La Viuda

[Jacksblackpearl]

It's early morning around eight o'clock.
I'm busy, keeping myself busy. I can't sit still now. It's been six weeks. I've done nothing for about six weeks. I wept, mourned.. I can''t go on like this anymore,it's enough.

He left me. He left me, just like that. What was he thinking ? That I could manage without him? Manage without my heart? Did he ever think about me when he was dying there? Did he think about how I would feel when I'd see his dead body? when I felt his cold hands?

I know I'm not allowed to think like that, I won't allow myself to think that way. Marcello cared for me, for me alone. I meant everything to him and I knew it. I knew it so well. He became a sailor to keep the roof over our heads, to provide the food on our table. Weeks he was gone on business trips and the days that he was back in town were so meaningful. We looked after eachother, cuddle and caressed eachother like we'd never have nights and days like that anymore. We made passionate love to eachother, as if we were still newly weds.

"maldecirlo Marcello" I mumble as I look at some things in a box. They are Marcello's things, I started cleaning out the closets. It's time to ban every memory I ever had of him. How else am I supposed to go on ? I can't, not like this, not in a house full of memories, not in house that has his scent to it, not in the house where his things are still.
As hard as it is I close the box and I start with the second. Marcello never had many things here, he wasn't that materialistic, but the things he did have meant ten times as much to him then anything else.
I open up the cabinet next to his side of the bed. The first thing I notice is a dried flower, a rose. I stare at it and know this rose too damm well. I wore this in my hair the day we got married. He kept it ever since. He said it would remind him of the day of his new life "I want to remind myself of this day, the day I start a new life with nothing but happiness. I want to be reminded of you no matter what"
I lay the rose down in the box and then I burst into weeping. I can't stop the tears from coming. "Porque Marcello?! PORQUE!!?" I burry my face in my hands and cry.
Since my tears don't stop from coming I continue packing Marcello's stuff into the box. With every memory I lay inside the box I feel like there's pieces of my heart dying and going into the box aswell.
Will I ever get over this ? For crying out loud he was my everything ! He got ripped out of my life just like Juan. I thought giving up a child was enough pain, enough to bare for one person. Why did He take him away from me ? What kind of a Dios is He ?

It takes me a good couple of hours before I have Marcello's stuff together. I go to the hallway where I take my large scarf and I put it around my shoulders. I walk back to the bedroom when I take the first box. It's heavy, and the first out of three. It feels as if all the emotional set backs have effected me physically aswell. With a lot of hard work I manage to get the box outside. I close the door and look out side.
Strangely enough the wether is once again perfectly here in Valencia. It only makes me more sad.
I stare at the sky, as if talking to Dios directly 'Estoy estando de luto, doy vuelta apagado al sol, por favor" I almost beg..

However, of course I don't get an answer. If I want an answer I should go to church, I know that. After getting rid of Marcello's things I'll go to church. To ask forgiveness..
I clench my teeth together and start to pick up the box again. The heavy-ness makes me wobble down my fronthouse-path a little and with a bit of effort I manage to get out onto the street.

(wooot spanish rocks ;p geen idee of alles klopt but I'll translate it for you the way dictionairy.com did for me '
maldecirlo= damn it
Dios = God
porque = why
'Estoy estando de luto, doy vuelta apagado al sol, por favor = I'm mourning, turn off the sun, please )

[Jacky]

~Eight months earlier~

The streets of Nassau laid low. Rain was beating down on the narrow alleyways, without a single hint of redemption. Nobody should go out in this weather. But it had been a bad few weeks already, and a number of men didn’t have the choice nor patience to wait much longer. There were always a few brave souls –fools or not- that were willing to challenge the high seas at times like these. Come wind or high water. And Jack Sparrow had found ‘em.

A tough crew brave enough to face even the upcoming storms. Experienced enough to make the 6 month passage to the continent. And daft enough to suit the young sailor’s liking. A worthy set of gentlemen, as captain Johnson would have to agree.

