Love Knows No Bounds
Maria slowly pushed open the door to the thrift shop, her favourite one in Madrid. The shop is on one of the streets coming off of Gran Vía, or maybe one coming off of them. She’s never entirely sure of how to find it, it just always seems to appear in front of her when she least expects it. Her entrance into the shop is announced by a light tinkling of the bell, and she exchanges a quick “hola” with the older lady behind the counter. Walking towards the clothes racks, she caught a glimpse of herself in a chipped vintage mirror. Some hair had fallen out of her bun, probably when she was running for the train, so she tucked her sleek black hair behind her ear.
One of the things María loved most about this shop was the fact that you could buy almost anything, for a very reasonable price. Her favourite clothes rack was the faux (she hopes) fur coat one, and as she walked along she would stroke each one, pick out the softest and try it on. Yes, even in the middle of summer. It made María feel like she had stepped off the Orient Express in the 1920s. All she needed was some pearls and a cigarette holder. María continued wandering through the aisles, feeling the different textures of the clothing and flicking through the vinyl records. Unexpectedly, she came across the latest Rosalía album. What was that doing in a thrift shop? She bookmarked that in her mind to come back to after finding her next book.
Finally. She rounded the corner and was faced with floor-to-ceiling shelves of books – María was in her happy place. Not wanting to seem too weird, despite there being no one else in the shop, she struggled to suppress the smile that was creeping onto her face. She’d always been a bit of a bookworm and was proud of it. She had bought so many books from this shop in the past 2 years that, at this point, she didn’t even bother trying to choose. María placed a finger on the spine of a faded red book that was just in front of her, and walked along the row, softly grazing the books as she went. She wanted a book to call out to her. She seemed to hesitate on a thinner book with yellowing pages, so she pulled it out, hoping her method hadn’t failed her.
It was García Lorca’s ‘Bodas de Sangre.’ (Blood Wedding) María couldn’t believe her luck. The book was stunningly old, and opening the cover she realised it was one of the first editions of the text ever published! Lorca is such a famous Spanish author that this play she was holding in her hands, published over 80 years ago, is easily worth over €1000. How is it in this shop? María looked around, thinking that she was being pranked, or at the very least expected someone to scream at her for touching it. But none of that happened. María was too intrigued to just put it away, so she started flicking through. It was so different to anything she had read before, and it had a smell like it hadn’t been opened for many years. Suddenly, a yellowing black and white photo fell out of the pages, landing at her feet.
María bent down to pick up the picture and saw two people at the centre, standing in front of sprawling fields. They were clearly a couple, María thought, from the way the man had his arm over the lady’s shoulders, but there was a distance between them that confused her. The young woman was beautiful, probably only about 19, a little bit younger than María, and the handsome man most likely the same. They weren’t looking at the camera, but seemed to be trying to sneak a glance at each other, which seemed odd. She flipped the photo around and in the top corner it was dated May 1932. The year before Lorca himself wrote the very book she was holding in her hands, what a strange coincidence. But what intrigued her the most was the slanted writing, still mostly legible, in which was written: “Quiero estar contigo, pero mis padres no me permiten. Quiero que conozcas el bebe mi amor.” (I want to be with you, but my padres aren’t letting me. I want you to meet the baby my love.)
She was pregnant? María squinted her eyes to analyse the photo again. Yes! She hadn’t noticed it before but under the girl’s dark dress was a tiny bump, and her hand looked like it was just about to touch or rest on it. Quickly, she flipped back to the writing, wanting to know more.
There were two different styles of handwriting. Confused at first, it quickly became clear to María that it was a couple talking to each other, most likely the couple from the photo. Why were they using this photo to write to each other? Were they in a forbidden relationship? Who are they? Questions began flying around María’s brain quicker than she could process them. How fitting that this photo was in a copy of ‘Bodas de Sangre’, (Blood Wedding) given that it was the story of star-crossed lovers forbidden from being together because of familial conflict! Could this be the same? María continued reading to see if she could piece anything together.
In what she could assume is the girl’s handwriting, was written, “la niña está aquí. Ven a la ventana a medianoche.” (The baby is here. Come to my window at midnight.) This was dated one month after the initial message, and then after that it seemed to be a back and forth between the pair for almost 5 months. One message read, “Mi querida Alba, ¿cómo está María? Quiero veros muy pronto.” (My dear Alba, how is María? I want to see you very soon.” What made the messages stop?
It seemed to María that this story was too good to pass up and she needed to know more, so she bought the book and rushed home to try and find out who these people were. The baby had the same name as her for crying out loud. She almost felt like she knew them, despite the fact she only knew 2 of their names and … well for now, that was about it. To be honest, she didn’t really have any clue how to find out more either. She typed the 2 names she had into an ancestry website and tried every region she could think of with a similar landscape to the picture. There was just too much uncertainty. After a couple of hours going in circles, María was resigned to the fact that she would probably never know what happened to this family, or who they even were.
To take her mind off her disappointment, María started reading the play. She obviously knew the story but actually reading it … it was incredible. Lorca portrayed the story in such a beautiful way, she felt such a deep connection to the forbidden love story that she almost forgot about the photo. She reached almost the middle of the play, and as she flipped the page gently, so as not to rip it, she was greeted with the smiling face of a baby, maybe about 3 months old. It was only a small photo, but it was enough to make her breath catch in the back of her throat. María instantly recognised the girl – she herself had looked almost identical to this as a baby. She picked up the photo and turned to see if there was anything on the back. There were only a couple of words. “Nuestra cariña.” (Our Darling) The name written below only confirmed what María had secretly known the whole time. María Gonález de la Fuente. Her grandmother.