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“What does that mean?” I laughed.
“It means, visiting Columbia during Easter equals nonstop rain. Do you know what happens to chocolate eggs when they get wet? Christ may have risen, but in Bogotá, the sky is falling in spring. Trust me, no amount of colorful eggs could save the day.”
“That’s funny, but you do know they go hand in hand, right?”
“Rain and eggs?”
“Yeah, well sorta. Colorful eggs are a symbol of new life, and you can’t have new life without rain.”
“Is that what you think?” she asked curiously, turning in her seat to face me. “Painting eggs isn’t really a thing in Columbia, but try explaining that American tradition to your eighty-year-oldabuelita. We painted them for a different purpose, to make something beautiful out of something sad—such as us stealing from defenseless hens. It’s a one-sided transaction if you ask me. They’d make the eggs, and we’d eat them.”
“So that’s not a Columbian tradition?” I asked.
“No,” she shrugged. “Just a crazy Cortez family one. I guess that’s why it felt so special. Meanings always change depending on who you talk to, you know?”
Special? That helped put things in perspective. The truth was, Alejandro and I were also special; that night at the theatre was special, and now the rain was special. And from all these special things, a reminder prevailed that I couldn’t ignore; time passes and feelings change.
Meaningschange, as Ivanna suggested.
But what hadn’t changed, and what had bothered me now for quite some time was the confusion I felt for Alejandro. It was like someone had snapped a piece of myself and molded it into him. I liked that and feared that.
“Clever man,” I confessed to myself, as Charles pulled up to the building.
He was always surprising, always symbolic, even the event for New York Prestige had a meaning; its venue a location I could never forget. This was for us.
“I can’t believe he picked The Met.” Ivanna leaned over me, staring through my window, “So bold, especially after the whole painting scandal.”
“What can I say? He himself is bold.”
I knew it as soon we turned on Fifth Avenue that he picked this venue on purpose. This wasn’t a coincidence, and nothing ever was with him; not this, not for making me his designer, for calling me hisgood girl. Maybe it was fate, but also, maybe fate wasn’t done taking me where it needed.
“Be glad we’re skipping that. It’s a total nightmare.” Ivanna pointed to the distant red carpet outside, its barricade lined with paparazzi and flashing cameras.
“How do we even get in?”
“Right through there,” Ivanna motioned towards a fire exit, an otherwise quiet grey door where Alejandro and I once made our great escape from. I looked at it, before looking back at the red carpet.
“This is supposed to be better? Better than being with him, than having our photo taken together?” My thoughts seeped through into a question.
“It’s just for now. You know he cares about you… let him take the heat for what’s going on, and before you know it, you’ll be together at these events, so much so, that you’ll begin to hate them.”
Ivanna’s assurance felt more like an uncomfortable reminder of what had happened. Had the photo of Parker and me not been released, would tonight be different? Would I have been walking alongside Alejandro in my vintage Valentino, his hands gripping tightly on my waist, brushing the fitted folds of black charmeuse down my hips? I wanted to look good for him, to be pulled into his arms for everyone to see. That in itself was a commitment, just like the label he wanted us to have.
“I feel more like a secret going towards the exit.” I pressed my hand against my twisted chignon as I stepped out of the car.
“I know it’s less grand than the entrance.” Ivanna followed behind as I stared toward the concrete steps, half-expecting to see Alejandro standing in his suit. I never felt more distant from him, especially after last night and our conversation this morning.
“I don’t mind being in the shadows, but I wish I could be his advocate, to be by his side—”
“Miss Harrison!”
The excited call alarmed me, as I turned away from the entrance.
“Shit,” Ivanna interrupted, but the person shouted again.
“Who is the mystery man that you kissed?”
A pop of light burst toward my face.