A flicker of gold reflected in the night as Jack grinned. The rain beated down hard but he didn’t care. His heart was beating twice as hard with excitement, and it raised his spirits to dazzling height. Finally, he’d be sailing again. He stepped onto the muddy docks and admired the ship, its silouette pitchblack against the sky.

First mate on the Black Pearl. The words echoed in his mind and the grin grew larger on his face. No more than six years ago he was just following footsteps that were laid out for him. But leaving the East Indian Trading Company was the best thing he could ever have done. He had changed a lot since he’d been that sixteen year old... a lot. He had learnt to live on the streets. He learnt from the thieves, the panhandlers, the liars, murderers and wenches on every corner. And he had loved them all. He knew he had found his home. He was born on the wrong side of the wrong. Moreover, he was born a sailor, a *pirate*. And the young Jack was ambitious to let the world know that he was the best pirate that would ever roam the seas. No longer would he ship cargo around the globe. He was fed up with the spices, the rich fabrics, the products of exotic nature that the Company desired.. He left all this certaincy that 'respectable' life provided behind for a ship under his feet and the sky as his limit. Adventure. Living by his own rules. And the ocean's rules.

Sure as the tide he had *changed*. His hair had grown longer and dreaded. The innocence on his face made place for a roguish mischief. And his voyages each left its mark. A dangle in his hair. A coin hanging from the fiercily red bandana. The comical goatee, braided and beaded, that was one of his stock-in-trades. And his eyes.. those eyes that used to be dull with boredom, now burned like the very pits of hell. Lined with black, like a wh0re's, only prettier. Deep and mysterious enough to drown any woman.
He was by no means the lad that said his prayers every night anymore. With his 21 years of age, he was a man. A pirate. And he would never want it differently.

With a c.ocky swagger in his step he put foot on the Black Pearl. Her sails rustled in the wind, whispering, and lulling him to a state of melancholy. He loved every timbre of this ship. And he'd bring her to Spain safe and sound. "See that I will." He smiled at the pitchblack night..

~Eight months later~
"Jack." Safe for Sparrow, and the man by the door, the crews quarters were empty. The rest of the men were updecks, playing liars dice of shooting craps. About half of them working their shifts. They would make port soon, after all. Before noon. And after a long and tough journey the men were eager to go ashore.

Jack rose from his hammock, putting aside the map he'd been looking at. "Capt'n." he greeted the man by the door, "Good ter see yer alive an' well again." Captain Johnson had been stuck by the flu the past month or so - leaving Jack in charge. He had taken it well. He had learned.

The captain nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. "Ye did a good job, mate." he said. "No soul coul've handled it better than ye have."

A grin from Jack. "Aye sir."

"You've been workin' hard, lad."

"It's me job." He shrugged his shoulders.

"But you did it." The captain gestured at the door, from where the faint noises of labour aboard the ship could be heard. "We'll get t' Valencia soon enough. After ye did yer job durin' the harbouring, take a day or two off. I'm gonna cut me crew some slack. No one'll say I'm an ungrateful fellow."

Jack smirked. "Certainly not." He tapped his hat as a salute and watched his captain leave.


When he got to the market later that day he was actually glad to have left the ship. It was crowed in town. Mothers dragged their offspring along from stand to stand. The salesmen were shouting at the top of their lungs. Somewhere two men argued over the price of a goat. But in spite of this bustling activity, he could feel all their eyes on him. There he was, a pirate in a respectable port. But their gazes couldn't accuse him and he stared them down with ease when he caught each glance. Continuing his way, he unnoticedly stole an orange from a stand and swaggered down the road.

The market was soon left behind. He observed his surroundings, looking at the colorful fences and white houses that were lined up on each side of the road. He pressed his thumb through the peel of the orange and tore it open, having a piece.

Then he saw her.
And his gaze stayed on her.
She went back inside and he strolled to the fence in front of her house, leaning against it as he eyed the door that was left open. When she came outside again with a large box in her arms that she seemed to have trouble with, his lips twisted into a smile.

