Sonder Village

by Taylor Hobbs

  She ran back over to the window, and of course Isabella was now outside talking to Bieito. The other woman flirtatiously fingered the necklace she wore while attempting to get his attention, but Remy could see that he was distracted. Good, she thought, and smirked.

  Having had just about enough of all the drama she could stand for the day, Remy rapped sharply on the window. When that didn’t garner a response from either Bieito or Isabella down below, Remy turned her fist and started banging. “Hey!” she yelled.

  That worked. Bieito turned around in confusion, before finally looking up. Remy stopped banging and gave him a wave and a smile. Bieito waved back hesitatingly, as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing. Remy pointed to her dress and then gave him a thumbs up. Could I be more awkward? she thought, and rolled her eyes. “Oh wait, not you!” she tried to explain, as Bieito’s face fell. She motioned for him to come into the house, and as he started to move forward, Isabella blocked him.

  “Remy?” María called through the closed door. “Are you still in there?”

  “I’m here! The door is stuck.”

  “Isabella said you’d already snuck out to go and find my brother-in-law, but when I saw her outside—”

  “Can you get the door open?” She gritted her teeth for her next lie. “I guess I accidentally locked myself in once I told Isabella I was fine to finish getting ready on my own.”

  Remy heard a click and then a creak. “Oh, you look stunning!” María said.

  “Nothing compared to the bride,” Remy said, smiling at her new friend’s radiance. “But, I have to go.”

  “I’m sorry, Remy,” María confessed. “I shouldn’t have sent you up here with her. I thought that she was past all this, but I guess not. You’ll have to excuse my cousin. She’s been through a lot this past year, with the death of her husband.”

  Oh. That explains a lot. “I won’t think twice about it,” Remy promised. She gave a twirl on top of the landing. “Everything in place?” she asked.

  “Bieito will think you’re a dream.”

  Remy decided to take it as a compliment, but, having had difficulty distinguishing between dreams and reality of late, she didn’t know if being someone’s dream was a good thing.

  “Now go!” María laughed at her. Remy didn’t need to be told twice.

  When Remy got down to the street, Bieito was still trying to politely extract himself from the conversation with Isabella. “…If you’ll excuse me, I really must—” he was saying.

  “If I could just get your help with one thing—” Isabella interrupted him.

  Bieito inhaled sharply when his eyes landed on Remy. “Remy,” he said, almost as a sigh. And just like that, Remy and Bieito were the only two people in the world. Everything else faded away as Remy saw herself through his eyes. Any worries she had about not being welcome at the wedding disappeared, because she just fit right here—wherever “here” really was—with him.

  Isabella must have seen herself off, because Remy couldn’t remember her leaving. She could barely remember her own name. In more clothing than she had ever worn, she had never felt more naked in her life. Remy swallowed before she spoke. “Thank you for the dress. You really didn’t have to…”

  “You came,” he said, direct as ever. “I was worried that you wouldn’t.”

  “Then why did you buy me this dress?”

  “Because I hoped you would.” He cleared his throat. “I tried to find you the past couple of days, to apologize for my family’s brash behavior at dinner. I may have had too much to drink; my memories are confused. I feared you had left…”

  “Not by choice,” Remy mumbled, before she spoke up and said, “I’m just happy I found my way back here in time.” “Found” being the operative word. How do I keep getting back here? she asked herself, but her brain felt like it was fighting her from questioning it too closely. More importantly, can I control when I leave? Trying to ask that question almost made Remy black out. She shook her head to clear her vision and focused on the man in front of her.

  What did it matter, if she was here now? She held out her hand as an invitation, and Bieito took it, flipping her palm upward. He bent down to kiss the inside of her wrist, a gentle, even chaste touch that sent tremors through Remy’s body. It felt strangely intimate out in the middle of the street where anyone could see.

