Soldado Del Paraiso

Chapter I- Blisters

The blisters on my hands peeled with each swing, forcing me to readjust my grip on the shovel. Pain shot through my left shoulder like a bee sting as I drove the blade deeper into the scorching earth.

Deeper. I had to dig deeper.

"It has to be deeper, at least hip deep." I said to my wife, 

 I could feel the damp heat of the earths walls trying to choke me.

"That's enough Javier." my wife said.

Last month I buried my mother, dogs dug out her grave and the foulness of her decaying body filled the air.

"Dogs won't get to my Angelita." I said.

Wrapped in an old white blanket was my little angel but  I was too tired to grieve.

"I got her head." I said.

My wife's silence echoed louder than any words could convey. With each mound of dirt I placed upon our daughter's tiny form, I sank deeper into a void of despair, feeling the weight of emptiness enveloping my very essence. All that remained was the numbness, a cold and unyielding reality I had to bear.

Wild flowers was all I could place on her grave, it was all I could find for her. Yellow dandelions, they were her favorite. My wife made a simple cross to mark my Angelita's resting place. In the distance, a figure caught my eye, a man dressed in black vestments against the backdrop of his white shirt. As I approached, squinting against the glare of the sun, I recognized him as the mayor.

"Javier, I'm sorry for your loss." he said.

"What do want?" I said.

He took out a piece of paper, creased and handled with such indifferent disregard.

"This." he said.

"What does it say?" I said.

"It says, you have yet to pay the government 2000 pesetas" he said.

What business do I have with 2000 pesetas? Does he not know that I could only afford a blanket for a coffin? Does he not see I have no shoes? My poverty laid bare for all to see? Such thoughts raced through my mind, mingling with the bitterness of injustice.

"I cannot possibly give what I do not have." I said, my voice tinged with frustration.

"Sell your land Javier." he said, his tone devoid of sympathy.

"Sell my land? This is all we have left." 

"It hasn't rained in 3 years, Javier," 

"How much time do I have?" I said.

"You have until Thursday, it says." he said.

"But today's Monday, how can I possibly come up with that money? When was this? You should have come earlier." I said.

"Today, yesterday , last week, does it fucking matter?" he said.

"Is there any other way?" I said.

"Sell your wife in Cordoba, I don't know, just fucking pay." he said.

Enraged, I shoved him and seized him by his worn black vest, the pain shooting through my shoulder only fueling my fury.

"What did you say? You want me to whore my wife?" I said.

I shoved him again making him stumble for a moment.

"You think I want this Javier? You think I like sending you, and your brother to fight in the colonies!?" his voice laden with defeat and shame.

"Get off my land!" I said.

He straightened his collar, avoiding my gaze as his eyes fell to the ground. "You have until Thursday," he muttered quietly, his words hanging heavily in the air.

"Leave! " I said

He turned away his eyes, once unkind, now betrayed a glimmer of regret, weary from the burden of sending men like me to their deaths.

Perhaps it was my destiny to die in one of the colonies. My brother died in Cuba, his body was never found. I wondered what monsters they will have me fight for a king I have never met. I wonder if they will dig a grave for me.

That evening my wife prepared supper with whatever little we had. Salted fish... some wild mushrooms, mixed in a pot full of water. I sat  at our barren dining table, illuminated by the feeble glow of a solitary gas lamp. My wife approached, bearing a bowl of meager stew and stale bread. As she placed the bowl before me, her gentle touch graced my aching shoulder.

"Does it hurt Javier?"

The flood that had built up in my chest, the squeezing feeling of despair, the cruelty of my existence like an unhealed wound has manifested in my eyes.  My wife's tears that had been hidden away for years also came that night.

I touched her hand, that was on my shoulder. All the pain and sorrow could no longer be kept. 

I stood up from my stool and went to our room, with very little light that came from the kitchen. I opened the chest where I stored my clothes that could be mistaken for rags. I peeled them away one by one, and at the bottom was a purse.

My wife followed me into our room and asked "What are you doing Javier?"

 I picked up the old purse and showed it to my wife.

"Maria, this is our last wheat seeds. You could plant them when I leave." I said

"Javier, it hasn't rained for 3 years." she said.

"No, I could feel the warmth of the earth earlier, it wasn't dry anymore. Rain will come soon, just like what my grandfather taught me" I said.

My wife clasped my hand holding the purse of seeds,

"Come back home Javier. Promise me, you come back home."

I looked into her brown eyes, barely lit by our small lamp from the kitchen.

"I will." I said.

My wife softly closed her eyes.

"Close your eyes Javier." she said.

So I did.

"Can you see me? Can you see Angelita?" my wife said.

"Yes." I said.

"We will never be apart." she said.

As her arms embraced me, the warmth of her touch to momentarily chased away the pain in my soul. In a world  of cruelty and pain, that fleeting moment felt like heaven amidst the chaos of the world.