Memories of San Juan

Chapter 17

“I’m so sorry, Christina,” I said earnestly to her when we were already walking up the hill towards the gardens of the villa.

  “It’s all right, dear, but just so you know that I am responsible for you in front of your mother and Richard, so in the future be more careful.”

  “I promise not to ever repeat such an incident one more time, but I hope you won’t say anything.”

  Slowing down in her tracks, she faced me and put a wet strand of hair behind my ear tenderly just like how a mother does. Then that was when I realized how old she really was. The ages of her life emerged as lines on her face and the dampness of her eyes showed her childish innocence that had never faded away since her beginning days. “Do not worry about that beloved, you can trust me that I won’t. But keep your promise.”

  Grinning at her, I said, “I will.”

  “Well then, follow me. Let me get you cleaned up.”

  “But how I will enter the house? I can’t enter like this.”

  “I will take you through the kitchen door.”

  She led the way and I trailed from behind as I observed the other animals in the farm farther down. The horses were startling; they in reality glimmered under the sun glow. Entering the grand kitchen, I saw Christina at the sink, watering a napkin to clean my dress.

  “Sit down here, dear. Let me clean that dirt off.”

  I tiptoed towards where she stood so my muddy feet wouldn’t stain the highly polished floor and sat down on the chair she offered. “Where is the spot?”

  “Here,” she said holding it out for me to see.

  Seeing how filthy my clothing actually was, I felt guilty letting her clean it. “You shouldn’t even be doing this, Christina. It’s my mess, so allow me to clean it,” I said and took hold of that part of my outfit.

  She pulled it away from my clutch gently, “Rosalina, you don’t need to do that. It’s my job. Let me just clean it and you can go up and get cleaned the way you want to.”

  Sighing hopelessly at my own self, I quietly responded, “Okay, thank you. But you really shouldn’t have.”

  She looked up at my face and smiled, then returned her attention back to the stain. “I see you don’t really like being helped.”

  “No it’s not that. I’m only trying to be fair by washing my own untidiness and not asking you to do it for me.”

  “I can also see that you’re not grateful.”

  “Not true!” I yelled surprisingly. Immediately her laughter filled the atmosphere in the kitchen, making me laugh too.