"¿Debe ayudar usted, señora?" He asked, in a flawless Spanish accent. Do you need help, miss?

[Jacksblackpearl]

(very nice post :hug2: )

As I was trying to get the second box outside the house I hear an unfamiliar spanish voice asking me wether I need help. I look up from behind the box and I meet the gaze of man. A man who looks self-insured and brave and wise, but his face and eyes showed that he wasn't an old wise men.
Early twenties is what I would give him. Strangely enough the sight of this young man at my fence made me travel back in time, as a memory dwelled up.

"Enola,venido abajo. Come downstairs.
My mother called me from out of my room and I did as I was told. walking down the stairs I had a feeling of excitement in me. Earlier that day there had come a letter, for my father. A letter from Mr. De la Vega senior, on behalf of his son. My father told me about this letter and it's contents.

~Ha venido a mi ojo que tienes una hija joven de quien he oído siga siendo una mujer soltera. Mi hijo ahora es 20 y alista para hacer un marido dedicado. ¿Podríamos discutir esta materia? saludos, señor Del la Vega.

It has come to my eye that you have a young daughter of whom I've heard is still an unmarried woman. My son is 20 now and ready to become a dedicated husband. Could we discuss this matter?
greetings, mister Del la Vega.

A weddingproposal, from a young man. My parents knew the Del la Vega's pretty well. The family was middle class aswell, real honost and good workers. I had seen their son a couple of times, on the mercado (market). He was a fine young man, even handsome if I would have to tell the truth. And now his father had come over to discuss this matter indeed. My marriage was the subject of the night.

I came downstairs dressed in a perfectly white neat dress. My mother had intended for me to wear this. I had to make a good impression,otherwise noone would want to marry me, specially not a fine son from the Del la Vega's.
As I came into the room I met his gaze. Beautiful dark eyes, half-long dark brown hair and an unexpected smile that could light up the sky. I was in love, it was love at first sight, as rare as that happened in marriages like these.
We shook eachothers hands and introduced ourselves 'Enola la Perez' "Marcello Del la Vega, agradable satisfacerte ~Nice to meet you~
I smiled at him and sat down at the table, where our marriage was discussed. Everyone accepted the proposal and Marcello and I would get to know eachother better once we'd live together. Our parents started looking for a house immediatly and before we moved in properly we were married. Before I knew it I was living together with the man of my dreams, my first and only love. My husband meant everything to me since the day I met him. We had no secrets for eachother, behind closed doors we were open to eachother, talked about a lot of things and showed eachother just exactly what and how we felt, about eachother and about everything else. We were buddies, best mates but also passionate lovers and resposible grown-ups.
Everyone wanted to be us or be with us..


It takes me a good couple of seconds to stop thinking about Marcello. This man may resemble a bit of him but I will get that more often. I have to stop thinking about these painful yet sweet memories.
I put the box down, right next to the other box and I look back at the man 'Si, por favor" I accepted the help and I gave him a small smile 'You speak english?" I ask him right after. I noticed his spanish was with some kind of accent, somewhat of an english accent. I know because Marcello spoke english on his voyages, he taught me some aswell...

[Jacky]

I shove the orange down the deep pocket of my coat, walking from the fence onto the path that leads to the door of her house. "Entre otros idiomas, si." I tell her. Among other languages. I give the woman a grin - gold toothed and roguish. "I get around." I tell her, in English this time.

The first thing I notice about her from this close is the darkness of her eyes. Like any Spanish woman, only these are filled with a particular .. bitterness. As if she's got the whole world to be mad at. Every man and every woman to be sad about. That, together with the tired smile that she conjures to her features. I bet she'd be pretty as hell if she'd smile.

