“Then why did you?” There was no anger on his face, or his voice.
I dropped my eyes to the floor, and realized that a lot of it was cracked and uneven, clearly due to the constant presence of people bustling around in the kitchen.
“I guess…I just wannaknow,” I said, and then glanced at Mr. Ribeiro. “I feel like Ihaveto know, for some reason.”
He said nothing, and only kept looking at me for a long, contemplative moment. Or maybe it was an uncertainty about my intentions of wanting to know. I honestly couldn’t tell.
“Have you heard of the March 2000Laura. M. Boutiquefire?” he asked.
The hair on the back of my neck rose at the leveled calm he exuded in that moment. “Yes,” I managed to say.
He looked at me –reallylooked – and I saw a glimmer of unshed tears in his brown eyes.
“Ours was a case of ‘In the wrong place at the wrong time’, I’ll say,” he began, and then swallowed once. “Carina didn’t wanna go to school that day, because on her way back home a week ago, she’d seen a dress at the boutique that she really wanted. And, when you’re six years old and an only child, you get what you want. So, we decided to make it a family trip and get some absolutely unnecessary shopping done.” He sighed and wiped a hand over his jaw. “We’d just made it out of the boutique when Madison found a fault in the bill. Apparently, the cashier had added a couple of items to our list that weren’t ours. Herand João decided to head in again and get the money back, so my wife, Irene, and I decided to take Carina to the McDonald’s just oppositeLaura’sfor a quick ice cream.” He sniffed. “We heard the outer glass explode while we were waiting for our ice creams, and then, right before my eyes – before I could even comprehend what was happening – the entire boutique went up in flames.” He shuddered, so I turned and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator.
“Here.” I handed him the bottle, and then knelt beside him. I watched helplessly as he continued to shiver under the weight of the dreadful memory, and felt something in my gut twist so hard that I flinched a little at the pain.
“Carina screamed for them as soon as we ran out of McDonald’s – over, and over, andover…” Mr. Ribeiro closed his eyes and shook his head. “But it was useless. They weregone. They were gone, and there wasnothingI could do, no one I could turn to for help.” He took a long swig from the water bottle. “There were 64 casualties that day, including João and Madison. The fire department said it was arson – some sort of rivalry at play, which was later revealed fully through news and the media. But…” He looked at me – a man so broken I was scared he’d crumble before me. “I keep asking myself: What if Carina had decided to go to school that day? What if we hadn’t decided to go out shopping when Madison suggested it? What if I’d asked her not to go back in after reading the bill? What if I’d asked João to convince her not to? What if…” He let go of an unsteady breath and shook his head again. “That’s all I’m left with: what ifs, maybes, if onlys. All of them baseless against the significance of my loss, really.”
He was right; nothing mattered. What was taken from him would never come back to him, and thinking about it constantly would only empower agonizing and unwarranted guilt to take over him.
Life really was a bitch, wasn’t she?
I placed a hand on his left knee. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. Ribeiro.”
He sighed again and gave me a faint nod. “That day – it was the last I ever heard my Carina’s voice. All those speech therapy sessions and meetings with her doctors over the years did nothing,meantnothing. She can hear just fine, but she can’t speak. I don’t want to say she’s lost her voice, because really, she hasn’t. I guess…I guess she never reallytriedto put it to use after the accident. It’s like she forgot about it; forgot to speak, and what it means in general.
It took us a couple of years, but when the three of us found a rhythm and began living our lives normally, I thought the darkness that’d surrounded us was gone, that it had decided to finally leave our doorstep, but…” He laughed then, a haunting gesture that made my heart race. “I guess God wasn’t done punishing this family, because in 2017, I lost my Irene to metastatic melanoma.” When I squeezed his knee in assurance, because I really didn’t have words to salve the pain I knew he was feeling just by revisiting the past, he gently patted my hand and gave me a glum smile. “But she fought, Myles; my wife didn’t give up till the very end. She was brave, willing to grab a chance at life, no matter how slim it was. But, in the end, she lost. The strongest pillar in the foundation of my existence just…collapsed. Her death wasn’t sudden, sure, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t hoping against hope, that I didn’t pray that she’d break the cycle of inevitability for me and Carina.”
We were quiet for a while, with only the occasional jeering of a flock of blue jays as they moved around the neighborhood, keeping us indirect company.
I glanced at Mr. Ribeiro, and found him staring blankly at the glass window in the living room. I followed his direction, andwatched as thin sheets of snow fell peacefully on the hoods of trucks and cars alike.
He’d seen, felt, and recovered from so much, and yet, he knew how to balance himself, knew how to look the part for others; how to mask what was really on the inside. It may not always be necessary, but it was important, especially when it felt like the walls around you were close to falling apart. Everyone had to act or pretend in this world. The range of it, though, depended on the level of one’s struggles and bruises. And also their conveniences, perhaps.
Mr. Ribeiro threw the half-empty water bottle into the bin to his right, and made to stand. I rose quickly, and then helped him to his feet before handing him his cane. He briefly placed a hand over my head, and gave me another smile – a clear one this time – before saying, “Let me show you the storeroom so that you can get an estimate, huh, son?”
I could see it on his face – that soundless plea of wanting a distraction from the fresh wave of agony he was experiencing. And, because it was the least I could do for him, given that he’d entrusted me with such crucial memories of his past, I nodded and followed him out of the kitchen.
4. A Dream
The electronic cuckoo chimed beautifully as I opened the shop’s glass door and walked in.Avôhated, and I meanhated, the cuckoo bell I’d gotten installed last year, but I absolutely loved it. Every time the door opened and closed, and the cuckoo chirped, he’d glare at it as if he wanted nothing more than to strangle it. He couldn’t, obviously, but it was quite a hilarious tradition between us and our employees.
I shivered as I settled into the plush chair behind the main counter. I’d forgotten to grab my coat on the way out – distracted as I was by a certain constructor – and now every inch of me was cold as fucking ice.
Justgreat.
The toasty air inside the shop was working a little too slowly to my liking as I dusted the slightly melted snow off of me, switched on the multi-colored fairy lights that adorned the front of the counter, turned on the laptop, placed my purse next to it, and smiled at Simran and Remi when they greeted me good morning.
As I looked around the shop, I couldn’t help but be in awe of what we had –Avôand I, I mean. We never took our shop, or its success, for granted, because we knew what it stood for, and what it meant to our family name.
The shop was myBisavô’svision brought to life. He’d moved to Chicago with his family at a very young age, and by the time he turned twenty-three, he’d decided to contribute to the society by bringing an essence of our culture to life for the people and city he’d come to love and appreciate so much. It’s only because of his vision and determination thatVila do Açaíis as successful as it is among Chicagoans of all ages, and I couldn’t thank him more for the legacy he’s left behind for the family.
Açaíis well-loved and used in Brazil. It could even be called as a staple of sorts, if I did say so myself. It’s one of the top match-up picks for dessert and baked goods for us Brazilians, which is whyBisavôhad decided to introduce it to the American culture.
I leaned back in my chair and drummed my long nails over the stack of papers next to the laptop.
The décor atVilado Açaíwas a pleasant combination of purple and white, and everything in the shop sang of elegance and simplicity. Lavender walls and ceilings, with massive frames of Açaí desserts hung candidly on the former. White-tiled flooring, glass display cases, along with warm lighting throughout the area that kinda contrasted, but also complemented, the shop.
