The Secret Life of Daydreams (7 page)

But the emotion in his eyes filled in the spaces left by the voids of what he couldn’t tell, and when she tried to add her own understanding, the effort fell short and vacant. There was more to Josh’s story, to what had made him the person he was now, not the happy extrovert missionary with whom she had associated eleven years prior. The changes ran too deep, despite the rock-wall façade he was hiding behind, and her curiosity itched to scratch the thin veneer to discover what made the true man.

She paused by the sliding door to the living room balcony. Josh had been married before. Sofia let the idea sink in her mind for a moment. He had loved another woman, given his heart to her, even if she’d broken it in the end.

The power of a first love was a tremendous force, one not easily forgotten. The unease swirled in her chest. It surprised Sofia to recognize it for what it was, a tingle of jealousy. She didn’t have any right to feel that way as she and Josh didn’t have the kind of relationship to warrant it. But pushing the feeling away proved harder than she wanted.

In her bedroom, after she changed, and with the blankets pulled up, Sofia sat in her bed with her journal in her lap. When was the last time she had written anything? The littlest prickles of guilt nibbling at the edge of her consciousness were swiftly swept away. No time to dwell on should-haves, or playing catch-up. She pulled her favorite pen from the bedside table and wrote, and wrote, and wrote.

Rain again.

Josh couldn’t remember that it had ever rained so much in the spring when he’d been a missionary eleven years ago. In the past two days, there had been what he called wishy-washy weather, with light rain interrupted by weak sunlight, and medium-gray clouds in a sky of anemic blue. He’d been able to do some outdoor work and take external shots of several landmarks and buildings, including the high school where Sofia worked. He’d leave the interior photos for another day.

Now the weather had turned back to heavy black clouds and sunless skies. If it didn’t get better by the weekend, Josh would have to prolong his trip. What he wanted was a valid reason to stay longer in Braga, and after researching the interest and marketability for a project of this kind, he’d mapped a plan for a travel blog of the Minho region. It so happened that Braga was the district’s capital, which suited him just fine.

By evening, Josh had the idea fully developed and was ready to give it half of his time. After checking his planner, he decided he could accommodate both projects with little changes to his schedule and he made a list of what needed to be done to implement the new plan. First, find a weekly hotel where he could save some money.

He called around and within two hours, he had packed, moved, and unpacked in the new room. He showered and changed, then drove to Paulo and Margarida’s, who had invited him for dinner. Even though Josh and Paulo had maintained sporadic contact through the years since their mission days, he was enjoying getting reacquainted with him and meeting his wife. Their baby was adorable and she reminded Josh of his young nieces.

When he arrived at the apartment, Paulo led him to the living room sofa.

“Margarida is putting Amélia to bed. Do you mind waiting a few minutes for dinner?”

“Waiting’s fine.” Josh leaned forward. “Does it always rain like this in May?”

Paulo shook his head. “It’s been crazy weather. April does have the reputation of being extra wet, but it usually lets up in May.” He pulled his cell phone out. “Just earlier today I saw all these news reports about floods.” He tapped on the screen for a few seconds then handed it over to Josh.

Josh read the headlines. “It doesn’t look good.” He passed the phone back to Paulo. “I was trying to remember how wet the weather was on my mission.”

“Nothing like this, I can tell you that.”

Margarida entered the room and greeted Josh, then sat next to Paulo. “She’s finally asleep.”

Paulo smiled. “Good. Should we get started?”

She rose. “Help me move the table settings to the dinner table. We’ll have more room.”

“I think we have enough room for the three of us.” Paulo followed her into the kitchen.

Margarida walked back in the living room and laid a tablecloth on the table. “We need another place setting. Sofia is coming to join us.”

Sofia was coming.

His heart soared at the anticipation of seeing her, and Josh quickly brought his feelings down to a level of mundane management, fixing his attention on watching Paulo and his wife.

Paulo brought in the glasses and set them down. “I thought she was coming tomorrow night.”

“Well, it worked out better that she came today.” Margarida carried in a pitcher of water and then turned back to the kitchen. “She should be here any minute.”

It was like a choreographed dance they did as Paulo and Margarida wove in and out between the two rooms to bring the place settings and the food. He’d offered to help but Margarida had shooed him away.

Josh stood by the sofa, paying more attention to Sofia’s impending arrival than the dinner on the table. He hadn’t seen her in a few days, since changing the battery on her car and having dinner with her. His resolve to minimize his contact with Sofia yo-yoed according to his mood and although he’d resisted sending her a text the next day, he’d still spent more awake minutes thinking of her than he had the right to. He’d only just met her again and already she owned his thoughts. As for his dreams, they’d never stood a chance.

When the doorbell rang, Paulo hurried to the foyer and soon returned with Sofia. She started that greeting ritual the Portuguese did when they met a group of friends, of going around the room and saying
olá
and brushing a little kiss on each cheek. As a missionary, that type of interaction with the opposite gender was against the rules and he’d never had to worry about the mechanics of it.

But now here he was, not knowing how to do it. Before Sofia got to him, Josh thrust his hands in his pockets and stood rooted in his spot. She placed a light hand on his upper arm and went on her tiptoes, repeating the gesture as she had done with Margarida and Paulo. Josh didn’t dare move, as he feared he’d mess it up, not being used to that kind of greeting. With his thick beard in the way, the contact was swift and barely-there, accompanied by that floral scent she wore, growing more and more appealing with each time he met her.

