“Never marry a Mexican”, is what I told my two daughter, Clemencia and Ximena only once. I didn’t want them to go through the same struggles that I went through, marrying at such a young age. They deserved to have a better future that could bring them happiness. A happiness that I didn’t have since I was seventeen. When I heard Clemencia tell me that she would never marry it brought some relief but sadness as well because I did want her to marry and have children eventually. I hoped that she would have a marriage where her husband wouldn’t think that he married below him. I loved my husband but in a way, the relationship felt to fast. It felt as if though one second I was enjoying the freedom that I had as a young adult and then I was walking down the aisle a couple months later.
Years passed and I saw my two little daughters grow into two young and beautiful ladies.My husband was still very loving and caring but my feelings seemed to fade away the more that time passed. Our home didn’t feel much like a home and as much as I hate to admit it, I was no longer happy. But what could I do? I, a thirty four year old Mexican-American woman, mother of two couldn’t do much.I couldn’t talk to my husband about it because I was afraid that he would be disappointed in me after all the sacrifices that he had made for the family and I couldn’t tell my family members because they would say that I wasn’t an ideal housewife and
mother. All I could do was make sure that the house was clean, the food was prepared, and that everyone in the household was happy. Everyone, except me.
As I finished cleaning the house, I began thinking of what I would make for dinner tonight while I put my apron on. I walked into the kitchen towards the refrigerator and when I opened the door, I noticed that the main ingredients that I needed weren’t there. With a heavy sigh, I took my apron off, grabbed my purse and keys, and drove to the closest grocery store. Getting out of my car, I immediately felt the heat suffocating me. When I got inside the market, I grabbed the closest cart and headed towards the vegetables and fruit . After grabbing corn, lettuce, carrots, cherries ,peaches, oranges and other items from the produce section I headed towards the bakery. I read my list and continued checking items off one by one while getting the other necessities. I then waited at the cash register and as my turn came up, I remembered that I didn’t get apples, which was my husband’s favorite fruit. I led myself out and pushed my cart towards the apples. As I quickly parked my cart next the the huge box filled with apples, I noticed a tall, handsome, white man picking apples as well, almost filling the bag to the brim. I silently grabbed a clear bag, opened it, and began looking for the best apples from the pile. I heard noise from my left side and quickly looked up to see what was wrong. Not noticing anything I continued picking apples, but instead of an apple, I felt something warm in my hand. It was the man’s hand; we quickly apologized and looked away from each other. As I tied my bag and headed towards my cart I felt something touch my ankle. Looking down I saw an apple and quickly reached down to grab it. Again, I felt the man’s hand on top of mine and we both had a little laugh. When I looked at him, I stared into his clear blue eyes; I felt like a high school teen again at the moment. He apologized and asked for my name which I responded to by saying “I’m
Sophia.” “My name is Owen,” he replied. Owen, such a beautiful name that fit him perfectly. His personality oozed off of him and I was intrigued with him at once. Even though I met him less than ten minutes ago Owen was someone that I wanted to get to know and create a bond with.
After our first encounter we began to talk on the phone once a week to make sure nobody would get suspicious. Then, when talking wasn’t enough we began to take walks in the park while talking about our lives and what made us unhappy. It felt wonderful being able to share someone’s sadness; it made me feel like I wasn’t the only one suffering in the world with my marriage. Whenever we had those conversations I felt like the unhappiness would somehow leave me alone whenever I was near Owen. He felt like peace, comfort, and joy and I wanted more of it. Owen and I became best friends and life couldn’t get any better. Whenever I went to the grocery store and pass by the apple container, I’d reminisce our first encounter and I’d feel a deep happiness that would fill my soul.
Months passed and our bond was getting better and better. My husband and my daughters noticed a great change which kept everyone around happy. My family members were also starting to see that I was doing much better when it came to being a housewife. My friendship
with Owen was beautiful as well but I began to notice that whenever we would see each other , he wouldn’t talk as much as he used to. When I asked him what was going on, he said that he and his wife weren’t doing so well. He said that his wife wasn’t satisfied with the few luxuries that he would buy her. He feared that she would be asking for a divorce soon; they were high school sweethearts and quickly got married after they graduated from high school. I felt terrible for him and I gladly tried to comfort him as best as I could. After our encounter I went home worried and upset that his wife wasn’t happy. She was so lucky to have someone that loved her so much. Owen was always telling me stories of when they had their first and second child, his marriage proposal to her on prom night, and the day of their wedding. The more I thought about all the conversations that he and I had, the more I desired for my husband to be that way but it was already too late. I wanted to talk to Owen’s wife to make her see what a great man she had beside her.
A couple weeks passed and Owen wasn’t able to see me as much due to him going through his divorce process. It upset me to see him go through so much pain but I was more than happy and ready to be there by his side though it all. After the divorce process ended I began to see Owen more, making sure that he was eating and doing well. There were moments were he would smile and everything seemed to be alright but there also moments where he wouldn’t speak and then he would suddenly start crying. I would try bringing him some small treats and reminded him how amazing he was but it didn’t seem to work. I ended up taking him to a park to see if the scenery would cheer him up. As we sat down Owen got close to me and laid his head on my shoulder while looking at the small flowers. The silence that surrounded us kept us at peace and everything seemed okay in the world once again. When I felt that the moment was right, I opened the bag that I had and took out two apples. The apples were what brought us together. It gave us both a happiness that we needed deep down. I gave him the apple and as I took my hand away he grabbed it which made me look up to him. And as I did, I looked into his eyes and we began to get close to each other and when we couldn’t get any closer, our lips touched and we gave each other a kiss. A kiss that ignited a fire inside the both of us.