Soaring Skylark

By Maria Luisa Muñoz Prado

In the year 1968, Alejandra meets Guillermo, whom he married 12 years later and had a happy, full and enviable marriage in front of the eyes of everyone. They formed a beautiful family with 5 sons, created one of the most important educational companies in the country and one of the most representatives of Latin America. When they had 32 years of marriage, suddenly, one day, that fairytale marriage ends, leaving everyone perplexed.

Soaring skylark looks and pretend to be a waking call before the human nature for us to learn to look, to live with dignity, respect and the valuation we deserve.

Is a testimony of divine justice accompanied by a love story that survived 40 years of marriage and a separation, and that finally it honesty, purity and truth turn it into a reality.

A love story in which everyone seems to be something they are not. A storyline that will take you to the deeps of the human heart and will show you how we are something in front of people, we seem another, we say another and feel something really different to all of the previous ones. A marriage where truths and lies mix relentlessly. A story that can be your own.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Palibrio
• Release date: Oct 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781463368449

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Copyright © 2013 by Maria Luisa Muñoz Prado.

Library of Congress Control Number:                          2013919174

ISBN:                            Hardcover                       978-1-4633-6846-3

                                      Softcover                         978-1-4633-6845-6

                                      Ebook                              978-1-4633-6844-9

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Rev. date: 26/10/2013

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER I: CHILDHOOD

CHAPTER II: SUMMER OF 72’

CHAPTER III: AN EXCUSE TO FORGET

CHAPTER IV: THE ARRIVAL OF THE CHILDREN

CHAPTER V: ESTABLISHING A BUSINESS

CHAPTER VI: THE DUMBSISTANTS

CHAPTER VII: CONSTRUCTION OF OUR OWN PREMISES

CHAPTER VIII: PURCHASING PROPERTIES

CHAPTER IX: A CHANGE OF ATTITUDE

CHAPTER X: THE TWILIGHT

CHAPTER XI: SO MANY QUESTIONS

CHAPTER XII: MAKING A DECISION

CHAPTER XIII: ALONE WITH MYSELF

CHAPTER XIV: THE DIVORCE

CHAPTER XV: STARTING AGAIN

CHAPTER XVI: A CIRCUMSTANTIAL FUNERAL

CHAPTER XVII: THE RETURN OF AN HONEST LOVE

CHAPTER XVIII: A DATE IN COLOMBIA

CHAPTER XIX: THE ADVENTURE OF THE UNCERTAINTY

CHAPTER XX: LIVING TOGETHER

CHAPTER XXI: A NEW LIFE FOR EVERYONE

APPENDIX: Emails, phone calls, talks, and pensive things…

To all the women who dare change the direction of their lives,

To all the men who know how to love

And, specially, To Ricardo, the man I love.

CHAPTER I

CHILDHOOD

When I try to recall my childhood, there is always the ever-present loving memory of my nanny, Totita. She was a really modest woman, short, like she was trying to go unnoticed. Her hair was also short and with a permanent. She wore glasses and was always dressed with a bell-shaped skirt and a sweater. She was always diligent, attentive and helpful. I never saw her in a bad mood, ever! What an ability to live life with serenity and kind manners! I wish there would be more people like her!

My memories are of a carefree happy childhood, full of games and a great liking for school. I loved studying, and that one smell characteristic of Vinifan, a plastic book cover, with which we would cover our notebooks with special blue paper and red and white name tags, and, of course, the indispensable Pedro P. Diaz leather handbag in which we would carry all our school supplies; then would come the baskets, and later, the backpacks. That was trendy! These events were taking place in the 70’s, when, of course, nobody knew about mobiles.

This story is born to give testimony of how in our lives -a lot of people- we do stuff without fully realizing what we are doing with it, with the only one chance we got in this world. For that reason, I would like for everyone to recognize while reading this book the immense power of love and how it is the true source of happiness. I would also want for everyone to understand that people cannot be changed by anyone. Change comes hand by hand with willingness. And without it, it is impossible for a transformation to happen.

