Vuelve (Come Back to Me)

History

The cameras flashed in my face, bright bulbs one after the other as I made my way down the deep red carpet that led into the arena. When your young, you never imagine yourself attending a prestigious event, we all dream about being important, but how many of us truly get there? I gave a courteous wave, an occasional smile, a pose here and there as people called my name. “Ricky! Ricky over here!” Everyone and their mother wanted to know the mysterious auburn haired woman on my arm, politely I dodged that question with the interview I gave at the very end of the carpet. Fame tasted sweet, and it was sweetness that masked the bitterness, and fool you not, bitterness does exist. Strong, and firm, it’s the pink elephant in the room. I led my date by the hand into the arena, my eyes wide with wonder, a smile spreading across my face, it was the smile of a boy…thrilled. This was not my first time at the Grammy’s, hell, I’ve been to the Grammy’s consecutively for the past ten years, but this night would be the night I won three, adding to my collection of ten.
By the last award, I was staring out into the crowd, my cheeks tender from smiling, everyone expects you to smile. It was a her day today, tonight, this morning. Every February 9th, no matter where I was, what I did, it was simply her day. No, this her isn’t my date, its not the woman with emerald eyes and auburn hair. It was a young woman with jet black hair, and brilliant hazel eyes. It was Gabriella Davila. So, how was I supposed to pretend to be so happy? Awards were nice, but on her day, I usually just hide.
Our story goes way back, the eighties or so, back when I was a teenage boy first discovering fame. I met Gabriella at a fair, there was a flame that erupted within my soul and it was instant. It is twenty years later, but I remember it in vivid detail, everything is fresh in my mind. Gabriella wore a peasant like dress, which in Puerto Rico, depending where you were, it was popular. It was the style in the small towns, and Gaby’s dress was a beautiful crème. There was a purple ribbon that cinched her waist and one side of the dress fell off her slender olive toned shoulder. In her hair was a feather and a braid.
Our romance was short, not by choice, but by destiny.
She followed me from puerto rico to the states, enduring days where she wouldn’t see me at all. The group I was in was becoming internally famous, everyone wanted a piece of us. It was a grueling schedule, that me, being 18 yrs old, had barely any control over. I had grown with this group, lived with this group and developed into my own with it, Gaby came along at the wrong time. That I will not deny, but I also loved her with every fiber of my being. Somehow, in a short amount of time, I felt that desire, that lust, the adoration. She was addictive, like a drug that no one could take enough of, and the high always got higher. By two months, I was ready to get on one knee, my life had become crystal clear and it was obvious to me and those around me that Gaby was and would always be my life. It was a love stronger than that shared between my parents, and it was a bond that would last for all of time.
February 9th of 1990, Gaby was spending the weekend with her parents in their mansion on the coast of Puerto Rico. Her parents were rich, her dad a scientist, one of the most respected in the world, and her mother an author. Her parents weren’t very fond of me, however, they respected me and respected what I had with their daughter. Gaby had made plans with her parents to go to the grand opening of an art museum, and then to a nice lunch. I hadn’t gotten any calls from her, or her parents, I just chalked it up to them staying out later. Remember, in that time, there were no cell phones and that was an easy reason. She hadn’t called me because she wasn’t home just yet, that was a logical reason. A week of failed attempts to get a hold of her led me to taking a red eye to the island from Las Vegas. When I got to her family home, all the lights were off except for a candle in the sill of Gaby’s window. I knocked, not caring about the time or that normal people were asleep, and I knocked hard. The family maid answered, and her shoulders dropped in disappointment when she saw my face. She lowered her eyes and shook her head. “I’m so sorry Enrique”
“Sorry?” I saw her eyes glass, and her bottom lip quiver. “Angie where is Dr. Leon” I demanded walking into the house, the air was heavy and full of inexplicable sorrow. By then, Gaby’s father was coming down the stairs quickly. “Dr. Leon, where is Gaby?”
“Ricky come with me”, he took me by the arm, much like a parent would do to a child. I pulled back my arm, stubborn and determined. I went upstairs, to her bedroom and it was empty. I checked every guest room, hoping to see her figure beneath the fancy duvets…but no.
“Gaby’s gone Ricky”
“Gone where?”
She had died, they never made it to the museum…a car had hit her, and kept on.
I didn’t have time to be sad, everything after that seemed to blur. All I remember is walking out into the dirt roads of the island and falling to my knees, shouting in rage and fury at the sky. Worst thing was, her father decided to keep her in a capsule, frozen, in hopes of one day bringing her back. I despised him for that, that false hope, couldn’t he let her go in peace?