Maybe he could get used to the Portuguese
beijinhos
after all.

* * *

Sofia glanced at the wall clock. Ten more minutes until the exit bell rang.

She turned to the white board and wrote
False Friends
one more time. Except for a few students, this class of seventh graders struggled with new concepts, even after two and a half terms of time in class.

“False Friends is a phrase that refers to words that look similar in English and Portuguese but have different meanings.” The usual suspects engaged in alternative activities. No matter how often she moved them around to other desks, they still managed to get themselves in trouble. “Who can give me an example?”

Fridays were the hardest day of the week. The students’ anticipation for the upcoming weekend had been mounting since Monday and their behavior reflected that. It didn’t help that it was also the last hour of the day, and hardly worth enforcing discipline with a few minutes left in class. Choose your battles and all that.

Sara, in the first row, raised her hand. “Library?”

“That’s correct, Sara.” Sofia wrote the word on the board. “Library in English means the place where you go to borrow books but the word
livraria
in Portuguese is the place where you buy books.” She added the second word. “Even though at first glance the words look like they mean the same, they actually have opposite meanings.”

The bell rang and the students scrambled to leave the classroom, barely looking back at her when she said goodbye. Sofia sighed. Her relief was as tangible as theirs. When had teaching become such a chore? The noble intentions she’d brought to her first year of teaching had worn away to a neutral contentment, the kind she’d promised herself not to have. Teenagers were not an easy age group to deal with on a daily basis, but lately even her small efforts seemed wasted.

Sofia walked to the teachers’ lounge. Maybe she could attend a teachers’ workshop this summer, if she could find the time. Only a few more weeks before school let out and hopefully she’d be able to arrange her schedule to accommodate everything clamoring for her attention.

Why had she agreed to help Josh with yet another project? The school project had sort of fallen in her lap that first day when he came for the tour. She’d become his contact there to answer his research questions and show him the rooms where he needed to photograph. That was a project she enjoyed, and she was happy to help Josh at the school.

But this was a new job, one that Josh had chosen to start since the weather had delayed his other work. When he’d explained his plan to start a blog travel series about the region of Minho, she’d been intrigued with his ideas for it, just as Paulo and Margarida had. She liked his passion for photography and his interest in the region. Even though she didn’t agree with Josh’s nomadic lifestyle, she admired his spirit of adventure and the enthusiasm he had for the way he lived. What price he’d had to pay for it, she could only wonder. But it wasn’t up to her to judge him for his choices.

She gathered her papers and placed them in her bag, then left the school. Traffic was slow on the way home, allowing her time to reflect about the dinner at Margarida’s the day before. Josh had talked about the places where he wanted to go for the theme of his blog, and soon both Margarida and Paulo had told Josh how Sofia had the inside knowledge to assist him from her experience as a part-time tourist guide. He’d turned to look at her, not really saying anything, but with the obvious question in his eyes.

And before long, Sofia had found herself recounting her experience and sharing advice, his full attention on her while she promised to help in anything he needed. In the end, the choice was all hers, and nobody had pressured her into assisting Josh. She had yet to decide for herself whether her weakness for the blue of his eyes was to blame, or her eagerness to see him smile at her like what she did was important. How was she supposed to say no to Josh? She wouldn’t have been able to, even if she wanted. The teenage crush had been resuscitated in full force, in spite of her efforts, which in truth hadn’t been that strong to begin with. The prospect of spending more time with Josh both thrilled and scared her.

When Sofia arrived at home, the fatigue overwhelmed her and she sat down on the living room sofa. Josh would be calling later so they could coordinate their schedules for the first outing. She retrieved her cell phone from her purse and placed it on the coffee table.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

“Mãe?”

Only silence in reply. She stood and walked to Mother’s room. It was empty. She checked the bathroom, which was also empty. The squeeze in her chest grew as she walked through the rest of the apartment and didn’t find Mother.

By the time she knocked on Dona Luísa’s door, her concern had transformed to panic.

“Is my mother here?”

Dona Luísa knit her eyebrows. “No, she isn’t. I checked on her half an hour ago and she was sleeping.”

“She’s gone. I can’t find her anywhere.” Sofia ran back to her apartment and grabbed her keys, ready to start searching the building.

Her cell phone rang, and she answered, barely glancing down at the caller ID.

“Olá, Sofia. It’s Josh.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Josh, but this is a really bad time. Can I call you back, please?”

His voice turned from playful to serious. “Yes, of course. Can I help with anything?”

“My mother is missing. I’m leaving now to go look for her.”

“Okay, I won’t keep you then. Good luck with your search.”

Sofia hung up and pocketed her phone. She stopped to think of possible places where mother could be. Then she knelt by the sofa and said a prayer.

The building where she lived had six stories and three apartments per floor. She took the stairs and walked up to the top floor. This was the fastest way for looking in the building while asking her neighbors if they’d seen her. Within twenty minutes, she arrived at the ground floor and sat on the bottom steps, opposite the elevator. Two of the neighbors hadn’t answered the door and the rest hadn’t seen mother.