The Bound Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The Wedding Party

Jordi talks with Rafiq, Dalia, and Zain and understands what’s happened

Some flowers are for joy and celebration, and some flowers are for sorrow and loss. The petals that had been torn off the flowers to be thrown over the bride in celebration were now blown and piled up in sorrow against the wall by where Jordi sat. All he saw in them was the path that Cecelia had taken, her train had dragged the petals along leaving rolling them up and dumping along the side of the aisle. The white runner was stained by the red rose petals. He sat on the steps to the dais picking up petals and tearing them to shreds. He smelled his finger tips hoping that the heady rose scent would soothe him, but his thoughts went to the smell of her hair, the sensation of her soft curls blowing across his face. 

Rafiq saw this curled up mass of a man, who was a light to moths that circled but never made contact. Everyone seemed to want to talk to him, but when they came close and saw his crushed countenance they flitted away. Rafiq broke through that unspoken barrier, sitting down heavily on the step below Jordi.

“Hey,” Rafiq started.

“Hey,” Jordi forced out.

“Brother, I’m sorry. It doesn’t...I has nothing…”

“What?” Jordi looked up at Rafiq, “You’re going to tell me it has nothing to do with me? It has everything to do with me!”

“I know. I know it seems that way. We’ve been close for a long time, and.”

“And? And then why didn’t you marry her?”

“Me and Dalia, we….” Rafiq looked over at Dalia.

Jordi looked up also and noted their exchange of glances, “Oh, yeah. She’s sweet. You’ll make a nice couple.”

“Thanks. But, dude, it’s not you!” Rafiq waved to Dalia to come over. “Tell him. Tell him it has nothing to do with him.”

“Nope. It doesn’t. I was telling her how great I thought you’d be. But she’s been trying to run away for so long.”

“Run away? For so long? Why?”

“Jordi, it’s not nice for women where we’re from, and it’s especially brutal in our own home. You have no idea what we go through. There’s no freedom, we have to ask to breath,” Dalia’s voice was raising.

Rafiq put his hand on her arm, “Dal, ssshhhh, you don’t want to be heard. Especially here.” He turned back to Jordi, “We had a plan, we’ve been working on it since before you came around. She failed so many times, and I’m guessing she saw here chance here, today, gone.”

There was a commotion as Abu was calling the men together, so Jordi and Rafiq rose and joined the back of the crowd. Dalia found her mother and they ran upstairs to the balcony to try to listen in. 

“We are going to go look for her!” bellowed Abu, “Get your cars, or hire a cab, or walk, or find a moped, I don’t care, but we need to spread out and look for this little wench.”

Jordi grabbed Rafiq as he felt his breath knocked out of him by these words. They looked at each other with glares that made a private contract to find Cecelia on their own. Behind them they heard chanting.

“Gotta look, gotta look, gotta look, gotta go look. I can’t drive. I’ve never learned to drive. No one will ever teach me to drive. I can’t go looking. I need to go looking,” then Zain yelled out, “Cecelia. Come back Cecelia.”

Ignored by the rest of the crowd, Jordi quietly said, “Zain, you can come with me. I have my car down in the parking garage just down the street.”

“I go with you,” yelled Zain in his normally loud talking voice.

“Ssshhhh,” hissed Rafiq, “Don’t let them know you’re going anywhere. You know that will start trouble. Act cool, OK? Just act cool.”

The men were scattering like ants that have lost their line. Their paths crisscrossed until there were just a few left. 

“Lets go,” said Jordi.

“What about me?” called Dalia from above.

“Hurry up,” Rafiq answered.

“Lets follow her path. She went this way,” Jordi signaled.

“I’m changing my dress so I can walk,” Dalia yelled as she went through the door. “I’ll meet you out front.”

The three men pushed through the gate and down the stairs where they found half the bouquet, then a trail of petals going out the metal lattice door. The large garbage can was pushed away from the curb, and more petals were in the street. Turning the corner they found Dalia out of breath in her designer sweatsuit, still with full makeup on. 

“You’re a sight,” laughed Rafiq. 

Dalia grimaced in return, “Thanks.”

“No google eyes! No mushy mushy,” scolded Zain.

“He’s right,” snorted Jordi, “Com’on.”

It was just a block and ½ to the parking garage, but it felt an eternity to Jordi. They walked down the ramp and Jordi gasped. “More petals! Look!”

“She must have come down here,” Dalia said as she zigzagged looking for more petals. “But why? This doesn’t make sense.”

“No, but lets keep looking,” Jordi encouraged them to spread out, “This may be just the detour she needed to avoid the hunting party.”