We have to become aware of what we do with our lives, we need to be conscious that time goes by too fast, and that it does not come back and neither goes back.

The sad part is that, many times, we live or do everything in our lives almost out of habit, and without fully noticing that we have the right to be happy. We are born to be happy, only that, to do so, it is indispensable for us to be fully aware and willing; nevertheless, most people only survive, they do not learn to live and that is why they meet so many people who is living almost dead or dying when they are alive… What a waste!

I realize, looking over my own existence, that although someone who is dying is alive, someone who is almost living is already dead.

In the next pages we are going to try and see how life always gives us new chances, and how we -thanks to our free will- decide to be reborn in a new chance in life after an emotional wound to the heart.

THINGS CHANGE…

Life does not stop, and in that unyielding and unstoppable passing of time, things change, places change, people change, feelings change. Everything obeys to some kind of rotation, of spinning, where there are people who disappear from your life and others that appear…

Despite the fact that I am 55 years old, it does not seem like much… I feel like less time has gone by. I see myself as a daughter: tiny, mischievous, dancing, always, absolutely always, laughing with that happiness that radiated joy, always dreaming with growing up, with being an artist or a singer. Oh! How I loved to imitate Marisol and Rocio Durcal! They were very famous Spanish Artist back in the 60’s.

How beautiful was my childhood! It was very calm and with no problems. Flawless vacations on the beach, sharing a house with all my family, my grandmother, my parents, my aunts and uncles, my cousins; days that I would not change for anything in the whole world.

My house was very small. It had four bedrooms, a dining room, a kitchen, one bathroom, a small patio where we would hang out the laundry and a little balcony that, at the time, me and my cousins would use as a playing area, and years later, it would give us shelter every Friday afternoon just in time for our suitors to come and visit us. This was the place where all of us gave our shy and brief teenage first kisses.

Every morning we would go down to the beach at 11 o’clock. But not before leaving the clothes we would use after our baths on the bed. It was a routine that was repeated day after day, and that, years later, when we were mothers, it would still be repeated with our children.

After lunchtime came afternoons of Little School, it was a game so real and that we played so seriously that we had our own bell, attendance records, recesses, recitals and an old pencil sharpener. It was one of those old ones, the ones that left a perfect-shaped writing point. On top of that, we had our art class in which we would go to the esplanade and paint with watercolors. We would paint the sea, the island, the boats and whatever thing that crossed our way.

CHAPTER II

SUMMER OF 72’

And it was on a fisherman’s cove on the southern outskirts of Lima where I made my first friends, and, of course, my first big love. That one love that is white, innocent, beautiful, in which the hours are spent just looking at each other’s eyes, no talking, as if words were to wake us up from our daydream. It was a really unforgettable love, the kind the one remembers in cold lonely nights; a mischievous memory that comes and goes out of the blue. It was a brief love, it lasted barely eight months. But when it is about love, time is measured by the intensity of the memories, not by the length of time show in the calendars…

It is funny, but out of all the cousins that lived in that house, I was the only one with a boyfriend. So we were, as you can say, the main characters of the love story that lived in the heart of all of us - Four cousins sighing over the story of the cheerful, playful and unruly cousin of barely 14 years old.

There is also where I met the person who, years later, would be my husband, Guillermo. I met him when I was eleven, when I still used my socks with lace and sleep with a little teddy bear called Cuqui.

I met Guillermo the same day my oldest sister turned fifteen. I remember we were at the beach house when some of her friends came to greet her.

-   Hello, birthday girl! But, what are you all doing here, inside the house? - Said Enrique, while Betty looked astonished –Come on! Let’s go for a stroll around the esplanade and maybe we can go for ice creams– He continued very lively- When you turn 15, you have to celebrate it with your friends, come on!

