#anutyjezzywrites

[mustyrosewater]

↪ 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻 :

𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘭 

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙣𝙚 - 

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀 : 𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 30𝘴, 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘳, 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. 

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 : 4𝘬+ 

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘨��𝘦𝘤𝘵, 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴

they say that time passes in the blink of an eye, days turn to weeks, weeks turn to months, and months turn to years. this is both true and utterly wrong.  because despite the fact that it was coming up on ten years since you'd left colombia behind, all at the same time, it felt like yesterday, but also as if it had been twenty years. at first it had been hard, moving back in with your mama and papa. you wanted to be ashamed that you had finally proven them right, that you were too young and immature to move to colombia on your own, and that, eventually, you'd be returning to them in tears. while this was correct, you were all the more surprised at the fact that you were welcomed with open arms, no judgement to found, finding that they were more so just happy to have their baby girl back. as before, despite the fact that that had been nearly ten years ago, the memory still pulled at your heart strings even to this day. one of the nicer memories to string back to your departure from colombia, rather than the ones that were the bane of your existence and you avoided recalling with all of your might, the ones that only crept their way back into your head after one too many glasses of wine. memories such as crying almost every night for the first week or so of being back in san francisco, laying in bed at night, unable to sleep purely because you were kept up by the sheer terror at the idea that you'd made the wrong decision and that life was only going to continuously go ever more downhill from here. it took another year for you to move out of your parents place, despite their insistence that you were welcome to stay longer, and moved into your own small apartment. it was lonely for the first month or so, but your newly acquired job as a receptionist at the law firm just around the corner was convenient and decent money, enough to maintain and semi comfortable lifestyle, even if some dinners for a week were nothing but ramen on the weeks that your landlord decided you'd used the washing machine one too many times. even if he was a bit of scumbag, it was enough for you, nothing you couldn't handle with reminders of how much worse it could be, reminding yourself to stay grateful for what you didn't have to deal with, in comparison to what you did. it was a relative uneventful 2 year's of that same apartment, apart from a few family weddings and quince's you had to attend, as well as a promotion after a year at the law firm.  as the 80's slowly transferred into the 90's, you were pleasantly surprised to see all the changes forming around women in the workplace, suddenly, it was as if a whole new world of opportunity was available to you.  you found yourself doing something you thought was closed off to you the moment you left, only now, you were back, the world was at your fingertips. it only took you another 2 years of what could only be described as floundering, feeling nothing but numbness as you went back to the same job every day, only to go back home to an empty and quiet apartment, to decide to go to school.  never one to take the simple option, you of course opted to begin preparation for a phD. keeping your receptionist job but also taking on the occasional spanish lesson and translating job to those who needed it, already planning to begin saving money where you could.  the first two years of obtaining your masters was stressful to say the least, but you couldn't say it wasn't giving you something to occupy your time with, time that wasn't spent thinking of colombia. time spent not thinking of him. the reason you'd sworn of dating the moment you stepped foot back in san francisco, only to be even more so when you began school. never again were you going to let your heart drag you down, you'd put your foot down, tired of crying over a man who had likely forgotten who you were in the first year of your absence. from now on, your purpose was to serve yourself, and only yourself. or at least, that was the plan, a plan you'd stayed true to for the first two years, gaining your masters and even in the beginning stages of gaining your phD. contrary to the gossip sessions countless tia's held about your love life and your weakness as a hopeless romantic, your promise to only serve yourself was not broken with a romance, but rather, a friendship. hitting the magic 30 was supposed to be an experience that women dreaded, a time spent crying over red wine about the fact that they were finally starting to age. instead, you'd found it to be a liberating experience, having begun teaching only 10 months short of your 30th birthday.  it hadn't taken long for you to become friendly with most of your students, you were easy enough to talk to and most of them were pleasant to teach. despite the occasional disrespect here and there, it wasn't difficult to straighten them back up, wasting no time reminding them of the fact that were more than welcome to leave the class should they find the material uninteresting. a reminder that often shut them up. it was safe to say that it didn't take you long to fall in love with teaching, unable to hide the fact that you saw so much of yourself in your students, taking the steps that you first had when moving back here.  and while you had friendly relationship's with your students, it was inevitable before you couldn't stop yourself from intervening. alex raya was a sweet kid, filipino american with an almost always goofy attitude, but still always handed in his assignments right on time, honestly a pleasure to have in class.  