mi lovely

It is difficult for Maria to hold her head up. The rheumatoid arthritis has left her body a twisted piece of metal after a tornado. Her spine is a knobby tree trunk; her thumbs are bent backwards at the knuckle. Deep pouches have set in under her eyes. Purple bruises mask her pale skin. An oversized house coat hangs limply from her slight frame, her sagging breasts sitting on her lap. Her smile is muted.

In portraits hanging from her walls, Maria is stunning. Lithe legs support curvaceous hips. Her neck is graceful and long. Bright eyes shine with a playful secret. Her skin is ivory, iridescent against wavy black locks laying across her shoulders. A giggle is about to escape her full red lips.

Maria is always alone when I visit her in the mornings. Although she speaks often of her husband Juan, I had never met him before today. He takes long walks in the mornings, strolling the avenue and stopping for an occasional game of dominoes. On the way home, he shops for groceries. He will only use fresh meats and fruits and vegetables to cook for Maria.

I heard him before I saw him. The front door clicked and a sweet Spanish song reached us in the living room. I watched Maria's face soften as Juan walked into the room. He saw only Maria. The resemblance of young Juan hanging on the walls to old Juan here in person was striking. His posture was strong and confident. Gray strands had crept in among his thick black hair, but his face was youthful and tender. His eyes danced as they swept over Maria. He bent down and stroked her face softly, kissing her full on the lips.

"Mi lovely," he whispered.

I wanted to sit on that couch and watch them all day. Maria laughed bashfully and looked over at me. It was then that Juan noticed I was in the room. I stood and shook his hand, and we spoke briefly. He was gracious and did not balk at my halting, awkward Spanish. After a moment he excused himself, but not before kissing Maria on the crown of her head. She seemed to sit taller and more relaxed in his presence.

“You see what he call me?” she blushed.

“Mi lovely?”

“Si. Mi lovely.”

Maria had come to West New York from Cuba when she was 25. Her married sister Olga was already living here. Maria moved in with Olga and her husband Oscar. Maria spoke no English when she first arrived. She learned the language by speaking to American ladies in the factory where she sewed buttons ten hours a day. The work was monotonous and slow. The gossipy chatter helped the hours pass quickly.

Maria loved to walk the avenue with her sister. They stopped in every shop and spoke to every American, hoping to perfect their new language. Maria was beautiful. Men with and without wives spoke to her sweetly on the streets. She was not interested, however. There were too many new things to see in this strange country, and she wanted to take it all in. She was in love with the tall buildings of the New York skyline. At night, she walked by the water and dreamed of all the lives being lived among the lights.

On Saturday nights, Oscar and Olga took Maria to Manhattan, where they would find small clubs and dance the dances of home. It was a relief to be in a place with her own people speaking in an easy tongue. Maria loved to dance, and would be on her feet the entire night. It was at a dance that Juan first saw her.

Juan had also come from Cuba recently. He worked in a factory with many other Cubans, and had difficulty learning English. He shied away from American shops and people, preferring the comfort of his own culture and language. Juan was never lonely. Even his friends had to admit that he was the best looking man around. He escorted a different girl to a dance every night, reluctant to see any girl more than once. He didn't want to give them false hope. Juan was a sworn bachelor. He could not foresee a time when he would long for a wife and a family of his own.

One night, Maria was at a dance with her girlfriend Ana. While the two girls spun in the middle of the dance floor, Juan looked on. He was taken by Maria's ease and laughter. He watched her dance all night, feeling jealous any time a man laid his hand on the small of her back. Juan did not ask her to dance that night. He watched and waited, wanting to see if the feeling in his chest was real.

"See that girl?" he asked a friend. "If she loves me, I am going to marry her."

The next week, Maria and Ana were again dancing in the middle of the floor, and Juan watched Maria from a corner. She was even more beautiful than he had remembered. Juan approached Ana as she sat out a dance. He asked Ana about her beautiful friend. Ana was taken with Juan's good looks. She had seen him at the dances before, always wanting to fall into step beside him. It angered her that Juan was only approaching her to ask about Maria. This happened often when the two friends went out. Ana wanted a boyfriend of her own. Besides, she reasoned, Maria wasn't interested in a boyfriend.

"Maria?" she shrugged. "Oh. She's married. Her husband is still in Cuba."

Juan thanked Ana for the information, oblivious to Ana's rapidly blinking eyes. He went back to his friends, dejected. When Ana rejoined her friend, Maria looked questioningly at Ana.

"Who is that man you were talking to?"

"No one." Ana responded casually.

"He's very good-looking. What is his name?"

"Juan. He's married. His wife and children are still in Cuba."

