Prism - By Rachel Moschell Page 0,8

climbing up the foothills to the lavender peaks beyond. Cochabamba was sunny and bustling, infused with a rainbow of flowers and the smell of smog.

This city was her home for six years, and Wara Cadogan loved it.

Back in downtown Cochabamba a week after the trip to the mountains, Wara entered Café Amara wearing a green hippy dress over jeans and beat-up leather sandals. The air was infused with coffee and cinnamon and vanilla icing and Noah was already up front, tuning his honey-colored Taylor guitar. Every Friday he and a group of friends did live music at the downtown coffee shop his church owned. Noah threw Wara a wave and she plopped down into a chair, ready to drink lots of coffee and rest after long day at the AIDS center with Nazaret and her mom, Noly.

A swish of fabric drew her attention to the tiny Quechua lady at her side, holding a tray of empanadas. Wara’s mouth started to water at the sight of browned pastries, perfectly crimped edges embracing a center of melted cheese.

“Doña Filomena, you know I can’t resist empanadas,” she told the older lady in Quechua. “Thank you. How are you doing these days?” Doña Filomena had a bent back and wrinkled skin that crinkled like parchment, especially around the eyes. Wara had never seen her without two thin gray braids twisted into a bun at the back of her head, and Filomena always wore a thick navy blue cardigan over her lacy white blouse. She was always thrilled to talk with a foreigner in her native Quechua.

“Just fine, I’m doing fine.” Filomena patted Wara on the shoulder, grasped her forearm delicately, and then patted again in the traditional Quechua greeting. “I tell you, the Lord is healing me of my arthritis. I just pray, I’m always praying, and I know that the Lord is helping me feel better every day.”

O-kay. Wonderful.

Wara fought not to arch an eyebrow. The lady’s faith was…nice. But she knew about the gigantic megachurch Doña Filomena was a part of, and all the speaking in tongues and mad tambourine playing that went on in that place honestly freaked Wara out.

But who was she to judge, right?

“I’m glad you’re feeling better. And thanks for the empanada.” The older lady nodded with smiling, crinkly eyes and headed back towards the kitchen. Just as Tiago pushed his way through the café door, sending little chimes dinging.

Tiago was a guy of maybe nineteen with a boyish smile and black baggy jeans with chains. He was skinny as a rail and Wara wondered when the kid ever ate. The reason she knew Tiago was because he was usually found smoking with a boyfriend outside the door of the neighboring coffee shop, Café Paris, known for catering to homosexuals.

He grinned at her when he saw her, showing off the metal stud in his tongue. Another guy Wara had never seen before was trailing Tiago into Café Amara, and the two of them stopped in front of Wara’s table.

“Hey, there,” Tiago drew out the greeting with a sly smile. Noah meandered over to say hi to the guys too, still carrying his Taylor guitar. “This is my new friend Rudolf, from Germany,” Tiago grinned. “He’s over here studying Spanish, and I told him you guys were nice. How’s it going Noah?” Tiago shook Noah’s hand and Wara took in the new guy. Rudolf had a very clean-shaven German jaw and wore a preppy gray sweater and dark jeans. He also shook Noah and Wara’s hands with a grin, going on about what a great city Cochabamba was.

“And one of the coolest coffee shops here is where you’re standing right now, my friend,” Tiago jumped in. “This girl right here, Wara? She is always making me up free food from the kitchen. Nachos, little pizzas…her quesadillas rock.” He punched Wara in the shoulder, then turned his attention to Noah.

“So, we’re hanging out next door, but we thought we’d come over and see if you wanted to have a drink with us. You’re not singing til later, right?”

Noah blinked. “Uh, sure. We could have a drink. It’s only 9 now, right?”

Alarm bells were going on in Wara’s heard. Noah’s eyes were friendly and clueless, and he probably wouldn’t be able to tell if someone was flirting with him to save his life.

“I’ll come with you,” she offered, trying not to grit her teeth.

“Sure, Wara, that’d be great.” Noah smiled at her so warmly her knees actually went weak. But then