The Secret Life of Daydreams (36 page)

Josh had photographed the Madrid temple in the early hours of the day, when the sky split into equal parts of night and light, and the flood lights illuminated the building. On the first day when she had received it, Sofia had sat on the sofa curled up to the side and stared at the picture for some time. The beauty and simplicity of the image stirred a feeling of gratitude and peace, a quiet inspiration of faith and love that she wanted to keep in her heart. How powerful the evocation of an image and its meaning.

With her phone, Sofia took a picture of the canvas hanging on her wall and the album on her bedside table, and attached them to an email to Josh with a simple message:
“Obrigada. Não tenho palavras.”
What else could she say that would do it justice? Indeed words were not enough when they failed the expression of her heart.

After dinner, Sofia retrieved the mail from her purse. Among the bills, a letter from the university stood out, the red logo taunting her. The envelope was large and the return address was from the English Literature department. She put it to the side at first but then grabbed it and ran a finger under the flap and removed the papers from inside. A schedule. A map of the campus. A letter of welcome with a student ID number and online login. Her teacher’s email.

There must be a mistake. Why was she receiving welcome papers when she hadn’t paid the fees for the semester? It didn’t make any sense.

The next morning, Sofia left the apartment early and walked to the office of academic services at the university. The long lines had her waiting forty minutes before her turn.

She handed the letter to the secretary. “Bom dia. I received this letter, but there’s been a mistake.”

“Student number?” The secretary typed on her keyboard.

Sofia recited her ID number.

“Everything looks in order. You’re set to start classes at the end of September.”

“But I can’t start. I didn’t pay the tuition fees.”

“Like I said, everything looks in order. If you need help with tuition, you need to address that at the finance office.”

Sofia walked to the finance office and stood in line for twenty minutes. When her turn came, she showed the letter again and explained the situation.

“Student number?”

Sofia stated her number and the finance secretary spent a few minutes going over her records. “And you say you didn’t pay the tuition so you can’t start the program?”

“Yes, that is correct,” Sofia replied.

The secretary turned the screen around and showed it to Sofia. “Your tuition has been paid in full for the first year, both semesters included.” She pointed at the records. “If you didn’t pay it, then you have a very generous godmother. Congratulations.”

Sofia stilled. For a moment, she stared at the screen and then looked back to the secretary. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. There’s no mistake about it.” The secretary clicked a key, and when the printer was done, she handed Sofia the printout. “Here you go.”

Slowly, Sofia reached for it and tried to stuff it back in the envelope, along with the letter. Her hands trembled and her heart beat wildly, and she dropped them onto the counter.

The secretary reached for them and swiftly replaced the letter inside the envelope, then handed it back to Sofia with a smile. “It’s going to be okay.”

Sofia blinked and a tear rolled from her left eye and she wiped at it with her fingers. “Obrigada.” In her mind, she repeated the words
it’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay.

Somehow she managed to get to the café and she worked her shift without any incidents. Her chest squeezed with a riot of emotions she wasn’t prepared to face, and she pushed them to the bottom, unwilling to deal with them just yet.

At the end of her work day, she walked to the nearby garden and called Margarida.

“Sofia, how are you?” Margarida asked in a cheerful voice.

“I need to come over and talk to you. Is that okay?”

Margarida’s voice turned serious. “Of course. Is everything okay?”

Sofia took a breath. “Yes, everything’s fine. I just need to show you something.”

Twenty minutes later, Sofia knocked softly on Margarida’s door. Margarida pressed a finger to her lips and they walked to the living room.

“I just put Amélia to bed. Hopefully she stays.”

Sofia handed Margarida the letter. “I’ve been shaking all day.”

Margarida’s forehead wrinkled. She read the letter in silence. “I can’t say I’m surprised, Sofia.”

Sofia clasped her hands on her lap. “So you don’t think I’m crazy to think Josh is behind this?”

Margarida placed the letter down next to Sofia. “Who else would it be, right?”

Sofia pressed her hand to her mouth and inhaled in little bursts. “How did he find out? Why did he do it?”

A key turned in the front door lock and Paulo entered the apartment. Sofia and Margarida turned to him.

Paulo took a few steps and stopped at the entrance to the living room. “What’s going on?”

“Sofia received a letter from the university and she found out someone paid for her tuition.”

Paulo sat next to Margarida and turned to Sofia. “I was wondering when you’d find out.”

“You helped him, didn’t you?” Sofia said. “He hardly had any time before he left.”

“He asked me how to do it and then I was supposed to take over if he didn’t have the time. But he went to the campus on the day he left and got it all done without any problems.”

Sofia opened her purse and removed a card from her wallet. “The day after he left I got this in the mail. A six-month prepaid parking pass to the above-ground parking lot closest to the café. Because he thought the other parking wasn’t safe enough.” She closed her eyes. “But to pay the entire tuition for a whole year…”

“A bouquet of flowers each time you go to class,” Margarida said.

Sofia’s lips quirked as she wiped at the corner of her eye. “A very expensive bouquet.”

Paulo’s forehead creased. “What flowers?”

“Never mind.” Margarida winked at Sofia.

Josh’s flowers. How was she ever going to repay him?

Sofia squared her shoulders. “Enough blabbering about.” She stood. “I have a thank-you email to write.”

Once outside on the street, Sofia inhaled a calming breath. As evening turned to night, the air cooled down from the earlier hot day temperature. She’d left the rolling blinds down and the sliding doors cracked and hopefully the apartment would be comfortable when she arrived.

