The Priest by Monica La Porta Page A

fell to the floor, sliding toward Mauricio’s bed.
    He reached for it at the same time she did,
and for a moment, their hands touched. “Here,” he said, placing the
ring on her palm.
    “Thanks. I should be more careful with this.
It has the Layans crest on it,” Rosie explained. When he didn’t say
anything back, she added, “It’s my family ring.” She waited for him
to acknowledge her words, but he wasn’t looking at the ring
anymore.
    “Just beautiful,” he commented, his eyes now
firmly on her.
    “Thanks,” she repeated.
    Mauricio would have sworn that she was
blushing.
    “What happened to you?” she asked, changing
topic abruptly.
    “I haven’t eaten a lot in the last three
days,” he said drily.
    “You didn’t want to eat?”
    “I’ve been really hungry.” Mauricio wanted
to laugh.
    Rosie’s eyes widened in understanding and
she blushed even deeper. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” She came
closer to Mauricio.
    “Don’t worry.” He was affected by her
proximity.
    “I forget how things are for… you.” Rosie
put a hand on his bed without touching him.
    Mauricio wanted to move his hand and touch
hers again, but doing so on purpose was unthinkable. He didn’t dare
change his position on the small frame of the bed.
    “Sometimes I think that Ginecea should be
different. I don’t understand why things are the way they are.”
    Mauricio looked at her, transfixed. He
couldn’t believe what she was saying.
    “You are the President’s daughter!” Mauricio
exclaimed.
    “How do you know?”
    “I overheard the guards talking about you.”
Mauricio remained vague on purpose.
    “Oh, I can imagine the things they say.”
Rosie laughed again.
    “Not great things, actually.” Mauricio
laughed too and realized that it felt good to be able to share a
laugh in such carefree way.
    “I heard them talking about me when they
didn’t realize I was there. I heard ‘stupid brat’ and ‘spoiled
breed.’ I’m sure that they were being polite,” Rosie said with
levity.
    “No, that’s pretty much about it. What I
heard was more or less along the same line.”
    “I feel better, already.”
    “Why are you here?” He knew it all too well
now, but it felt the right thing to ask.
    “I wanted a baby,” Rosie said with a clipped
voice.
    “Is your wife here with you?”
    “No.” Rosie’s voice had become very
cold.
    Mauricio felt a weight on his chest at her
answer. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
    Rosie stared at a corner for few seconds,
breathed slow and then finally looked at him again. “You didn’t.
Your question was to be expected,” she said in a gentler tone.
    Mauricio thought that, if anything, his
question wasn’t to be expected at all, him being a slave and she,
the President’s daughter.
    “I’m not married. I’m here by myself,” she
admitted slowly.
    Mauricio sensed there was something else she
wasn’t saying, but he wasn’t going to make the same mistake
twice.
    Rosie decided to satiate his curiosity
anyway. “I don’t want to do the things that are expected of me,”
she said with a timid smile.
    “Don’t tell me,” Mauricio couldn’t help to
reply.
    “I’m sorry… I seem to be very clumsy with
words around you. It’s that I’ve never talked to a slave before.”
Rosie realized that she had just done it again and put a hand over
her mouth. “It’s just that I don’t know what to say…”
    “It’s okay. I feel the same way, but I like
that you talk to me.” Mauricio felt like he was in a dreamlike
state again. It happened a lot where Rosie was concerned.
    “I do, too. I don’t act with you. I don’t
have to put on a mask. I smile because I want to,” Rosie said, as
if she was realizing it at that moment. “It is so refreshing to be
able to just be myself. Not the President’s daughter everybody has
to like in public, not the spoiled brat nobody likes in private.
Just Rosie.” She paused for a moment and then added, “But I’m
afraid I don’t