Come Find Me

Serafina’s POV:

I could smell the sharp, sulfurous sting of gunpowder in the air and felt the smoke from hundreds of rifles and cannons stab my eyes. There was also the metallic stench of blood somewhere in the mix. It was so unbearably overpowering that I had to close my eyes and cover my nose with the sleeve of my gown. When I opened them again, I watched in horror as the California 100—of whom my Charles was one—charged bravely into the fray, giving the Confederates Hell. But there were casualties on both sides—heavy casualties. I feared for the life of my beloved Charlie. Little did I know that my fears would come true as I watched three bullets strike Charlie down.

“Charlie!” I screamed as I ran, my lungs, throat, and legs burning with fatigue. “Charlie!”

I skidded to a stop and knelt by his side, cradling his broken body in my arms. It was such a stark contrast. I was warm and full of life, he was already growing cold. He was at Death’s door, standing on the edge of eternity.

“Serafina,” he whispered with great difficulty and a coughing fit. Blood spurted and spilled from his mouth like a crimson fountain and his body shook. “Serafina... My sweet wingless seraph...”

“Ssssshhhhh,” I said, kissing the top of his head. “Ssssshhhhh... Don’t speak now, mi amor. Just rest.”

“Come... Come find me,” he said in between gulps of air and coughing fits. “I’ll wait for you in the next...life...and...in a thousand...other...lives. My sweet...my sweet Serafina.”

With one last exhale, he closed his eyes and his head lolled back, freeing his soul from his fleshly prison. In all that chaos, I wailed like La Llorona weeping for her children in the middle of that battlefield as I rocked Charlie’s lifeless body back and forth, hugging him close to me. I never wanted to let go, but I knew I had to. I wiped the blood from the corners of his mouth and kissed him one last time as I sobbed softly. Suddenly, in the middle of gunfire and cannons booming, I heard Tony Bennett’s crooning voice sing “I Left My Heart In San Francisco”.

I woke up to the radio blaring that sweet ballad over the airwaves and turned to face the clock. Its glaring red numbers proudly announcing it was 6:00 in the morning. Just great. Another day on the hamster wheel. I was only twenty-four and but I was already tired of the rat race of life. Surely there had to be something more than this. With a sigh, I turned the radio off, got out of bed, padded to the bathroom to brush my teeth, shave my legs, and take a shower. After accomplishing all that, I went back to my room to get dressed. I hated putting on that uniform, but I had to. It was my job. And I had to be good at it or I wouldn’t eat. Speaking of eating, I thought of grabbing a quick bite before leaving my apartment that morning for my shift at The Brass Monkey but then decided against it. I could just have breakfast on my way to work. As I rode the bus to work, I couldn’t help but wonder about my dream. I went back to it over and over and over again, trying to piece it together and make sense of it all. None of it made sense! What was that about? What did it all mean? It didn’t feel like a dream at all. In fact, it felt so real, like a life that I lived before. But I couldn’t let myself get distracted by such thoughts. I had a job to do, and to do it efficiently, I had to push out—or push under—any distractions. It was going to be a long day.

Charlie’s POV:

Every once in a while, I could hear the distant retort of gunfire and cannon fire as both sides exchanged shots. I could hear the constant ack-ack-ack of our Gatling guns and the screams of wounded or dying soldiers, both Union and Confederate. I opened my eyes to find myself in a hospital tent, my brothers in arms and I lying on beds in a row. My left side throbbed and I instinctively covered it with my right hand.

“You should be letting that heal, Mr. Covington,” Dr. Cook said as he entered the tent. He was the man who saved my life, operating on me for nearly nine hours, or so I’ve been told. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been trampled by a herd of bison,” I replied with a groan. “And shot multiple times by the Apache.”

“It’s encouraging to see your sense of humor is still intact, Mr. Covington.” Dr. Cook said. “It’s a miracle you survived your ordeal. We thought we would lose you, and yet here you are—a true testament to your resilience. Only one more week and you’ll be as good as new. Just be sure your wounds do not get infected. If you feel anything off, let me know immediately.”

“Very well, Doctor,” I assured him. “I will do exactly as you ordered.”