[Jacksblackpearl]

As the man comes closer I notice that his looks start to improve. From up close he's even more roguish and handsome then I thought at first. He'd be my type.. if it wasn't for Marcello..
él e muerto, Enola he's dead, I remind myself.
I sigh a little of the thought of my deceiced husband but I try not to let this young man see my pain. I've grieved for six weeks now, I shouldn't make everyone around me sad because I am sad aswell. It is just not fair.
"Are you a sailor?" I ask him 'un hombre del mar?" a man of the sea?.
As I wait for his answer I glance at his features and I only become more swooning the longer I look at this man I notice.
It's not something I'd do.. at least I don't think so.. but afterall I had been married for ten years, I was a young unexperienced girl when I married Marcello, ten years later I am a grown woman with a mind of my own, I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised by the fact that I look at other men aswell..I need to look after myself now, I can't live in the past, though somehow I will have to tell myself that many many times before I will actually believe it.

[Jacky]

"En corazón y alma." With all me heart and soul. I give her a charming grin, estimating that with a little luck I could win this lass over. She seems impressed. And that's definately a good start. I take of my hat and make a small, almost comical bow. "Jack Sparrow, agradable encontrarle." I introduce myself. "And you are?" With a boyish twinkle in my eye I take a hold of her hand, and brush a kiss on her knuckles.

She's older than I am. At least I estimate her somewhere near her thirties. But she's a rare beauty, and I honestly wouldn't care less if she was near her nineties instead. Her eyes, so dark and so pure, seem to hold a story I'm more than eager to investigate. Her lips twist into a little smile, and I grin in return.

It seems like I found a woman to my liking. And aye.. when my eye falls on such a beauty, I won't avert it anymore.

[Jacksblackpearl]

"Enola De la Vega' I introduce myself, and it makes me think for a while. I'm not a De la Vega anymore officially.. how should I be calling myself from now on ? Widow De la Vega? ..that is not what I had in mind. Maybe this boy doesn't need to know my background story. He is afterall just helping me with moving my husbands things.
"The boxes, have to go' I explain, not wanting to stare at his handsome face any longer. I can't drown in those eyes right now. I have no right to do so, Im Marcello's and I always will be his.
hasta muerte hacernos parte untill death do us part Enola..

[Jacky]

I flash her another quick grin. "Ningún problema." I tell her. I crouch and pick up the box, lifting it from the ground. It's bloody heavy, which betrays how stuffed with stuff they are. But they're not too heavy to carry, and I glance down to where the other box is standing on the sidewalk. "¿Con el otro?" I ask her whether I should put it with the other.

I take the steps from the veranda down to the path again, assuming so. And when I put it against the other I can't keep myself from peeking at the goods that are laying in it.

Men's clothing. A pair of shoes. A whole load of books and something that looks like navigation equipment. That's what I see in a first glance. As I walk back over the path I look over to Enola De la Vega; "¿Quién sale?" I inquire. Who's leaving? It might be none of my business, but you can't blame a man for his curiosity.

[Jacksblackpearl]

I look at Jack and gulp. I did not expect this question so soon.
I look down and shrug a little, finding this pretty hard to say afterall. In the past couple of weeks I haven't really talked to anyone about this. Neighbours have grieved with me, aswell as Marcello's father. I've written letters to my brother about what had happened but I've never actually had to explain my situation yet, since everyone in town knew about it.

"my husband' I answer with a soft voice, almost a whisper 'he died..' I look up at Jack and wish I didn't tell him. He seemed like a perfect stranger who could have cheared me up a little. Now he sees me as the weeping widow aswell.. I don't want that

[Jacky]

Ah. So that explains the sadness of her smile. "Siento." I tell her. I'm sorry.

Though, quite frankly, that's a lie. How can I be sorry for a woman I hardly even know? How can I be sorry 'bout a man deceased who'd only be in me way if he was still among the living? I am not in the least 'sorry'. And my plan did not change.. why turn your back on a woman who looks like she could use the comfort, or even the loving, even if it's just for one night?

No one can say I'm a selfish man here. I'm more than willing to offer her a night to forget 'bout the world.
If she'd let me.

"Hay más cajas?" I ask, a little more careful though. Are there more boxes?