So, my sister and I went for a stroll with them, just as Enrique was suggesting. It was around 8pm and there were not so many people walking on the esplanade, when Betty says:

-   Look, Enrique! There are the Mendieta brothers! ¡Come on girls, let’s introduce you!

The Mendieta brothers were three boys around 16 or 20 years old.

-   Hello! What are you doing? – greet Enrique

-   Nothing, we just got here to spend the summer – said Luis, one of the Mendieta Brothers.

-   Hey, I wanted to introduce you to some friends: Maria and Alejandra.

-   Hi! - I said really excited. It was the first time I was introduced to older boys, at that time I was barely 11 years old – You know what?, Today my sister turns 15!

-   Oh, really? - Said Guillermo tersely – Putting a face like why do I care?

Enrique, who realized my disappointment face said with complicit enthusiasm - Yes, we are with the birthday girl… well, we are leaving now. We are going to get some ice creams. Let’s go, girls! – And then waved the Mendieta brothers goodbye.

With that, we all said goodbye and continued with our stroll.

From then on, our group of friends from the beach started growing. We were like ten girls and boys that each summer would meet up just to have a good time.

Our routine was bathing at midday, fishing in the afternoon or climbing the hills, watching the most beautiful sunsets while eating in the top of the hill freshly baked carioca bread or butter bread from the only bakery of the beach town- They were absolutely delicious!- And strolling around the esplanade at night.

In our house, it was our grandmother with her 3 children, and each one of them with their families: Lucho with his wife, his two daughters and his son; Ernesto with his wife and her two daughters, and my parents with me and my two sisters and my nanny Totita. All of my cousins were almost of the same age with me and my sisters.

I don’t remember any type of conflict in that house. Everybody got along really well. We- the 7 girls- always had a great time. We were always playing and transporting a bunch of dolls, papers and a hundred knick-knacks from room to room. I remember that we spend the long afternoons on the balcony of the house with as many toys as we could fit in there.

When we started growing up, they would give us permission to go strolling around but only until certain point, and only if we went all together.

I made good friends with one of the boys Enrique introduce us the day on Maria’s birthday – Guillermo – actually, we would introduce ourselves as siblings at parties - even though nobody believed us because, physically, we were very different, he was olive-skinned with slanted eyes and I was a brunette. But when the love is big, you don’t make differences based on the color of the skin. God! That would be ridiculous!

One day, in the summer of 72’, I -14 years old- was lying with my radio on the sand, when I saw Guillermo’s little shore boat approaching the shore, he was with another boy – who I thought was super churro (something we would said when we saw someone very attractive and handsome) - they climbed out of the boat and came to me.

-   Hi Alejandra, What are you doing here by yourself? Where are the others?

-   Hi! Everybody has gone fishing.

-   Oh, ok. Look, this is Ramon.

-   Hi, nice to meet you Alejandra, isn’t it? Or would you rather Ale?

I felt like my face was going to explode of how hot it felt, I loved his formalism, the swiftly way he started to use my affectionate nickname and his smiley face.

We exchanged some words and then the boys took off to where the other ones had gone. I stayed for a bit just thinking how cool Ramon was. I liked seeing someone like him; he looked happy, confident, very modest and cheerful. I sighed. He is the kind of boy one could easily fall in love I thought while giggling to myself.

Every weekend, the hotels and the club would organize parties with the popular musical groups of the time. Boys from Lima arrived on Fridays and that gave the beach town a boost. In the houses, the ladies would use hair rollers on the beach because they were getting ready for their husbands who, as soon as they lived their offices, would go to their families. One of them was my uncle Lucho, who owned a black Chevrolet and every Friday at 6 o’clock would arrive and immediately start honking the horn of his car until my Aunt Hilda came out and waved at him from the balcony.

One Friday afternoons when he was on his way to Pucusana, he saw a boy trying to hitch a ride. My uncle was by the kilometer 40 of the North Pan-American Highway and he recognized the figure of the youngster, he had seen him back at home, it was Ramon. So he stopped and made him climb. That day was the beginning of a beautiful friendship between them.