“That’s all I can ask, Mr. Covington,” Dr. Cook said. “And get plenty enough rest.”

“I will,” I said with a nod. “By the way, was there by any chance a woman with me on the battlefield?”

“No, sir,” Dr. Cook answered. “No woman whatsoever. We found you pinned under a dead Confederate soldier.”

“Thank you,” I said with a sigh.

How strange! I swear to the highest heaven, I thought I heard my sweet Serafina’s voice and saw her running to comfort me. If what Dr. Cook says is true and there was no woman on the battlefield at all, well then! It must have been some fever dream that I conjured up in my delirious state.

Days passed and I grew stronger little by little. My wounds were slowly healing and I was more like my old self once again—almost. On the fifth day of my second week of recovery, a letter came from home. It was from my sister Josephine and she wrote to inform me of all that had transpired at home while I was here fighting this bloody civil war. She said that a malign influence was infecting Father like a fast-spreading disease—a dangerous “friend” who had wormed his way into the family. She also said that Serafina was wasting away, getting weaker and weaker every day. She refuses to eat. She refuses to drink. She refuses to go outside or see anyone. What’s more, Don Joaquin had made plans to marry her off to a friend’s son. I folded Josephine’s letter up and sprang out of bed, determined to leave Virginia for San Francisco. I took my leave of General Sheridan and was granted permission to go home with an escort. As soon as I reached San Francisco, the first thing I did was to look for my beloved Serafina. I made my way to Don Joaquin’s hacienda to look for her, but a servant said that she’d left the house.

“Where is she headed?” I asked, pulling the poor man by the collar of his shirt. “Where?”

“She said she was going to the cliff where you first m-m-m-m-m-met!” the servant said. “That’s...that’s all I know, I swear! Lo siento, señor! She left a note!”

Without a word of thanks, I grabbed the note from the young man’s trembling hand and jumped on my horse, immediately riding off to our familiar spot. Sure enough, there she was, precariously perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the deep blue waters of the Pacific. I jumped off my horse and ran towards her. Apparently, she had received false information that I had been killed in action at Harpers Ferry and she despaired. She no longer wanted to live without me in her life.

“Serafina!” I screamed. “Serafina, stop! It’s me, your Charlie! I’m alive, I’m here! It’s me!”

She turned and saw me, her eyes growing wide in shock. She gasped and was about to make her way to me when her foot slipped and she lost her balance, falling off the cliff and into the warm waters of the Pacific below. I screamed as I watched her plunge to her death in horror while my heart shattered into a billion little pieces. I could swear, however, that I heard her voice whispering to me in the wind.

“Come find me,” she seemed to say. “Corazon, mi amor...”

“I’ll find you, Corazon,” I whispered as I tossed and turned in my sleep. “I’ll find you.”

And with that, I shot bolt upright in bed, shaking and covered in sweat. I checked my phone. 6:00 AM. I slept through my 5:00 alarm. How I could have totally missed that, I don’t know. Normally, I would work out before taking a shower, but since I was running late, I decided to forego the exercise. I showered, shaved, brushed my teeth, then I went down to the kitchen to make myself a protein shake while checking the news and the stock market. I had a bunch of meetings today and I couldn’t afford to mess any of those up, especially my lunch meeting with Edward Sterling at The Brass Monkey. Covington Enterprises and Sterling Technologies have long been rivals, much like LexCorp and Wayne Enterprises, like The Daily Planet and The Daily Bugle. Edward Sterling and I both thought it was time to bury the hatchet. I proposed a merger and he and his people accepted. I will be meeting with him today to finalize our companies’ merger. From here on out, we will be known as Covington-Sterling Industries. I had no time to ponder the meaning of my dream from last night. I had duties to fulfill. Try as I might, however, I couldn’t get the image of this woman’s face out of my head. Who was she and how are we connected? It felt as if I had known her all my life. But I don’t know any woman by the name of Serafina. Or so I thought. Little did I know that everything would be made clear at my lunch meeting.

