Marian Meneses and the Vortex of Mystery

Jorge's cell phone vibrates on his desk. He picked it up and quickly slumped on his chair. Earlier, he texted Miles to call him right away after getting the "out of coverage area" noticed on his phone when he tried calling him.

"Jorge, this is Miles. We got a problem."

It was direct. Blunt. Quizzical. And perhaps it would entail a plethora of details that borders on the complex and the obscure. But it has its silver lining; like what Colonel Riva said, the most complex things might have the more basic answer, and it can naturally be found. They have to look at it, perhaps, in a different eye.

Miles was calling inside his old Volkwagen beetle, still amazed at how things fell into their rightful place. But it borders on the negative.

"Miles, go ahead. I'm listening."

The fat IT guy was in the corner digitizing the video that was sent by Colonel Riva. The screen on his monitor was slowly scanning the video images, and the calculation given would take up to a week to finish.

"I said earlier that the house is empty."

"Yes, you said it earlier."

"A woman is living there. Her name is Marian Meneses."

Jorge suddenly felt relief.

"What about her?"

"Hold on to your seat; you won't believe what she just confided in me."

Jorge tightened his grip on his armchair. This could be a break or a bump in the case.

"She claimed Henry De la Vega died some 50 years ago!"

Jorge's mouth suddenly dropped. He touched his chin for a moment. The information dumped on him took a while to process, but it was clear in its entirety. He was dead! Loud and Clear. But what the f_ck! He felt like a burned-out candle, and the place in his mind suddenly went dark. What did he step into?

"What?"

"Just like I said it. Crazy right?

"Any proof?"

"Marian said they were about to be married when Henry De la Vega died in a plane crash. He is an air force pilot. He still had his ashes or what's left of it sent to her by the military. The house is their residence. In fact, it is a gift from their parents. Even the old rusty car outside. But after his death, the house was neglected, which becomes the horror house I am looking at."

Jorge tried to massage his forehead.

"I can't wrap my head around it, Miles. This becomes confusing to me." He got dizzy for a while. It must have been the medication he took earlier. He noticed the slight tremors in his left hand. He tried to stabilize it by placing it on the edge of the table. But he could see the tingling and the erratic movement made.

"Me, too," Miles replied.

"Does he have a son? Someone that might carry the name?"

"No. It's unfortunate, though. Marian here is probably the most beautiful woman in her prime. She did not marry after he died."

"True love?"

"Might be. And oh, get this because this might shock you."

"What is it?"

"I showed her Henry De la Vega's photo ID."

"How did she react?"

"'That cannot be.' She said. "That cannot be as she repeated them over and over."

"Hold on. Why would she say that?"

"Beats me. But you know the shitty feeling when an overpowering emotion gets through you?"

"No."

"A person will deny everything when an emotion overran them. Because somehow it feels…"

There was a long pause between Jorge's answer. But it was a question in itself.

"Really?"

Jorge adjusted himself on his seat. The case is getting ridiculous as it goes deep. The rabbit hole is not someone for the faint of heart.

"Could be. But judging from the old woman's age, the imagination and fantasy are going south of the psych category... "

"Uh, but whatever crazy thoughts we have right now is stupid."

"You can say that."

"She is an interesting person."

"She truly is. And the saddest thing is. She never believed Henry De la Riva was truly dead."

"Why is that? Did she mean that metaphorically? Hello, Miles? "

Miles' signal suddenly got choppy.

"Still here…." he replied.

"I mean, some people can live through someone's heart, and it can go on forever. Can she mean it like that?

"I don't know. I did not ask."

"Can you say she is crazy when she says that?"

"Doesn't look like it. I love my wife, and I missed her when I didn't see her for a day or two. But I'm not crazy. This is 50 long years, Jorge. The only problem is why she would think he is not dead? "

"Perhaps, there's something she did not tell you that might have given her the hope."

Miles went silent.

"Yes. You might be right."

Marian Meneses looked through the old broken window. She can see Miles Sanchez talking on his cellphone. She never told him everything. But why would she? Her secrets are for hers to keep, and Miles need not know what she is truly hiding inside her heart. She was thankful that Miles Sanchez arrived to tell her the news. And having someone to talk to to help her control her nerves and anxiety. She saw her cat come in the door. " Come here, Benny." The cat purred and quickly jumped onto her arms. The cat tried to lick her arms, and after scratching the cat's neck, she gently placed the cat on the floor.

"Go find your corner, Benny," which the cat obliged.

She held in her chest a letter, which she kissed gently before opening it. It has a note on its back that reads, "Do not open until March 21, 1970." It marked the tenth day Henry De La Riva was declared dead by authorities. She remembered all too well what it said, and it was undeniable. But the fear of losing him is just too much. The letter provides her the umbilical cord—an attachment to something. And by reading them, offered her enough comfort and hope.

"Marian, when you read this, you probably have received my ashes. Declared dead. This is important that you know- I am still alive! I will come back to you. But you need to play your part. Please wait for me as long as you can. Never think for once about my departure not making any sense. Everything has a purpose. I, too, am still making sense of what is happening around me. But you have to put your trust and fate in me.

Love, Henry. "

Marian heard Miles' vehicle ran off. It was a relief that she was again alone.

She opened her box full of pictures and looked for Henry De La Riva's picture in his pilot uniform. He was a handsome young man. Marian felt a sudden onslaught of emotion. She could hear the songs in the air as it played, and she can still remember how they danced the night away, locked in each other's embrace. While as if she were dancing alone in her room, those happy moments would be swallowed swiftly back by a dark, powerful vortex back to the origin of her fantasy.

"Come back to me, Henry. Come back to me!" she pleaded as she slumped on the floor in desperation.