  Bieito straightened up. “Forgive me,” he said, but the twinkle in his eye showed that he was anything but remorseful. “I’ve been waiting to do that since…well, I met you.” Seeing that Remy had accepted both his gift and invitation had emboldened Bieito, and Remy could see his flirtatious side starting to emerge. This wedding is about to get really interesting.

  Chapter Nine

  The ceremony was a little long and religious for Remy’s taste, but the bride and groom looked so smitten with each other that Remy could ignore the hard seat under her butt while the priest droned on. When Bieito gave Remy a wink after Lino and María sealed their marriage with a kiss, Remy felt the giddy excitement of being twenty-three again. How long had it been since she felt this carefree?

  When the time came to celebrate out in the square, Remy dove in headfirst into the festivities with abandon. She filled herself to the brim with wine and food and conversation as though she had been starving for weeks, which in a way, she had been. Remy lost her self-consciousness and feeling of being an outsider while at Bieito’s side. He seemed more than happy to show off his American date and introduced her to the rest of the villagers, all of whom Remy was not surprised to find out lived somewhere on her property.

  Remy was seeing and experiencing her village as how it should be, bursting with life, and not as the lonely, abandoned property she was determined to fix by herself. It didn’t bother her that all these people weren’t really supposed to be here. It just felt right, until Bieito led her into the middle of the street for a dance. That’s when Remy felt like a fish out of water again.

  The haunting cry of bagpipes reached Remy’s ears, and she looked around for the source as the townspeople lined up, men on one side and women on the other. The folk music picked up the pace with the addition of a tambourine, while Bieito took her by the shoulders and set her in place across from him.

  “What’s happening?” she asked.

  “Follow along as best you can. I trust you’ll be fine, this is in your blood.”

  “But I don’t dance—” she tried to protest, but now she was surrounded on all sides by celebrating Galicians, and there was no way she could escape the revelry. I’ll just have to suck it up and try not to trip anyone or fall flat on my face.

  “It’s the muiñeira,” Bieito said, as he started to kick his feet. “You feel it inside of you, and you just move.” Remy watched carefully as Bieito moved his feet in the semblance of an Irish jig, only more loosely and free-formed. His arms raised above his head like he was holding castanets, and he twirled counter-clockwise. When he saw that she remained frozen in place, trying to analyze his movements, he laughed. “Like your art, Remy. Don’t think too hard. Just let your mind rest and your body take over.”

  Dubiously, Remy stared down the line of villagers and saw everyone doing some variation of Bieito’s movements, but nobody seemed particularly concerned about the technicalities of the dance. Each person had their own flair, but their bodies all held the same lightness and joy as the music flowed through them.

  She waited for the right beat to come in on and gave her foot a tentative kick in time with the rest of the women. Fumbling a bit while she tried to keep time with their footwork, her feet tangled up in her unfamiliar skirts and she staggered backward. Down the line, she felt eyes on her and turned to see Isabella’s judgmental stare and smirk. The woman tossed her head and gave an extra-graceful twirl just to rub it in.

  Remy straightened up and got back in line. Her eyes found Bieito’s, and held in their trance-like intensity, she blocked everything else out and started to dance. Once she started moving and stopped thinking, R
emy was swept away with the rest of the dancers. Like the Romans and their worship of Dionysus, the swirling mass of bodies was caught up in the ecstasy of celebration.

  Until María came over to interrupt the pair, Remy hadn’t even realized she was getting tired. When the bride grabbed Remy’s outstretched hand, it jarred her like a scratch on a record player. Everything halted as Remy’s consciousness returned from the collective and catapulted back into her own body. The link that connected her to Bieito on a fundamental level was severed, and the aftershock left her cold, though she still sweated from exertion. Wild-eyed, she stared at the bride, trying to remember where she was.

  María grinned at her. “Watching you and Bieito was everything I had hoped!” she said, glowing with happiness. “Now, my new husband apparently has to talk to his brother about something that cannot wait until later, so please come join me at my table and have some refreshments! You have been dancing for quite some time.”