Serafina’s POV:

Lunch hour was always rush hour at The Brass Monkey. It was always our most crowded time and our busiest. Breakfast has light activity and dinner has medium. Emotions always ran high at lunch. You had to get everything right. There was no room for mistakes. Several of my former coworkers have been fired during the lunch hour, some even leaving in tears. Our boss, Ernest, was a hardass. But as long as you do your job right, you’ll be fine. Plus, he only gets like this during lunch. He’s still strict overall, but he’s mellow during breakfast and dinner hours. Some would even say almost kind. Sort of like that line from Matchmaker in Fiddler on the Roof. You heard he has a temper. He’ll beat you every night, but only when he’s sober, so you’re alright. And just like that, the shouting and yelling begins! Gordon Ramsay mode activated!

“You! Benavente!” Ernest screeched. “Table number 12! You do not want to keep them waiting! What are you standing round about for, people? Move, move, move, move, move! I don’t pay you to chat each other up, I pay you to keep our customers satisfied!”

As I made my way to table number 12, my heart stop and my breath hitched in my throat. I almost dropped my pad and pen. There he was at a booth, the man in my dreams. Charles, or Charlie… I couldn’t believe my eyes! Was this another dream? Why do I keep seeing this guy everywhere—in my dreams and in my waking life? I resolved to steel myself, however, and get it over with.

“Welcome to The Brass Monkey, gentlemen,” I said, clicking my pen on and off nervously. “My name is Serafina and I’ll be your server today. Can I get you two anything to start? Appetizers?”

“This is actually our first time here,” Charlie—my handsome Union soldier—said, looking up at me. God, those piercing blue eyes! “What would you recommend for a first timer?”

“Our onion rings are the best,” I suggested. “You could get a platter of onion rings to share.”

“We’ll do that, yeah,” Charlie said. “And I’ll have a Deluxe Burger.”

“And for you, sir?” I asked, turning to his companion.

“I’ll have a T-bone steak, medium rare,” Charlie’s friend ordered.

“Would you each like a glass of wine to go with your meal?” I asked.

“Yes, please,” Charlie’s friend answered. “What do you recommend?”

“Our cabernet sauvignon pairs well with red meat like the Deluxe Burger and the T-bone steak,” I said.

“Perfect,” Charlie piped up. “We’ll have a bottle of that then.”

“Excellent,” I said with a smile. He smiled back and I almost fainted. What is wrong with me?

“Thank you, Serafina,” he said, handing me the menus.

“You’re welcome,” I said, breathless. “I’m sorry… Who are you?”

“I’m Charles,” Charlie said. “But Charlie to my friends and family. You can call me Charlie too, if you want.”

“I’m Edward,” Charlie’s friend said, interrupting. “My apologies for my friend here, he’s a huge flirt. Doesn’t know when to stop. Isn’t that right, Charlie?”

“That’s alright,” I said with an amused chuckle. “I think it’s cute. I can see flattery is his strong suit.”

Holy cow! Since when did I become a flirt? What is this? What the Hell was going on? In any case, the moment I saw my handsome Union soldier, I knew my day was going to get better. What was that song by Savage Garden? I knew I loved you before I met you. I think I dreamed you into life. I knew I loved you before I met you. I have been waiting all my life.

Charlie’s POV:

Edward and I had lunch at The Brass Monkey and we talked about our final plans for the merger and the unveiling ceremony, but I couldn’t concentrate too well. Every chance I got, I snuck a glance at our server. Her name was Serafina and she was the woman from my dream. Could she be a long-lost love? Someone from my distant past? This was getting stranger and stranger, but I didn’t mind. I was also quite intrigued by it all.

At the end of the meal, I ordered dessert just so I could see Serafina again. And then after dessert, coffee. When we ran out of things to try, I finally asked for the bill. I paid with my credit card and handed it her. Our hands brushed briefly and I swear I felt a spark. There was something about her touch. She felt it too, and we both withdrew at the same time, feeling like a couple of shy preteens discovering crushes for the first time. Very unprofessional of me, I know. But I didn’t care at the time. Serafina later returned with the receipt and I smiled as I read what was written on the back. She wrote her number: 414-555-0195.

Underneath it, she wrote, “Come find me, Corazon. Mi amor.”