, I saw our picture when we were in Madrid, displayed on top of a table by the stairs, and then I called my book "The Young, and the Beautiful", and it was, it surely was.