“I don’t think she stayed. See the petals going back up the other ramp,” pointed out Rafiq. 

“Ok, then lets take my car. She took that moped, so we’ll never find her on foot.”

They drove down into the Gothic district, but not being sure what to look for they just drove in circles.

“These little roads are just right for a moped, but we can’t take the car in there. I’ll park and lets see what we can find walking around.”

They were in the Born neighborhood, which took them into the plaça where the restaurants were. They passed by a bench with two drunk women talking about how drunk they were, then went south down Carrer del Rec. They were ahead of Cecelia’s travels at this point, and thinking she’d take a circuitous route, they followed the little alleys back and forth. 

Coming back out they saw the same two drunk women who were now talking loudly about the crazy looking bride.

“That must be her,” Jordi said to the other, then ran up to the women, “Where did she go? Where did the bride go?”

“Chill out, man. Chill. She went that way and crashed,” the woman snickered.

Her friend laughed too, then said, “What do you want a mess like that for? I’m single.”

Jordi turned away repulsed and ran down in the direction they pointed. “Here,” he yelled back to the others, “This has got to be her moped! She had to have gone down hard. I do hope she’s OK.”

“Now we know what direction she’s going,” panted Dalia, “Lets keep going this way.” 

“No, first let's park the moped over here. We don’t want anyone else catching her trail, not after what I heard today.”

“Are we going to find her?” Zain asked Rafiq, “I’m afraid. She’s lost. Gotta go look, gotta go look.”

Jordi turned back to Zain, “Where do you think she would go?”

“Me, I don’t know,” Zain waved his arms around haphazardly.

“Zain, you have a sense about these things. Let's just stop and think for a moment. We know she’s going this way, so where next?”

Zain plodded past the crash sight then turned right past the church. “No moped, oweee! She wants to get away from the crowd.”

They followed Zain as he went past the church and took a left. It was the wrong way. Their evening was spent cutting back and forth. Jordi know the Gothic district well enough, but he couldn’t be sure they weren’t retracing their steps. 

“Let’s leave some notes laying around for her,” suggested Dalia.

“No, I don’t think that’ll work. She’ll just think it’s a trick of Abu’s and won’t call us. Besides, she knows your number,” Rafiq said.

“My phone,” exclaimed Dalia, “I left it back as Casa Battlo! What if she’s trying to call me.” 

“I don’t know if we’re going to find anything else tonight. We should go back,” replied Rafiq. 

“You go back. I’m going to keep looking,” said Jordi.

“I stay with you, Gotta go look, gotta go look,” insisted Zain.

“No, Zain, Abu will get mad if we leave you with Jordi. He’ll say that you’re going to run away next. I’m surprised they haven’t sent a search party for me,” Dalia sighed. 

The three went back, leaving Jordi wandering the streets. He walked past kabob restaurants and empanada restaurants and thought about grabbing a quick bite, but realized that he couldn’t stomach any food in that moment. His thorough scouring of the streets brought him to the grate where he saw the strip of fabric.

He pulled with great effort to get the shoe heal out, and remove the bit of fabric that smelled of Cecelia’s perfume. But that’s where the trail ran dry for him. Cecelia had been removed from the streets by Lorelei and was now completely hidden away.

 

Jordi and Zain hunt for Cecelia

 

Before they left, Dalia, Rafiq and Zain came with Jordi many times to look. Zain decided that he liked Jordi and insisted on sitting in the front of the car with Jordi whenever they went anywhere. Jordi was patient with Zain, and tried to answer all of  his many questions. 

It was now months later as he sat at a small table outside the Cafe Diablo, a long narrow hole in the wall with a small bar inside and a few tables inside and along the alley. The late summer breeze kept blowing a lock of hair across his forehead, that he brushed back repeatedly. He caught the scent of roses from the nearby planter, and noticed the petals that had fallen from the flowers gathered around the pot on the pavers. Their arrangement was unaltered by any footsteps, just a gathering of the petals on the leeward side on the pot. He reached out his foot, and dragged it through the pile of petals trying to clear a small path. The pile just rolled up under his foot and made a smooshed lump. It made him think of death and loss. 

Scowling, he nonchalantly looked up and saw the backside of a woman turning the corner. The shape of her shoulder, the way her hair curled and blew in the wind pulled him out of himself and made him catch his breath. ‘It’s her,” he thought as his brain caught up with his gut.

