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Aisha clutched the book to her chest. “I would want my mama’s blessing.”

Gabi wondered what it would have been like trying to get her dad’s approval. It would have driven her nuts, and anyway, she was too stubborn to plead for anything from him. Just because he was her dad didn’t mean she had to have his permission or agreement for the way she lived her life. “If progress depended on attitudes like my dad’s, nothing would ever change.” If that’s how Aisha lived, no wonder she felt trapped.

“It’s about respect,” Aisha said. “And knowing you have their support makes things less frightening.”

It dawned on Gabi how much Nana’s support had helped her, especially defending Gabi to her dad, and she could relate a little to what Aisha was saying. “I guess. I have my nana’s blessing.”

Aisha turned and ran her finger across the spine of the books on a shelf. “Yes, you do.”

Gabi had hoped that Aisha might have talked more but touching on the need for parental approval had brought a halt to their conversation and subdued the atmosphere. “Do you have to work later?” she asked.

“I have errands, yes. I must take food to some of the elders who can’t leave their homes. I have to bake bread and pick vegetables.”

“You make me feel very lazy. I have nothing to do, and you work all hours.”

Aisha held Gabi’s gaze and took a deep breath. Gabi thought she was going to say something, but she didn’t. Gabi wanted to ask Aisha who she wanted to love, but Aisha turned back to the shelf, pulled out a book, and set it aside. The moment was lost.

“Will you come for a drink with me?” Gabi asked.

Aisha shook her head. “I can’t. I have to get back.”

“Some other time, I mean?”

Aisha smiled. “I’d like that.”

“Tomorrow?”

Aisha shook her head. “I don’t know when.”

Gabi had a sinking feeling. If she had her way, she would see Aisha every day. It wasn’t enough to know there would be a next time; she didn’t want this time to end, and not with this sense of an unfinished conversation. She wanted time alone with Aisha, to have her close without Aisha looking over her shoulder all the time as if she was being watched.

“I can still show you and your nana around the Alhambra, if you’d like.” Aisha smiled.

Gabi held Aisha’s gaze, and the warmth returned to Aisha’s expression. “I’d like that very much.” Gabi carried a claustrophobic feeling back to the hotel with her, and it made her feel tight, and vulnerable, and confused. The sense of being watched and that she was doing something wrong worsened, and she glanced over her shoulder, shoved her hands deep into her pockets, and strode out. She couldn’t imagine living day in and day out, wanting something that you couldn’t have. Aisha, who danced with intense passion and felt the language of the poets, was creative, and intelligent, and kind, but she was locked inside a world that would strip all that from her, and more, by not allowing her to choose how she lived or who she loved. Aisha loved Granada, and her family, and dancing. Gabi wasn’t sure what that all meant, but she wasn’t surprised that Aisha felt confused and trapped either. Just hearing about it, Gabi felt that way too.

14.

AISHA IGNORED HER MAMA’S repeated call and sat in the shade of the apple tree and continued to sketch with the small piece of charcoal she’d rescued from the discarded ashes of the previous evening’s fire. She’d kept the image obscure so that anyone looking on might see a scene or an impression of their own making. She’d captured the essence of her feelings for Gabi in long sweeping strokes and the lightest touch separated from the deep-rooted frustration she’d depicted through thick, dark, looming blotches in a cloudlike form. She held it up and studied it, turned it ninety degrees and then another ninety degrees. It needed more work but looking at the long sweeping strokes made her heart flutter.

“Aisha.”

Her mama had puffed herself up with fury and almost filled the doorway. She gestured to Aisha with urgency, though Aisha could see no fire that needed putting out. “I’m coming,” she said though she made no effort to hurry. She tucked the picture under her arm, put the charcoal in her dress pocket, and made her way to the house.

“What is wrong with you? I call you, and there you are lazing like there is no work to be done.” Mama turned and went inside to where Conchita stirred melted wax at the stove. “We have candles to make for the wedding. Conchita needs your help. I have vegetables to pick.”

Aisha sighed as her mother left the house. She watched her hobble across the street and into the field, taking slower and more deliberate steps than Aisha had remembered. At least she was able to walk on this Earth, which was more than Gabi’s mama could. The emptiness that she’d sensed comforting Gabi as Gabi had talked about her mum was still there when she thought about what Gabi had missed out on. Even though her mama’s controlling nature was irritating beyond words, she couldn’t imagine what her life would have been like without her. And she still had faith that her mama might listen to her, under the right circumstances, should Aisha summon the courage to talk to her about the reason she didn’t want to marry a man. But it wasn’t just about her mama, was it? There was her papa too, and the other villagers who would all have something to add to the mix. As Gabi had talked about her dad’s reaction to her kissing a girl, Aisha had known she would never get her papa’s blessing.

She hadn’t wanted to hurry back from the bookshop, but she’d lied to her mama about where she was going and had been worried about being seen and her mama finding out. She shouldn’t have been distant with Gabi because she wanted to talk to her more. But being that close had been awkward, so she’d gone quiet. If only she was brave enough to go for a drink with Gabi without concern for the consequences. She wanted to go. She wanted to be free. She wanted to be like Gabi.

She went to her room, traced the image she’d drawn with tenderness, then tucked it under her bed along with the charcoal. She would finish the sketch in the privacy of the night. It was only a picture, a dream, and she would never let them stop her dreaming. She would try to think of a way to make them listen to her. She had to do something, or she would die.

Conchita stopped stirring the wax and smiled at Aisha as if she’d been waiting for her to return. She looked down at the chain around her own neck.

“What’s that?” Aisha asked, knowing her sister wanted her to.

Conchita touched the chain and started to dance. “It’s an early wedding gift from García. Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

She had the dreamy joyful appearance that Aisha associated with being in love, airy and carefree. “Is it not enough that he’s giving you a ring?” Aisha regretted snapping, and when Conchita backed away and tended to the wax, she couldn’t look at her. Her throat became thick and tight, and she pressed her palm to her lips. She wasn’t angry with her sister. She was jealous.