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Last Song Part II

Last Song Part I

But, life has always a blind turn for all of us, and for Maritza, it was George Palacio. There he was waiting outside the Old Catholic High School when he introduced himself as a musician representative. His thick Italian accent accentuated his pointy mustache and his greasy hair adhered to his skull like a second skin. George did not look older than thirty but his spotless gray suit that was well ironed and his penetrating aroma made Maritza feel dizzy and she blamed it on a hot day. Of course, she should have known better when George asked if he could speak with her alone. Olivia just giggled and nodded elbowing Maritza to go ahead.
Maritza walked alongside George that changed to Italian more often than not. She did not mind but it was getting annoying when he just used random English words to say the most idiotic comments and he would always begin with “How do you say… ah yes…” then say the word in perfect English with no accent at all and with arrogance as if speaking English was something dirty. Maritza did not like such people since she liked to respect each culture for their qualities and most of all respect the language. She thought the language was the body of the culture and the music of its soul. Italian and English lyrics had beautiful stories embedded in them if one paid attention and Maritza was one that took to heart most of the song’s lyrics.
Maritza and George arrived at a crowded fountain soda place where teens with colorful skirts and some boys with long greasy hair and skinny jeans. They were mostly from the public high schools and Maritza felt a little out of place with her gray skirt and red sweater of her school uniform with the seal of the school large and bright on her chest.
George grabbed the root beers with a lot of extra foam and handed one to Maritza, and she felt in love with the drink at once. She never had had one because she did not hang with Olivia in such places and there would be hell to pay at their houses if they were even found in such companies. George smiled under his foamed whiskers. Maritza relaxed at seeing him act so funny and natural. She lowered her defenses and felt relaxed. Something she would come to regret later, but for that moment the jukebox played on the background and the black and white titles with their smooth surfaces made the place seem magical.
Maritza closed her eyes and smiled. Rock was always such chaotic music to her ears but it had its merit. Love flew through the lyrics and the electric feelings made her want to dance and she imagined dancing with this thirty Old Italian guy in the middle of all those teenage boys. George looked too old to be in such a place, but somehow he fitted in better when he took off his suit jacket and unbuttoned one or two of his blue-collar shirt. The muscles under his shirt were noticeable and a few of the girls around stared at him as he messed his oily black hair. Maritza bit her lips and was awed at the transformation. He looked younger and handsome not some old businessman. The music at the jukebox changed and boys grabbed girls to dance.

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