“I’ll be back,” he shouted a little too loud at his table neighbor, as he jumped up and ran after her. When he rounded the corner there was nothing to see. The narrow street was just a line of black and brown doors, small balconies, and a few hanging plants. It felt as if the upper floors of the buildings were leaning in towards each other letting only the slightest sliver of the sky peek through. He ran, looking back and forth to each door to see if there was any sign they had just been opened. He came to the shop El Ingenio, and ran his foot across the grate where he had pulled out the shoe and fabric. Pressing his fist into his lips, he cautiously leaned forward to look in the door without revealing himself. He wasn’t sure if he could see Cecelia again. There was a pop of color that looked like the dress he had just seen, but the shop was so full of colors, every color, that he just couldn’t tell.

Jordi righted himself then slowly and casually entered the store, hands stuck in his pocket as if he were just a curious tourist. He looked at the wares close at hand, and then made a sweeping search of the store. He had to crane his neck to the side to see further in, so moved to the back of the store quickly hunting around the corners of each alcove. He was about to go through a curtained door, but stopped by the clerk.

“Not in the workshop, sir,” said the clerk.

“Oh, uh, I was just looking for my friend. I thought she told me she would be back here. Did a woman come this way?”

“There are many women that shop here. Can you be more specific?”

“Brown hair, about yay long,” he held his hand just below his shoulder. But no, this woman’s hair had been longer. “No, this long,” he moved his hand further down his arm.

“Ah, yes, the oh so unusual woman that has brown hair,” the clerk mocked him.

Jordi took in a slow breath through his nostrils, and a big breath back out through his mouth before he answered with the words clenched behind his teeth, “She had on a crimson dress, or a shirt. It was dark red, her shoulder was dark red.”

“I don’t think I can help you, sir. I was busy stocking the heads when you walked in. I probably wouldn’t have noticed you except that you bumped up against my leg. I thought you might knock me off the step ladder.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize. I didn’t notice you.”

“I’m well aware of that. I could tell.”

“Let me know if you see her, please.”

“How will I do that? I don’t know you from Adam.”

“Here, I’ll write my number down for you.”

“Sure, sure. I’ll call you when I see a lady with brown hair about this long or this long,” he snapped his head back in derision. 

Jordi wrote his number down on a ripped scrap of paper and left the store. He wandered back around the block thinking about how this was no coincidence seeing here near the store, where he had lost her trail. He hadn’t lost it, this is where it had ended. As he passed by the cafe, still distracted by his search, the waiter came chasing after him yelling about his bill. With an apology, Jordi paid the waiter for his coffee and croissant, and gave him a 100% tip. This appeased the waiter, who thanked him and invited him to come again, any time!

His search was now renewed. He had seen her, he was assured of that. Had she seen him and run? Or was it just a chance encounter. He decided that he would sit inside by the window next time, maybe with a baseball cap on to hide his face a little more. Then if she passed by he wouldn’t been seen so quickly. 

He was determined again. His heart ache renewed.

 

Jordi Finds Cecelia’s message in her secret language and knows he’s close (does he leave a message for her to find?)

 

Jordi returned to the Cafe Diablo again and again. He didn’t like the name, but he could sit inside or outside and see the plaza. Today the only seat was inside in the back, so he sat with his cafe’ latte and looked blankly at his journal. The leather cover was now scratched and stained, the long tie that wrapped around the outside was stretched and curled at the end. He had scribbled his sightings of Cecelia, the people who may have seen her, drawings of the area. This was the place that she seemed to frequent the most, so he waited. But he was growing weary again and was losing hope that she would ever turn up. 

He was also tired of vigilantly looking, and just wanted to relax. His attempt at relaxing turned into thumbing through his journal again. There was chatter of the people around him, which he paid little attention to until he heard her voice. She had just paid and was saying thank you with her delicious accent.

Jordi jumped up, trying to chase after her, but he was impeded by the other people in the restaurant. He zig-zaged through the tables and around people, pushing through the crowd with his chest forward like a racer at the finish line. He doesn’t see her, however, he knows the corner so well now, and follows her as if he was a hound following her scent. He has practiced this chase, and is able to follow her almost to her door. 

He knows now which alley she has been hiding down, but there are many doors, many metal roll ups that are closed. A few tree branches hang over a tall jagged wall. He knocks on some doors, but no one answers. 

Jordi walked back and forth on this alley, circling when something caught his attention. He tried a few more doors, peered into the courtyard where the gate was locked. The madness of the situation had captured him, spiraling him in circles of hope and despair.

He didn’t notice the weather changing at first, but then the wind kept beating at him with insistence. It wanted his attention and jabbed him with cold, so he headed back to the plaça where he could find shelter and wait. The streets of Barcelona are cleaned every night, so it was unusual to see sheets of paper being flipped around by the wind. Some papers settled for the moment in a corner, and he pounced on them, and brought them along with him wadded up in his hand.

