Sunday, April 19, 2009

Part Three

The more Benji played, the more love he felt pouring from his fingers. He didn’t understand how it was happening, but he was making music. Beautiful, heaven-sent music. Wherever he was, Benji played. And wherever he played, people didn’t just listen, they clutched their hearts. Benjamin Francis Smart had discovered what his most elegantly sculpted fingers were for.

The years went by and Benji finished school. He decided he didn’t want to go on to college so he got a part time job instead. When he wasn’t working he didn’t watch tv or mow the lawn. He didn’t go out to bars or talk on the phone with friends. All Benji wanted to do after work was to play his guitar.

One day when Benji was almost 40, his sister invited him to Mexico for a vacation. Benji had never been on a vacation. Even so, he decided to go. The next day, he packed up a small bag and with his guitar on his back, was on his way.

The first few days in Mexico were almost the same as back home except they were a bit warmer. He worked a little in the house for his sister then he played his guitar. Then he’d work a little more, and play his guitar a little more, too. Benji felt as content as he always did. Then something happened.

There was a ring at the door. Benji went to answer it. “Can I help you?” He said in his broken Spanish. The girl at the door smiled. She held her arms out. They were overflowing with flowers, some Benji had never seen or smelled or even heard of before.
“Do you want to sell me flowers?” he asked.
“Diez pesos,” she said, ‘barato.”
“One second,” he said, running inside to find his money. But Benji needed more than a second. This time it was he who clutched his heart. ”Is it still there?” he said to himself in a whisper. He wasn’t sure where his heart had gone. You see, for the first time in his life, Benji had fallen in love.

Every Thursday Rosa came to deliver flowers and every Thursday after she left he could barely handle the thought of having to wait a whole other week to see her again.
“This is too much for you, Benji,” his sister said. “You better go find her.”
So he did.

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