  Remy turned around to look for her date, but Lino was already dragging Bieito off to the far side of the party, toward a table where a rough group of men were sitting.

  “Where is he going?” Remy asked the bride.

  María waved a hand, unconcerned. “They might be new workers at the port. From what Bieito told me, Lino has been so excited about the wedding that he was telling everyone. That boy cannot keep anything to himself! They might have just decided to come by.”

  “You don’t mind that they crashed your wedding?”

  “Crashed?”

  “Arrived uninvited,” Remy explained.

  “If they want to celebrate with us, then I am happy they came!”

  They didn’t look much in the mood to celebrate to Remy. They weren’t joining in the festivities like everyone else, keeping themselves separated and secluded. The setting sun cast long shadows that hid their faces, but their stiff posture indicated that something was wrong. The way Bieito was resisting being towed along by his brother told Remy that these men probably weren’t port workers, and if they were, then Bieito probably didn’t care for them, but didn’t want to make a scene.

  When María stopped to talk to an elderly couple who were bestowing best wishes and kisses on the young woman while telling her to have lots of babies, Remy decided to gracefully excuse herself. Don’t want to taint her with my bad luck, she thought, and then immediately felt guilty for being so bitter. Why, after all these years, couldn’t she be happy for another woman’s situation without thinking about herself? María had been nothing but sweet to Remy, and she and Lino deserved to have a family, if that’s what they wanted. Still, Remy wondered why old people never considered that their words could be hurtful, and that not everyone had the option to have lots of babies. María was graciously accepting the grandparents’ advice when Remy mumbled an excuse and bolted before the bride could protest.

  Remy hid around the back of the bakery and collected her thoughts for a moment. She needed a distraction. Actually, what she really needed was to go back to dancing with Bieito, and not thinking about anything at all.

  She walked the back way around the buildings, instead of through the village, to the table where the men still sat. Uncaring of how they eyeballed her disapprovingly as she approached, Remy realized she liked the look of them even less up close. They just looked—shifty. That was the word for it. Like they were prepared to bolt at any moment. Remy didn’t trust people like that. Bieito, on the other hand, looked almost afraid when she walked up, and placed his body in between Remy and the other men.

  “What are you gentlemen up to?” she asked. Bieito wrapped an arm protectively around her waist and leaned in close to her ear.

  “This is not good time,” he said, low but without malice. Bieito gestured his head over to Lino, who just looked like a little boy caught by his mother with a hand in the cookie jar. Whatever they were up to, Lino looked in over his head.

  “Your wife was asking for you,” Remy said to the groom. “It’s urgent.” She felt the tension ease slightly out of Bieito’s posture. Relief, then, about being given an exit.

  Lino addressed the men. “My apologies. It appears I’m being summoned. We can continue this conversation later, but in the meantime, please stay and enjoy the party.”

  One of the men stood up, shaking his head. “We will be in touch.” At his cue, the other five men rose without saying anything. The leader gave Lino a handshake, gripping until Lino’s fingers turned white. “I trust you and your brother will think about our proposal.” He then turned to Bieito, as if to shake his hand as well, but thought better of it.

  With light feet and swift movements, the men disappeared down the quiet path toward Ortigueira, swallowed by the trees and the rapidly dimming light. Remy thought she saw them mount up on horses, but it was too dark to be sure. “Why didn’t they just drive?” she muttered to herself. Everyone seemed to be taking this themed wedding very seriously.

  Once they were gone, Remy said, “People you work with? They don’t seem like fishermen.”

  Lino laughed nervously and dodged the question. “Where is María?”

  “Over by the refreshments.” It seemed that Remy wasn’t going to get any information out of Lino, but she might have better luck with Bieito once they were alone. As the interrogation plan blossomed in her brain, Lino and Bieito’s father tracked them down.