They both loved Criollo music – in fact, it was my uncle Lucho who taught my cousins and me how to waltz- they were both soccer fans- the kind that has to watch or play every time they have a ball near- and they were hopeless optimists -nothing or nobody could put a sad look on their faces- they were really young spirits, at that time my uncle was 40 and was the main medical representative of one of the most important medical laboratories of the country. They were both very enthusiastic and my uncle used to give Ramon advice for his selling job.

This is how, as a result of that encounter in the highway, they decided to meet somewhere in Lima, so most of the time they would arrive together at the beach. It was curious but it was like the 20 years gap between them did not exist. Maybe it was the lack of a father in Ramon’s life but he got into a really nice relationship with my dear uncle.

Unfortunately, an aneurism prostrate him in the hospital for almost 2 months, in which Ramon would go to visit him at nights, when he came out of his university. He managed to circumvent the security controls or get ground passes and went to see his friend Lucho, making him laugh with his witty remarks.

In spite of the all the medical efforts, my uncle passed away two months later and after two aorta transplant operation – which were the first ones being done in Peru. He died young, leaving his beloved family with a baby boy of 1 year and two girls of 5 and 7 years old and a huge gap that was never fulfilled again.

Summer ended and we had to go back to classes. I was in my 4th year of High School (10° grade) and my friends started dating. With Ramon we had a lovely relationship, very beautiful; we both felt that with each passing day it grew stronger. One winter evening, we went to the house of Mrs. Yolanda, who was the school driver. She had brought together a group of old ladies for Ramon to make a demonstration of autoclaves. Fortunately he made a good sell so we were really happy. When we came out, we started walking hand by hand happily chattering about the sells he had made and then, just when we were walking by a church, we kissed for the first time. It was an unforgettable moment - a tender, sweet and beautiful kiss. We embrace for a long time and we did not want it to end.

I was in my 4th year of high school and he was in his 8th semester of university. We saw each other on weekends; we would share our things, our illusions of hopeful young people in love.

He would come to my house and we would go to a park near it with his tape recorder and we would listen to all of our songs. It was magical, the time we shared - always cheerful, always dreaming and always happy.

We would write letters for each other and send them on the mail. It was nice to suddenly get a love letter delivered by the postman. It was always a great surprise.

One night, Maria sat on the border of my bed and told me:

-   Hey sister, until when are you going to sleep with Cuqui?

-   Why are you asking? What is wrong with it? – I defensively replied

-   ¡Ha, ha you’re so amusing!, You are already starting a love life and you are still sleeping with a teddy bear – she teased me. She had never had a boyfriend and I think that she was a little jealous even then.

-   So?! What does it matter? I like it! And also, nobody knows about it, so don’t even say a thing, okay? And finally, I am not hurting anyone. Stop messing with me- Laughing I threw her my pillow, and we went to sleep.

That conversation was repeated a lot of times, it was like our nightly routine. That truth is that at the time, I didn’t realize that it was the process of letting go of my childhood and puberty…

How beautiful love is! – I thought back then – Ramon was so very happy, we would spend hours chatting, joking, and dreaming. Actually, we were always ALWAYS laughing.

One time, I had to do a literature essay and analyze a play. I remember we went together, for the first time ever, to watch a musical play called Oye from the theatrical association Cuatro Tablas. When the play ended, Ramon asked to talk to the Association’s Director. He came out to us, and Ramon explained him about my school project. He was very kind and helpful and expended almost an hour happily talking to us.

That is when I first enjoyed Ramon the Interviewer. His excellent capacity to communicate with other people was simply stunning! I overly enjoyed listening to him asking and asking questions about the different points on the play with a perfect analysis. Needless to say, I got the higher grade of my class.

I can still remember that autumn afternoon, the three of us in the empty theatre, talking about the motives of the play and its protesting politic content.