Maria felt an unfamiliar flutter in her heart as she looked at Juan. Thinking of his wife and children at home, she forced his image out of her head.

During the quiet moments at the factory, Juan's face floated back to Maria. She thought of his broad shoulders and his graceful steps on the dance floor. He smiled like a little boy causing innocent trouble. She thought she saw a promise in his eye, but it angered her to think of him out at a dance with a wife and babies at home. That was reason enough to wipe him out of her mind. But she couldn't.

Ana had found herself a boyfriend and wasn't around to go dancing. After a week of Maria pouting, Olga decided that she and Oscar would take her little sister out for some cheering up. They headed to a dance in Manhattan. Maria wasn't in the mood for fun, and sat on the sidelines. While watching couples twirling on the dance floor, she saw Ana smiling up into the face of her dance partner. Maria jumped to her feet to wave at her old friend, but stopped cold when the man spun Ana around. It was Juan.

Maria had to run out into the cool night air to catch her breath. How could Ana be dating a married man? Didn't she think of his wife and children at home? She had been so stupid to have wasted time picturing Juan's face these past weeks. He was nothing but a cheat and a liar. She was angry for letting herself feel something, and disappointed in both Ana and Juan. She began to cry, her face hot and burning. She cried even harder because she didn't understand why she was crying. She left the dance and went home alone.

Later that night, Olga found her sister crying in her room. At first Olga was angry that Maria had left the dance alone. When she saw how upset her sister was, she became worried.

"Why are you crying?" Olga asked, stroking Maria's hair.

"I don't know. He is married and Ana was dancing with him and I don't know why I ever felt anything for him."

"Who’s married?"

Maria continued to sob out the story. Olga's face was at first stern and then softened into a knowing smile. She patted Maria's arm soothingly.

"Listen. Your friend is not your friend at all. I know that man Juan. He is not married. Far from it. I have seen him looking at you many times. Oscar knows him from the factory. Let me get you his number. You call him. He doesn't love Ana. Call him and see."

Maria's chest filled with hope. She forgot how her friend had lied to her and concentrated on Juan's eyes. She wanted to know what they had to tell her. She sat by the phone all night, staring at Juan's number. She picked up the phone and put it back down. She burrowed under the covers then kicked the covers off. She switched the light off and right back on. She wanted to hear his voice, and her voice together on the line. She was so scared the voice would be hollow and unfamiliar. Then she would know the flutter in her chest was a lie.

Finally, Maria dialed the number at three o'clock in the morning. She had no concept of time. It felt like she had been waiting to make this call forever, but she only just now realized it. His sleepy voice sounded into the phone.

"Hola?"

"Hola, Juan?"

There was a long silence. Maria wondered if he could hear her heart pounding over the phone line.

"Mi lovely?" he asked.

"This is Maria."

She waited, but the line went dead. She hung up the phone in confusion. Had he mistaken her for someone else? Was there something wrong with the phone line? Should she call him again?

Maria sat staring at the phone, uncertain of what to do. A sharp buzz sounded throughout the apartment, shaking Maria out of her seat. She realized it was the doorbell and went to the window. Oscar and Olga called hazily from the bedroom, but Maria told them to go back to sleep. Maria opened the window and looked down at the front door. Juan was looking up at her, standing in his pajamas and work boots. He was smiling and had his arms spread open. Maria laughed and shut the window. She ran down the steps and onto the sidewalk in her nightgown.

Maria and Juan stared at each other. Both were now shy in front of one another. Maria looked down at her bare feet, embarrassed. Juan opened and closed his mouth several times, looking for the words he wanted to say.

"Mi lovely," he said, as he had over the phone.

"Why do you call me that?" Maria asked in Spanish.

Juan explained that he had heard the word "lovely" many times in English, and he always thought it was a beautiful word, though he was unsure of its meaning. When he first saw her at the dance, he knew that the word described her. For weeks, he had been thinking of her, even though Ana had told him she was married. At that, Maria laughed and told him that Ana had said the same about him.

The two sat on Maria's stoop until the sun came up. Maria felt warm and comfortable sitting next to Juan. Juan was picturing their babies with her black hair and his green eyes. He had found the woman that made him want to be a husband. He hummed a tune in her ear and spun her around on the sidewalk.

Juan and Maria have been married for 48 years. They have three daughters and seven grandchildren. Maria can no longer dance, but Juan still sings sweet Spanish songs to her every day.

"That was his first English word. Lovely. Not "hello" or "please". Every time he calls me "mi lovely" I feel happy in my heart." Maria whispered to me before I left.

I said good-bye to Juan as he was putting lunch on the table. The door shut behind me, and his voice rose up in a song. I heard Maria giggling, and I pictured them dancing on the sidewalk in their pajamas.