  While he had been puffed up with pride at the ceremony, gazing with unashamed adoration at his youngest child while he said his vows, Afonso just looked pissed now. “Lino!” he said, storming over to them. “What is going on?”

  Bieito stepped in front of his little brother, blocking him from his father’s less-than-sober wrath. “Don’t tell me you knew about this,” Afonso said.

  Bieito held up his hands. “Nothing, Father. I swear it.”

  “And you, Lino?” Afonso demanded.

  Lino peeked over Bieito’s shoulder. “No harm was done, Father. They just needed to speak with me.”

  “And you thought that bringing them here to our family’s wedding was an appropriate time to do so?”

  “I didn’t invite them,” Lino insisted. “But they didn’t interrupt anything. Look,” he said, gesturing to the party still in full swing in the town square. “No one even noticed they were here.”

  “You endanger yourself, you endanger your bride, you endanger our village—” Afonso stopped himself, realizing that Remy bore witness while he berated his sons like children. Struggling with himself to find the words, he finally said, “This is enough. You will not associate with them anymore. I don’t care about their cause. No sons of mine will be caught up in their madness. Think of your new wife, Lino. She would be heartbroken.”

  What cause? What madness? Remy wanted to know more but bit her tongue. Lino stared straight ahead, fists clenched and bright red with either embarrassment or rage, maybe both. He took a deep breath and stormed off toward the square, without looking back at his father or brother.

  Afonso shook his head. “I thought getting married would put these foolish ideas out of his mind,” he said to Bieito. “Bah. Look at him. At his own wedding…”

  “He has María to look after now, Father. He will come to the realization himself. Eventually.”

  “We’ll keep an eye on him until he does, eh Bieito?” Afonso sighed. “Family.”

  “It was a wonderful wedding, though,” Remy assured the old man. “Really, I don’t think anyone noticed the interruption. María didn’t seem too bothered by it.”

  “Of course, she wasn’t,” Afonso said. “That María—her heart is as big as the sun. I am lucky to call her daughter now.”

  “If only the rest of her family was the same,” Bieito pointed out.

  Afonso chuckled. “Yes, let us be grateful we are not here for your wedding to Isabella.”

  Remy felt a flash of jealousy. Bieito and Isabella? Was that ever a possibility? She had assumed that Isabella’s interest hadn’t been reciprocated, but maybe once upon a time…

 
None of my business, she reminded herself. Be an adult and change the subject. “So, when are you guys doing family photos?” Remy had been surprised that the wedding went straight from the ceremony and into the reception without making the guests wait for the bridal party portraits. She hadn’t seen a photographer or videographer among the crowd during the ceremony, but they could have just been skilled at blending in. Other traditions had been ignored too. There wasn’t a wedding cake on display, no name cards on the tables in the square, no guest signing book. All of the formulaic components that had become commonplace in the American wedding industry were nowhere in sight. It was refreshing, but odd.

  It might have been cultural difference, but it was also rather surprising that none of the guests had even whipped out their cameras or phones for some selfies. Remy hadn’t had her phone with her since getting back to the village but hadn’t missed it at all the entire day. In fact, she had completely forgotten about it until now. Maybe that’s the point? Enjoy the moment instead of worrying how it will look on social media? It was also entirely possible that Lino and María had asked the guests not to bring them as to fit in more seamlessly with the theme. Still, there should be at least a few rule breakers among them.

  Remy snapped awake from her pondering to see Bieito and Afonso looking at her curiously. “Photos?” Bieito asked. “What is a photo?”

  Remy laughed. “Seriously, stop. I know that you guys will probably grumble your way through it, but I’m sure María will want at least a few good photos of the whole family. You can be a good sport for her.”

  The two men exchanged a quick glance. “Señora Remy, are you talking about something American? I’m afraid we are unfamiliar with that word,” Afonso said delicately.

  Was the language barrier back up? Remy had been confident in her Spanish abilities all day, but now doubted herself. “You know,” she tried again to explain, “like portrait pictures?”