Juan and Maria

Writer's cramp: Write a story in 24 hours.
Today's Prompt is:an ice cube, a pick-up, and a drive-in movie. Romantic Comedy

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         The junky, old pick-up squeeked around the corner. Its warn-out tires laid a black trail on the highway. Inside Maria and Juan were bunched up as close as they could get to the door. Their eyes were wider than brown cupcakes, and they clung to each other, murmuring Spanish endearments in their fear.

         “Por favor, Señor, por favor,” begged Juan, as his wife moaned.

         But the driver Matthew O’ Kelly didn’t seem to react to the fear and pleading in Juan’s voice. He didn’t slow. If anything he speeded up.

         Matthew breaked only slightly as he shot around another sharp turn in the road. He grabbed at plastic cup on his dashboard cup holder, jerked it up and out, and then jiggled the ice cube that remained inside it, jostling it back and forth. His eyes, still glued to the road ahead, seemed unaware of the white faces of Juan and Maria staring at him. Matthew brought the cup closer, inserted the straw into his mouth and slurped loudly, sucking up all the liquid.

         The road stretched straight ahead. He rammed his foot down hard, and bent forward slightly as the pick-up surged onward.

         Maria let out an urgent, “Ayyyyyyyy” that continued for several seconds.

         Juan again pleaded, “Por favor, por favor...”

         Matthew was doing 80 mph. The old truck vibrated, jiggling through its metal in its distress, yet still Matthew held the accelerator down, roaring forward at top speed.

         “Not far -- no muy lejos,” he told Juan, shifting slightly to change the position of his tensed shoulder.

         Matthew slowed slightly as they went by Perry’s old drive-in movie theatre. It was closed now, but sometimes kids gathered there to ride motorbikes around the remnants of speaker phone posts. Occasionally a cop hung nearby, watching for speeders. Matthew could probably talk his way out of a ticket, but he didn’t want the bother or the time it would take.

         Maria was crying again. Matthew shot a glance at her. “A moment. Hold on. Un momento.”

         “Te quiero,” Juan was saying over and over to his wife.

         Matthew listened, understanding “I love you,” even in Spanish. A streak of jealousy slapped him with irritation. Why did no one ever care for him that much? Why was there no dark-eyed señora in his life to whisper endearments to?

         “Te quiero,” Matthew whispered, trying it out, practicing for such a moment in case it ever came.

         Maria burst out again, “Ayyyyyyy.”

         Matthew couldn’t help tossing a glance at the rearview mirror. Juan was kissing Maria, his lips the echo of his prior words.

         Two minutes later, Matthew’s clunky old truck raced into the parking lot of Madonna’s Hospital. “We made it,” Matthew said, jubilantly. He turned to glance back at the young couple, but they were not looking at him, they were peering down at the baby Maria had just delivered.

         “Not again!” Matthew hollered in dismay. “This is the third time!”

         Juan looked up, and his face beamed with pride. “The baby, she come muy rapido.”

         Matthew and Juan helped Maria into the waiting wheelchair. Then Juan wheeled his wife forward and on into the hospital. Matthew knew it was a good hospital. They would take care of Maria and little Carlotta.

         Matthew smiled and sighed in relief. Then he kicked a stray pebble and thought about the two little boys that were back at the house. His mother was taking care of them for the day. She loved Juanito and Miguel as much as they all did. Juan was one lucky fellow!

         Matthew made his way toward the flower stand at the front of the hospital. After a moment, he chose a bouquet of white asters and pink roses. The young girl who was helping him tied on a pink balloon with the words, “Congratulations! It’s a girl!” She smiled at Matthew with shiny, white teeth. Her hair was long, cascading down her back in rich, thick lusciousness.

         Matthew blushed and smiled back at her. “Guadalupe” her tag said. Matthew tried out the name. The sweetness in the way he said it made Guadalupe blush a delicate rosy pink.

         “My friends just had a baby,” Matthew explained to her. “It is their third child, a little girl named Carlotta.”

         “Ah,” said Guadalupe, dimpling prettily. “I love that name.”

         She tossed her hair back, but one lock still clung to her pink hospital uniform. Matthew found it delectable. “You do?” he gushed, admiring the darkness of her sparkling eyes, the thick, frond-like lashes that teased. “I do, too," he began and then paused, hesitant that she might laugh. "I was just thinking –- but this is silly...”

         “No, what?” Guadalupe placed her hand on Matthew’s arm, urging him to continue. The softness of her eyes begged for him to speak.

         Matthew's heart was racing. He couldn't look at her eyes another moment. If he did he feared he would melt and lie puddle-like before her. He stared instead at her dainty fingernails, shiny, as if they were painted with creamy pink frosting. He smiled and then grew brave enough again to meet her enchantingly mysterious dark-chocolate eyes.

         “Well, I was just thinking..." He knocked over a vase, his hand had nervously brushed. Water gushed down the counter and over his shoes.

         "I'm sorry," he apoligized. Guadalupe waved her hand in dismissal of the accident.

         "No importa -- It is not important," she said, smiling more fully into his eyes. "You were saying?"

         Matthew cleared his throat, shook water from his foot, and continued. "I was just thinking that if I ever had a daughter, I might want to name her Carlotta..." Then he stopped, and sudden words he hadn't planned to speak tumbled out in double-time. "But Guadalupe is a beautiful name, too...”

         “You think so? What is your name, Señor?”


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         Later, the asters and the roses made it up to the new mother’s room. Maria smiled at their beauty, kissed Matthew, and thanked him sweetly for his gallant driving to the hospital. Of course, she spoke in Spanish, and Matthew only understood about half of it, but it was enough. Matthew smiled back at her and said, “De nada.” Then he introduced Guadalupe, and they all oohed and aahed over baby Carlotta.

         Juan was sitting on the bed beside Maria. When the talk between them slowed and a moment of silence came, Juan bent over and whispered to his wife. “Te quiero.”

          Matthew was relieved to notice that he didn’t feel the way he had felt before. The jealousy was gone.

         He looked down at Guadalupe, and he whispered. “Te quiero,” to try it out. It sounded sweet.

          As if she had heard him, Guadalupe smiled up at him. Matthew returned her smile. Guadalupe had agreed to go out with him the next night. Perhaps she might turn out to be his Maria. Te quiero was such a lovely way to live life...

         Te quiero, Matthew thought as he stared at new baby Carlotta, and very gently he squeezed Guadalupe's hand.


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