Second Act

Chapter 7

Sol took a deep breath to steel her nerves and ascended the stairs to take Shownu his breakfast. She knocked on his door with her foot per usual, but no one answered. She set the tray of food on the cement and banged on the door loudly with the palm of her hand.

She listened at the door. "I know you're in there, cabrón!" she yelled. "Avoiding me is super childish. Just open up and get your damned food!"

Still there was no sound from within. She decided to use her key to see if he had moved out without paying. Upon entering the room, she found it to be neat and tidy. Shownu's packed bags sat close to the door.

"Well, at least he has to come back for his bags," she thought. He hadn't run off and stiffed her out of her money. She went back downstairs and grabbed a piece of paper and began to scribble out a bill. "Let's see," she said aloud. "Fifteen days at 500 pesos a day. Then we have all the extra food he ate here. Let's call that another 1,000 pesos. I bought him shampoo. So, that's another 20 pesos." She calculated in her head. "So, your ass owes me 8,520 pesos!" she declared as she wrote the total on the bill and underlined it twice. "I should charge you for pain and suffering, you two-legged rat!" she vented to the empty room.

She marched the bill up the stairs and pushed it under the door with a sense of satisfaction. "Don't mess with the bull or you'll get the horns," she threatened, although she knew Shownu was out.

"Where could he be?" she muttered. "It's not like he knows how to go anywhere," she added. She shook her head. "I'm not going to worry about him," she declared. "He's a grown-ass man. He can take care of himself."

Shownu had headed out early and taken a cab into el centro. He had no particular destination. He just needed to clear his head. And if he were perfectly honest, he was a little afraid of Sol. She was all warmth and light until you crossed her, and then she could turn icy in a heartbeat. He knew he deserved to be iced out. He had basked in her warmth, knowing full well he couldn't stay. He had given her reason to hope that he might change his mind. He put himself in her place and could understand entirely why she was angry. He was angry too. Not at her, but at life. He was leaving the place he wanted to be just to sacrifice his body and mind again to the industry that was milking the life out of him. But what could he do? He felt the pressure from all sides. Everyone wanted him back in the life he had worked so hard to attain. He sighed, aimlessly kicking a bottle cap on the sidewalk. He felt a drop of rain fall on his face. Soon it went from random drops to a downpour. The rain quickly began falling in sheets. Shownu was soaked through his clothes. His eyes darted about, looking for a building to duck into so he could wait out this deluge.

He realized he was close to the Catedral de Celaya. Its pink-colored exterior was unmistakable, even in this rain. He ran into the church and took refuge in its cavernous depths. The high ceilings and ornate décor had a way of making one feel quite small. There was a deep stillness and silence in the sanctuary as it was largely empty. Early mass had already been done and only a few congregants remained, lighting candles and praying before the porcelain saints. Shownu wandered up the aisle to the front of the church where he took a seat on the bench close to a large crucifix. He stared up at the ceramic Jesus who seemed to stare back at him mournfully. Shownu was not a terribly religious person, but the ache in his heart had broken him open. He joined the great number of people who, finding themselves in pain, sought some metaphysical solution to their distress. So, there he sat, silently pleading for some relief from this anguish of having to walk away from Sol, a woman who was everything he had ever wanted.

Shownu didn't hear the elderly priest who had slipped into the pew beside him. When Shownu opened his eyes, he started a bit at the sight of the wizened Padre staring at him with curiosity. He bowed slightly to the priest. He wasn't sure what the protocol was for greeting a priest.

"You seem distressed, son," the Padre said in English, hoping that they could share this common tongue.

Shownu nodded, even though he wasn't sure what the priest had said to him. He could sense the compassion in his dark eyes. Shownu finally decided to speak. "Give your life is good, right?" he asked, staring up at the crucified Christ.

The priest looked thoughtfully at Shownu and shrugged. "Sometimes," he replied.

Shownu was perplexed by his answer. Wasn't it the highest and best use of your life to give yourself up for others? Wasn't it a high calling to give up what he wanted to serve his fans?

His wrinkled companion pointed toward the dying Christ. "Do you know what He said?" he asked Shownu.

Shownu shook his head.

"He said, 'No one takes my life away from me, but I lay it down myself. I have the power to lay it down and I have the power to pick it back up again.'"* The old man let the words hang in the air for a moment. "You can't lay down a life that you never owned," he explained simply. "You choose when and where to lay your life down, but you have to have picked it up at some point to be able to lay it down." With that, the old man stood and placed his hand on Shownu's shoulder and gave it a companionable squeeze. He slid out of the pew and walked away slowly.

Shownu walked to the open doorway and saw that the rain had stopped. He walked out into the muggy air. He felt he could barely breathe. The weight of the sacrifice being asked of him was almost more than he could take.

He climbed in a cab and went back to Sol's house. He hoped not to run into her. The beautiful planes of her tan face were more than his heart could bear when all he wanted was to stay by her side. He felt the disappointment in her eyes deep in his soul. He was disappointed in himself too. The last thing he needed was to see it in her face. He knew he should never have let his feelings for her show. He should never have entertained them, even for a moment because he gave her false hope. That was the guilt he carried, the fact that he had let her hope when there was no hope.

As soon as he entered the upstairs apartment, he found the bill, itemized and all business. There was no sign of the former Sol, the warm and vibrant woman who had taken him into her space and let him feel what it really meant to rest. He had rested his body, his mind, and his soul. She had given him the freedom to simply be. She had no expectations, no demands. Her affection was pure and uncomplicated.

He clutched the bill to his chest. It was the only thing she had ever written him. At least he had this one thing of hers to hold on to as he left. It was a sad remembrance, but at least it was something she had touched with those same fingers that had massaged his scalp and prepared his meals. He had never known that feeling before, the feeling of being taken care of. He had always given his all to his fans. It was his job, but it had also become his identity. His whole identity was formed around him pouring himself out every single day, but he had never found a way to fill himself up. Sol was the first person to ever show him how to fill up again. It wasn't just her; it was the whole lifestyle of being totally present in every moment.

He wiped tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand. He slipped his payment into an envelope and stepped out of the room, dragging his suitcases behind him. He wondered if Sol could hear the scraping of his suitcases against the stairs. He slid the envelope under her door and trudged away with a heavy heart. As he walked away, he turned to blow a kiss toward Sol's house.

*Paraphrase of John 10:18