speculative portrait
A Community Writing Collaboration
Tumbleweed Found’s antique portraits come to life from the depths of imagination and out into the written word by Professor Micah Perks and three writers from her Spring Advanced Fiction Class, UCSC; Emily Pineda, Hailey Phipps and Melissa Low.
This second writing is by Emily Pineda.
He’d just watched his only daughter leave. He sighed, taking a breath of the crisp air and feeling it circulate through his lungs. It felt too soon to let her go, living so far away from the family and everyone she knew. But it was for the best. There, he’d have more opportunities than could ever be possible in such a small town like this one. In Los Angeles, she’d have more free reign to work on her art. She would have the chance to polish it up and perfect it. Here, people didn’t care about those sorts of things–too busy with the tasks of life, farming and tending to their families. Over there, they treasured the art, the music, the vibrancy.
She’d have the smoky skies and the jagged skyscrapers to guide her now, gone were the endless fields of wildflowers and the gentle trickle of the valley streams. It was everything Daniela had ever wanted. She would have mentors and peers to bounce ideas off of and she’d have a diverse landscape to draw inspiration from.
From the moment she conjured up rough sketches of cities and busy streets, he knew she was meant for far more than their home could offer. She was just five when she drew them so they were mostly messy scrawls of excitement on parchment, but he saw the passion she had for it.
His heartbeat rushed in his ears and he felt his eyes sting, swimming in all the love he felt. Daniela was following her dreams and it was all he could ask for. Perhaps it wasn’t the steady, money-making career he’d always imagined her to have when he crossed the border–she wasn’t a doctor or a lawyer or even a teacher–but it kept her heart beating, it kept that smile, so curious and open, etched onto her lovely face.
He was alone now. Just him and the waxy old car he’d spent the entire summer fixing up. It gave him something to think about, to twiddle with, as Daniela made her plans and packed up. He’d spent days replacing the engine and trying to find the perfect shade of yellow to renew the chipped paint. The distraction was nice; it worked like a salve to soothe the open wounds of his worry. He knew Daniela was capable enough, strong enough to figure things out on her own. He also knew how stubborn and trusting she was.
His chest constricted with a thump of melancholy if only Carmela was still by his side. She would be the ultimate salve to his stinging soul; she’d be able to give Daniela the right advice. But no— that thought was selfish. It would’ve been painful for her to watch Daniela leave. She would’ve spent the morning sobbing into her cafecito, bombarding Daniela with a long list of items to pack. Mija, make sure you have your train tickets. Did you pack your apron? How about your canvases? And your brushes, you can’t forget those!
Carmela was happy now, floating amidst the puffed-upclouds and April skies. She would always be watching Daniela in her own way, watching him too. Sometimes he felt her, in that sliver of sunlight after a rainstorm or in the way the finches chirped, in those little high-pitched whirs when all seemed quiet and empty on the ranch. She was always by his side, peering, watching as she always did. That same curiosity transferred from mother to daughter. Carmela’s strength and spirit seemed to transcend the world of the living. Everytime Daniela furrowed her brows in determination, he felt Carmela by his side. That same spirit flowed through Daniela. In that way, he’d always be near them.
He wiped down the hood one last time, making sure the surface was clear and bright. He’d spent all of this time bringing the car back to life with a new engine and a fresh coat of paint. Now, it was time to return to him. In some ways, it would be a new life without his daughter. But she would never be too far, and besides, he could always drive down to the city in his new wheels to visit her.
He stepped onto the porch of his house, watching the open fields. He tossed the greasy rag away.