it was at first hard to put in the words the dynamic that began between you two, beginning to day he'd handed in an assignment late for the first time in the 7 months you'd been teaching him. you couldn't help yourself, you wouldn't have been able to forgive yourself if you hadn't check up on him. so when you'd asked to see him after class, the expression on his poor little face broke your heart.  gone was the positive attitude that alex always brought to class, only replaced by a quiet young man who could barely even look you in the eye as he sat across from your desk. it wasn't hard for you to realize that alex raya had never experienced any form of parental concern in his entire life, because the moment you asked him if everything was ok, and he realized that you meant it, he broke down.  through his laboured breathing, he explained to you that he and his father had had a screaming match over the phone, and that his money was being cut off, and that now his landlord was demanding the rent, otherwise he was going to be kicked out.  you couldn't help but take pity on him, only getting up from your desk to give him a hesitant hug before promising him you were going to help him get this fixed.  you let him come over to your apartment for dinner that night, even if it wasn't exactly a home cooked meal, oven pizza seemed only slightly better than ramen, not that you would have known it by the way that he practically demolished the pieces he was given, only to let him finish yours when you realized how hungry the poor kid was.  not at all shy about opening up to you whatsoever, alex was more than happy to explain his situation, confiding into you practically his entire childhood. as he went on and on, detailing the emotional neglect he suffered throughout his childhood, up until leaving home to attend college, you couldn't hide the few small tears escaping your eyes. that was the night you took alex raya under your wing officially.  it wasn't hard to scrounge up enough money to save his small apartment for that week, convincing him to sell his super nintendo along with a few nice branded items, however, was much harder. from that point on, it became a regular routine of yours to go to alex's and cook him one big dinner, allowing for pre packed meals to be stored in his fridge, as well as helping him out with his schoolwork, promising you'd be able to get him by even with the missed assignment.  he'd always told he was going to pay you back one day, which you'd only reply to by shushing him and insisting that getting a job and keeping up with his schoolwork was payment enough. you even helped him get a job. the benefit of having relatives all over san francisco meant that it only took three phone calls before you were able to get him an interview at a bowling alley that your cousin owned, by that week he was a new employee.  it took hitting you 30th birthday to be able to admit to yourself that you had begun to see alex as a son. even if you were only 14 years older than him, it was enough for you to take on the role of the mother he was never able to have with ease.  he even started to jokingly call you tiya, explaining it meant 'aunty' in tagalog. you'd be lying if you said it hadn't warmed your heart to be told that, and that you had to go into the bathroom so he wouldn't see you making sure your mascara wasn't running.  it wasn't to say that your kindness wasn't repaid though, in his own little ways, alex was looking after you as well, even if not directly.  it was always the little things with alex, your own personal alarm clock as well as your reminder that it was ok to go to sleep after five hours of sitting on your couch grading papers. especially when on your 30th, you found a card on your desk signed by him wishing you a happy birthday, along with a little note on the bottom making a snarky crack about the fact that you were 'now the big three o, tiya!! live it up!!'  it now sat on your book shelf, always there to remind you of the young man you now considered a son figure.  after nearly a year, you even decided to take him to one of your family dinners where everybody, cousins, nieces, tia's, everybody, met up for a big feast. not only was he welcome, he was welcomed with open arms, and by the end of the night was considered a part of your family, especially after the right of passage when all of your little cousins were practically climbing him and giggling away. it was honestly safe to say that being able to support and care for somebody else for the first time in nearly five years had brought meaning back into your life.  it had been sealed when three months prior, you had seen on your television set that pablo escobar had finally died, killed and his body displayed for all to see in the polaroids that found there ways to the wrong place. one particular polaroid stood out to you, because staring back at you, smiling into the camera while holding up pablo's dead body by the sleeve of his shirt, was steve murphy.  you couldn't exactly say you and steve murphy had ever held more than two minute conversation in the past, but seeing his face was more than enough to have you rushing to turn off the tv and placing your head in your hands as memories came flooding back like a tidal wave from hell, washing emotions of all different kinds over you.  as if he were your guardian angel, it was by sheer coincidence that nearly 15 minutes into what you realized was nothing short of a minor breakdown, alex arrived for for weekly dinner, only to see you on the couch shaking and breathing rapidly.  