The outdoor tables were abandoned, and the few stragglers that hadn’t run home were huddled in the back. The waiters were frantically gathering umbrellas and chairs. Jordi took up a seat at the counter, and unraveled the papers, curious to see what this paper that felt handmade could be. There were two sheets, a creamy white, rough to the touch. The creases remained like wrinkled linen while he looked in amazement at the writing. This was Cecelia’s writing, there was no doubt. It was the same coded language that she had used before. Zain had taught it to him, just in case. He read what was before him in dismay.

Translation:

Austrailian Mirror Spider

 AKA: sequined Spider

Normal life span: unknown, Probably about a year, as long as 7 years

How long without food: 30-60 days, the longer the bigger they are

— seems way to hungery to last even 30 days, maybe because he’s so big

Ultra sonic Pest repeller—

Can I use this on Aurelio? 

Will it make him run, or make him mad?

 

Cold blooded: Spiders are cold blooded

-will slow down in cold weather

-may die in cold

Do spiders sleep?

-can’t close eyes

- do become inactive

-more like domancy than sleep

 

Cecelia had written notes about spiders, and not just any spider: the Australian Mirror Spider. She had notes about temperatures, and life cycles, questions about mutations and life span. The more he read, the more anxious he got. His sweaty hands smeared the ink, so he kept wiping them off on his pants as he turned the pages over and over again and again. 

Did he need any more clues? He knew who it was.

“Aurelio,” he breathed with fire, “I’m going to kill you.”

Face to the floor, eyes out the door, he contemplated his next move. The wind blew into the glass like a solid mass, shaking the panes and startling everyone inside. Then suddenly rain danced in with the wind, turning and stomping to its own rhythm. The trees bowed at their dance, and threw branches into the fray.

Jordi got up to leave. He was going to start banging on every door in that alley, and find Aurelio, and find Cecelia. Before he could exit the matrade blocked his way. “You can’t go out there! It’s too dangerous.”

“I must. I have to go save someone.”

“There’s no one going to be out in this. Stay here, and do your saving after, or else you’ll need some saving too.” He firmly pushed Jordi back onto the stool. Then he announced to the whole restaurant, “No one is leaving until the storm passes.”

Jordi replied with silent compliance, rubbing the pages in his pocket like a worry doll. He sat on the stool closest to the door and watched. The dance continued, and became a sloppy, confused and unrecognizable with the deluge of water. The water puddled, then flowed, then piled up and rose. His anxiousness rose with the level of the flood, but knew that Aurelio wouldn’t be going anywhere in this weather. And he reasoned that if Cecelia was with Aurelio this whole time that she wasn’t going to be a victim any time soon. 

Jordi desperately wanted to leave, now that he knew the truth of the situation his wife was in. Now that he knew that his enemy had resurfaced his anxious anger simmered under pressure. He could feel his heart drumming so hard that he looked down at his chest to see if it were visible, then he forced himself to breathe deeply. Rising and falling whistles forced cold shots of air through the cracks around the windows, which complained with rattles about being beaten with rain and debris. Jordi sat with his shoulders raised, arms squeezed in, fists clenched, legs bouncing. 

He waited as the storm pounded and drummed on the windows, and the water rose and came indoors uninvited. 

Jordi persists and comes out to look for her in the midst of the storm because he know’s he’s close to finding her

 

As the hours passed, the waters rose up around his ankles, then to mid calf and suddenly there was a calm blue sky above and still air. Jordi was followed out by the huddled crowd into the plaça, all eyes looking in close-mouthed awe at the blue sky. Around them, towering above the rooftops was a circular wall of clouds, spun like cotton candy. Debris of branches, garbage, shoes bumped against their legs, mostly unrecognizable in the murky waters. 

Jordi grabbed the arm of the man standing nearest to him, “I have to go. I have to go find them.”

“Who, what?” the man replied in confusion.

“No, you should stay,” called the matrade from behind the man. He tried to grab at Jordi, but was blocked by the girth of the stranger.

Jordi slogged off in the direction of the alley, picking up his feet in high and wide steps. 

The stranger turned to the Matrade, “Let him go. He’s been shaking the whole time the storm was blowing through.”

“Don’t you see,” replied the matrade, “The storm’s not done. We’re just in the eye.” Then calling out, “Amigo, amigo! Come back!”

“I have to go,” was all that Jordi said as he moved aside a large branch floating in the water and continued on.

 

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