Sofia sat behind the wheel and her cell phone rang. It was from the care center. Why were they calling so late in the day? Her heart sank.

“Está lá?”

“Sofia, this is Doutor Paiva, your mother’s doctor.”

“Sim, senhor doutor. Is everything all right?”

“I’m very sorry to have to inform you that your mother has passed away. We suspect a brain aneurysm.”

* * *

The soft rays of first morning light filtered in shyly through the open blinds. Sofia had failed to draw them up again after spending the day before making funeral preparations and arranging for time off from work at the café.

She lay in bed, watching the morning invade her bedroom. The day ahead loomed cold and bleak despite the weather forecast. What if she could skip to tomorrow? She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly, fighting back the tears. If only she could take a mental vacation from her responsibilities. As far away as possible.

Fortunately, some of the decisions had been made long before. Mother had been a devout Catholic in life, and it would be no different in death. Sofia had met with the priest yesterday and reviewed her final instructions. The viewing and mass were scheduled to take place in the morning, and the funeral in the late afternoon, at the cemetery of the small parish in Guimarães where Mother had been raised.

The obituary was placed in the newspaper, even though Sofia didn’t expect anyone else to come. The only family she had left were some distant aunts and their families and, despite her efforts, their likelihood to attend was small. Margarida and Paulo would be driving with her and maybe some of Mother’s old friends from the village would come.

Sofia was the only close family present. Her grandparents, her tia Joana, her father—they were all gone. The burying was a final chapter in her family life, one that made her the last living member. What if something happened to Sofia and she herself died? No ancestors and no descendants. The end of the line.

She shook herself and got up from bed. Her mind wandered back to the last time she’d visited with Mother, grateful for the hour she’d spent with her the day before her death. Had Mother even been aware of Sofia’s presence? In a way, Sofia had already mourned her loss, as the disease had taken her mind and spirit little by little in the previous months and years. The funeral was the final act, a way to say goodbye.

Behind the bedroom door, a simply tailored black dress hung from a wooden hanger. Short sleeves and a straight skirt that hit just below the knee. Instead of a slit, it had a pleated insert in the back to allow for wider movement when walking. Her black patent heels sat on the plank floor. It was the same outfit Sofia had worn to Father’s funeral and it was only fitting to wear it again, a symbolic connection to both parents.

The cell phone pinged from its place on the bedside table. It was only six-thirty, too early for social calls. No more bad news, please. Not today.

Sofia glanced at the caller ID and her heart skipped a beat. Josh.

Sofia, I’m so sorry for the loss of your mother. You are in my thoughts and prayers. I’m sorry I can’t be there.

She stared at the screen for some time. They’d exchanged a few emails since his departure, short and not too personal. Every other day, Sofia checked his Facebook page for updates of his travels and for new pictures. But Josh had been unusually quiet and not posting much. And now a text.

For several minutes, she didn’t reply to Josh. What would she say? The longing in her heart, the words that stuck in her throat—she couldn’t voice those. Too late for them.

Instead, she typed,
Josh, thank you for thinking of me, and for your kind words.

She
checked the message a few times and hit ‘send.’ Staring at the phone all day would not bring a return message any sooner.

Margarida and Paulo drove Sofia to Guimarães. The bright sunlight hit the side of the car and Sofia adjusted her large black sunglasses. The mood was somber and her black outfit sucked all remnants of confidence.

The viewing took place in the village where Mother’s parents and their ancestors had lived for generations, and more people from the parish came to attend than Sofia had anticipated. But funerals were as much a social event as a religious one and good manners dictated at least a token appearance. After all, tradition held the fabric of Portuguese connections, strong in places and fraying in others.

Afterward, they moved the casket to the church. In the front, a pew held a sign that read “Família” and Sofia took a seat with Paulo and Margarida. What would it be like if Josh sat beside her, holding her hand? She sighed and shook her head.

“Are you okay?” Margarida said, leaning close and squeezing her hand.

Sofia nodded and glanced ahead. The casket had been placed at the end of the nave, in the center, just before the steps to the altar. The traditional pillared candles on pedestals sat at each of the four corners. The density of burning incense and tallow wax clung to the air in a hazy veil.

Despite the weather outside, the interior of the church was dark and heavy, the bleakness of the atmosphere dense and austere in both spirit and essence. It all belonged to an old style of life to which Sofia no longer felt a connection. As the procession of mourners came to the casket to pay their last respects, Sofia was more the outsider at Mother’s funeral than the people she didn’t know.

At last she approached the casket and deposited a single calla lily inside, Mother’s favorite flower. Then the priest came and closed the lid. No more goodbyes. She didn’t want to linger by it in such a public way. To everyone present, Sofia looked the part of what they expected her to be, and that was as much part of the ritual as everything else.

Sofia brought a hand over her heart. The gloom encroached on her and she longed to step outside in the sunshine and leave it all behind her.

Margarida touched her elbow. The priest had started the mass. She returned to her seat next to Margarida and Paulo, and gripped the back of the pew in front of them. It was cool under her touch, polished and bearing the marks from centuries of other fingers before her. The three of them rose and sat at all the right times, they made the signs of the cross, they repeated the words, and sang the hymns. But none of it brought comfort and peace to her heart.

The service at the cemetery was mercifully short.

Paulo and Margarida drove Sofia home and Margarida accompanied her to the apartment.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you tonight?”

“You need to go home and rest, Margarida.”

Margarida’s hand slipped to the small roundness of her belly. “I’m feeling better these days. I could spend the night.”