if somebody were to have seen the way in which he'd rushed to your aid, pulling you into his arms and rapidly asking you what was wrong with desperate panic lacing his voice, they'd be able to say that the strong emotional ties you'd developed to the boy were well and truly mutual.  in the same way he'd opened up to you a year before, it was your turn to open up about your life prior to being his teacher.  you'd kept a skillful veil up, hiding the parts of your life which you desperately wanted to remain unknown. so much so that almost nobody but your close family knew of your time in colombia, living in the middle of a drug war, and how you'd returned to the states in order to change that.  you spared any all details about him, not even wanting speak his name as you told your story as if he hadn't existed in the first place, owing your sudden move from colombia to the sudden intensity of the drug war and how you feared for your life.  you even showed in polaroids you'd kept in a journal, smiling softly through your slowing breaths and you pointed to a photo of you and your boss outside the bodega you'd worked at, both of you grinning. in an odd way, it felt weird looking back at photos of yourself when you were alex's age, especially considering the fact that it felt like barely any time had passed, when in reality, it had been 6 or 7 years since you'd left colombia at that stage.  just as you were starting to calm down, alex turned the page, only to reveal a photo that made your heart sink to the ground as memories, just as they had previously, hit you like a speeding train. -  "what are you doing." javi's deep voice broke the silence that had previously been looming in his lounge as he sat there nursing a cigarette in his mouth and intently reading a file, not bothering to look up at you as you stood up, reaching into your bag sitting beside the door. "nothing. hold still." you ordered, pulling your polaroid camera out of it's case as you pulled the strap over your head and rested it at your neck.  he still didn't look up, doing as promised as you held the camera up to your eye, trying to angle the shot as best as you could, even with the orange light of the sunrise shone through the windows. it was only when the camera flashed that he finally looked up, not in alarm, but more so in amusement as you grinned, grabbing the polaroid as it zipped out of the small opening at the front. placing the camera and the polaroid down on the table, you sat beside javi, leaning your head against his shoulder and kissing his golden skin softly as he closed the file and threw it onto the table. -  you weren't surprised when alex asked who the guy in the picture was, the one looking intently at a file while a cigarette hung from his mouth. you wouldn't have expected any less from alex, hell, you probably would have asked too. after nearly 7 years of being fine, not letting yourself be reminded of what you'd left behind and the reason you had to do so, and now, all it took was one news report and a polaroid to have you crashing back down.  not able to reply for the first few seconds, only staring down at the photo before alex called you back into reality, asking if you were ok. of course your response was to take the photo album off of your hands and slam it closed, practically throwing it on the other end of the couch as if it were a hot plate, only to calmly take a breath, quietly informing alex that the man in the picture was 'nobody.'  there was no doubt in your mind that alex didn't believe you, you could tell by the look on his face, you'd grown to be able to read his face like a children's book, always knowing if something was wrong or if he was lying about something. you hadn't even thought about the fact that he'd very likely grown to be able to read you in the same way.  this was the same reason as to why he dropped the subject entirely, pressing it further wasn't going to help you and he knew that.  that was the only slip up you'd had regarding your past, since then, you'd managed to keep your past fully concealed. even if it wasn't a particularly malicious secret, it was more so treated in the sense that it was not something you wanted to relive, and having had enough experience with the way gossip spreads in the teachers lounge, you knew you would never live it down should it get out. you would forever be known as the student teacher who had her heart broken so she fled colombia to avoid the shame. that wasn't who you wanted to be, you'd fled so that you could live a life without javier peña and you'd been doing so successfully. you were no longer the silly 22 year old girl who let her heart dictate her life and allow some stupid little man to ruin it all for her. you were a fucking career woman as far as you were concerned, there was no more room in your life for that anymore, and you were going to try your damnedest to keep it that way. no more will you allow yourself to fall to the whim's of a little girls failed attempt at playing house with somebody who couldn't even have the balls to admit you were nothing more than a booty call. -  with nearly two more years passing, you were growing closer to finally getting your phD, you and alex had only grown closer, especially now that he was happily living with a girlfriend and had become manager at the bowling alley. though you still continued your weekly dinners, he was still your student after all.  it was no more than a month after your 32nd birthday, standing by the counter in the teachers lounge, stirring the coffee in your mug, staring down as the dark brown colour faded to a light brown as you mixed your milk into it.  already suffering from limited sleep due to the fact that your neighbours had decided to have yet another screaming match until the ungodly hour of 3:30 in the morning, you were dealing with forcing yourself to smile and nod along as your coworker was already talking your ear off.  "so basically, i told him if he was going to talk to me like that, there was a perfectly good couch for him to sleep on tonight." she continued ranting about her on and off boyfriend, somehow unable to tell that you were barely paying attention, only just nodding on as she kept on going. she was nice, you could give her that, but it was once again just stark different between 25 and 32 that the two of you were stuck with. you hoped to god to weren't like that with the other teachers when you first started, but there was really no way to know for sure. admittedly, your lack of sleep was not only due to next doors argument, but also because you were already having trouble sleeping anyway.  it was coming up to be 10 years since you'd left colombia, an anniversary that left you with so many mixed feelings, one part was a sickening feeling in your stomach as you remembered everything to do with the drug wars, bodies on the news and other horrifying things even to this day were in your dreams to haunt you. but then there was also the emotion and memories connected to colombia, hell, the reason you almost wanted to go back a year after escobar was killed, but stopped yourself just as you were looking up the prices of tickets, deciding it was best to quit while you were ahead. you couldn't say the beginning of your morning had been all bad. the moment it hit 7 am, your phone went off, only to see an unknown number, and when you answered, you had to stop yourself from tearing up when you heard the oh so familiar voice of your old boss greeting you with the ever classic "hola miha! long time no talk aye?"  in an instant, it was as if you had never left, that you were 23 all over again and back in that crummy little bodega to sell cheap cigarettes and cans of baby formula that were far too expensive to connie. now completely in his early 70s, his nephew was now running the bodega, while he once again was keeping to his telenovela's, as per usual, explaining that he'd found your number after recognising your name in the phone book and deciding to give you a call. the two of you talked for at least a solid 45 minutes, ended with you promising you were going to call him again but that you had a class in 40 minutes and that you really needed to go. as if nothing had changed, he teased you about your teaching position, before wishing you all the best and hanging up.  your old boss' call had brought a sad smile to your face, but all at once, had also brought a horrifying thought that invaded your head before you could even think.  'should you dare ask about him the next time you talk to your boss?'  there was no doubt in your mind that he never went to that bodega again after you left. he wouldn't have been able to resist those cheap cigarettes. resisting the urge to slap yourself so as to not look like a manic should somebody walk in, you instead shook your head a bit and reminded yourself in your head of the promises you'd made to yourself years previously, reminding yourself that you were far, far better than this. even ten years later, you were better than the girl you were back in colombia. you deserved better.  - having well and truly calmed yourself down, you left the teachers lounge and began the path down the winding hallways towards your classroom, you shoes clicking along the floor as you struggled to look for your keys under the big pile of files that you were holding in your hand.  hearing footsteps behind you, you didn't look up from your bag as you quickly recognised the voice of your coworker behind you calling you by your last name, a form of teacher's lingo that you'd just grown to accept, already beginning to talk to you as you continued to walk up the stairs to the classroom.  "i've got a guest speaker with me who spoke at my criminology lecture yesterday, and i was thinking they should speak for criminal psychology as well yknow? that could be real good for your students."  only nodding your head, you reached the top of the stairs, still not turning around. "uh, yeah sure, they need a break from my lectures anyway, send them my way for this lesson." finally reaching your door, you found your keys and began to unlock the door, pushing it open and walking, only to be followed in by your coworker, who smiled brightly.  "that's awesome, i think he's just getting a coffee last i saw him. you'll love him." nodding, you began to organise the files on your desk hurriedly, knowing that you were already running a bit behind due to your boss' phone call.  "i'm sure we'll get along fine." you sighed, still not 100% paying attention to the conversation. "well i mean, your colombian right? yknow ca-" "i'm not colombian, i use to live there." ignoring the part about the fact that he'd somehow found out you had any sort of association with colombia, too tired and somewhat stressed to care right that second.  "he was in colombia for awhile too, during the drug wars and stuff! he was a dea agent."  in that very moment, it was as if time slowed down, your surroundings started to disappear and the files in your hands flowed out onto the desk, as if your hands faded out of existence. nothing in your mind was happening except pure, white hot panic. turning around slowly, trying to gather yourself, you took in a deep breathe. praying oh so desperately that it was anybody but who you were terrified that was. hell, at this point, you'd take steve murphy, just, please, please, please. don't let it be him.  "what was his name.." 

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