In my house, everyone liked him. When he arrived to my house, my mom would come out and chat with him for a bit, while I prepared something to have tea. But we would only see each other twice a week because we both studied.

-   Well Young lady, let’s get serious, alright? - Ramon said looking me really close with those big brown eyes of him.

-   Stop, I can’t! –I said giggling- You’re making me laugh!

-   But, what are you laughing for? I haven’t said anything yet.

-   I know you’re going to jest with me, I know you!

-   But lisane ok? – It was our way of saying listen to me- You see? You’re not lisaning…

-   Alright, okay – I told him faking a serious face- Let’s see, tell me, what’s going on?

-   No, not here, come on let’s go to our office.

He took my hand and we left looking and hugging each other while walking by the old esplanade until we reached our spot. It was a curve where you could see the entire bay. That was since the beginning our spot. There was barely a street lamp that was all.

When we got there, he hugged me so hard, I thought I was broking. When we let go, he had a special, sweet and tender look on his face, his eyes were so full of love.

-   I love you Ale, I love you more with every passing day! You’re sweet, loving, feminine you got it all! I want to protect you and always take care of you my love. You’re a treasure for me!

I was so moved by his words that, even though, Ramon constantly said them to me, he was an extremely expressive boy, transparent and sincere. He lost his father when he was a couple of months old. He did not get to know him. He was shaped surrounded by the love of his mother and sisters.

Our relationship was like all those young first loves: clean, pure, a lot of looks, kisses, a lot of them: sweet, tender, some passionate, with a desire of feeling, but nothing else. We were just a couple of teenagers of 14 and 18 in love. We were really young.

In winter, we could barely see each other on weekends, and maybe a call – It was the 70’s and there were not any mobiles, you could barely get a pay phone which we called rins. On Fridays I would end my homework real fast so I could go out with him to the movies or just to take a stroll.

We had a habit, almost like a habit, in which every single time we met he would give me a bubble gum box and since the first time, I started collecting every single one of them putting dates and places on its inside: if we went to the movies, if we went to the park, if this or which party or coffee shop. I kept them on a chest with lock, like if it was the greatest of treasures, because for me it was.

On December we had our pre-prom party, it was my first long dress party and it was the first time I would get to see Ramon with a suit. I remember he did not wear a tie but a bandana around his neck. My friends and I, we had hire a photographer- it was the usual at the time- and we got pictures with my friend Maria Angelica and my cousin who was her date. We were dancing happily all night. My friends had never seen me having so much fun at a party. It was the first party in the entire city with a date and who is better than the guy I loved.

The next summer finally arrived, and we could be together again on weekends. His uncle and aunt – Betty and Enrique’s parents- also had a house in the same beach where my family spent summers, so we would get together on Friday afternoons until Sundays in which we he would back to the city to study and work.

Almost every Saturday there would be parties with popular musical groups. It was the perfect moment for the couples to slow dance with the rhythms of the time. The eternal ballads of Nino Bravo, The Beatles, the unforgettable Michael Jackson’s Ben, I’ll be there, or the Belkings’ instrumental Tema para jóvenes enamorados, or Meshkalina from the Peruvian group Traffic Sound – with which we danced non-stopping so many times. It was a time when no one bothered about the translation of the lyrics. I never knew what I was singing but we had fun anyway.

In the afternoons we would spend long hours talking on the balcony of the house; always with the watchful eye of a curious neighbor - Mr. Ramos. In the nights we would go for a stroll around the esplanade hand by hand or leaning on each other and there would also be some hidden kisses in some corner of the fisher’s wharf.

Everything was going well, actually really well. Until one night, Ramon came to my house different. He was sad and asked me to go for a walk.

We were all together in the group and the next moment we were alone standing in the dock facing the sea. It was a warm, fresh and quiet night.

All of a sudden, when we were completely alone, his expression changed, I had never seen him like this.