Chapter 1
Johnny...was not in his prime anymore. Sure, he was still considered handsome, but war changes a man. His eyes no longer shined, he had permanent bags under his eyes, and he was only twenty years old in the beautiful year of 1923. Yeah, he wasn’t old, but he sure felt like it. Sure, he had run off to fight the war and join the military at fifteen much to everyone’s dismay, but he thought it was a good choice! (And it got him through college.)
Though, he did not expect his path to lead him to Santa Cecilia, Mexico to help an old friend from the military with a brutal divorce.
He was walking through the cobblestone paths when his old boots finally gave in, almost causing him to drop the fragile box he was carrying. Luckily, his reflexes were still as sharp as ever so he caught the box and didn’t shatter a thing!
Maybe he was being dramatic about his age.
His friend had recommended this up-and-coming zapatería, apparently owned by a family called the Riveras? Well, it said Rivera Familia Zapatería, est. 1921, so this had to be the place. He didn’t really know exactly what to do, his Spanish was mediocre, at best, so he just rang the bell on the little counter…thing? Was it just called a service counter or something else? Outside service desk? He didn’t know.
He snapped out of his thoughts when a man hurried over to the counter. The man was tall, hair combed down flat with a bowler hat on and a well-groomed mustache, though it was a little small, as if it was new. He dressed nicely as well, in a white shirt with a black vest and matching black pants. He couldn’t see his shoes. The man seemed a little frantic but he was smiling.
“Hola! ¡Bienvenidos a nuestra zapatería!” the man exclaimed. “¿Cómo podemos ayudar?”
Johnny blinked. He understood some of that sentence, racking his brain hard for a translation.
The man seemed to pick up on this because he laughed and then spoke.
“Do you speak English?”
Johnny perked up and chuckled sheepishly. “That obvious?”
“A little.” the man laughed. “What brings you to the Rivera Zapatería?”
“Ah, well, I was helping an old friend move and I’m afraid my boot decided that was an opportune time to give out. He said you all could fix the soles?”
The man grinned and nodded. “Si! Si! We can fix both of your boots up by noon if you’d like?”
“Oh! That’d be perfect!” he paused. “Though, these are my only shoes. I don’t really wanna walk all the way back to my friend’s barefoot,” he added sheepishly.
That made the man laugh again, which made Johnny smile embarrassedly. He has a nice laugh though. What? Why did he think that?
“Well, I’m sure Mamá Imelda wouldn’t mind if you sat inside and waited. Just do not touch a thing. She is very…” he trailed off, trying to think of the word.
“Stubborn?” Johnny offered.
“Yeah! That!” the man exclaimed. “Sorry, English isn’t my first language, and my brother is much better at it than myself.”
“No, it’s alright, sir.” Johnny started, only to be cut off.
“Felipe. You can call me Felipe.”
Johnny smiled, filing the name away.
“Okay…Felipe. Well, your English is almost perfect, much better than my Spanish. I knew I shouldn’t have taken French in school.” Johnny chuckled.
Felipe also laughed. Score.
“Well, maybe we can teach each other one day, gringo.” Felipe smirked. Johnny was about to reply when Felipe opened the door. “Come on, let’s fix up those boots.”
Jonny blinked, before laughing and following him inside.
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The smell of leather and shoe polish was strong in the Rivera’s small workspace. Everything was old, but high quality. And there were only three employees! The one Felipe referred to as Mamá Imelda seemed to be the head honcho. Johnny could feel the independence and intimidation from Imelda. It reminded him much of his own sisters.
Felipe’s brother, Õscar, also just so happened to be his identical twin. That was something you think he’d mention. Though, Johnny thought it was pretty easy to tell them apart. Their mustaches were different and Felipe had a beauty mark on his left cheek. A small, yet important difference.
He liked watching them all work. They worked as a team, each worker doing their respective task with ease and efficiency, even if they seemed to be relatively new to this. He had no doubts they would fix his boots and they’d be good quality.
Felipe soon stood from where he sat and beamed at his work, soon picking the boots up and walking over to Johnny.
“Good as new!” he proclaimed.
Johnny smiled and took the boots, looking at them. Not with skepticism, but with fascination.
The soles were brand spanking new on both boots, sewn with care, and held on strongly. Felipe has buffed out all the scratches and washed them until they shined. They even had new shoelaces! Ones that could handle dirt and long shifts.
“Wow. You practically made me new boots!” Johnny joked. “They look new! I’m gonna feel bad wearing them to work now.” Even so, he started to put the boots on.
“Well, we Rivera’s pride ourselves in our work. Our shoes have never been made wrong or broken because of flimsiness. Mamá Imelda makes sure of that.”
Johnny hummed, tying his shoelaces before standing. Wow, what magic did this family hold? He’s never gonna be able to get shoes in America again.
“How much do I owe you three?”
“Nothing,” Felipe replied.
Johnny blinked.
“...Nothing?”
“Nothing. On the house. That’s how it’s said, right?” Felipe mumbled to himself.
“Yeah, that’s how it’s said…But you don’t want anything for this? I have to pay you all.”
Felipe waved him off. “Nah, like I said, on the house. But only if you tell everyone in America about how great our shoes are.”
Johnny thought about it before grinning.
“Deal.”
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It was eight o’clock when Felipe finally got around to cleaning his workstation in the shop, Õscar sweeping. The silence wasn’t awkward but comforting.
Before long though, Õscar broke the silence.
“Did it have to be a gringo?” he questioned.
“What?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t though?”
“Did you have to fall in love with an American? Especially a ginger one?” Õscar finally asked, but the smile on his face gave away that he was just messing with his brother.
Felipe blushed darkly and exaggeratedly rolled his eyes.
“I’ve only seen him once, I’m not in love,” he stated.
‘They both knew he was lying.
“I know you’re thanking whatever God above that we went to school in New Mexico and they taught us English,” Õscar said smugly.
“If you don’t get back to work, I’m telling Imelda,” he threatened.
Õscar laughed and got back to work.
Felipe was doomed.
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