And This Is Your Opinion Of Me? Chapter 3
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Per vós me só mes en amar
e mon ull no em vol descobrir;
molt menys la llengua voldrà dir
ço que el gest no gosa mostrar.
For you, I have started to love
and my eyes won't give me away
less so my tongue will want to say
what my actions don't dare to show.
Ausiàs March, Ja no esper que sia amat
Easter -spring break -or any kind of holiday that lasts longer than a weekend, means a massive exodus from our flats. They feel especially empty if Dídac leaves -he really makes a lot of noise. You can’t imagine how quiet and clean it is without him.
That evening it was only him, mom, Julia and me, so we had family dinner at the girls’. Mom and Dídac were leaving early next morning. She was going to Paris with her latest boyfriend, and Dídac was heading home with my uncle and aunt. Julia and I were in high spirits -we were to have the whole floor to ourselves, for a week!
Dídac was telling mom of the latest haircut he had seen, and who knows what else -though I have to say she always listens to him. She would like me to be more like him, against all possible logic. Dídac is more handsome than I, and he also took better care of his appearance. He’s kind of a metrosexual. He even waxes his legs, seriously. Mom, who has never been in his room, associates this with cleanliness. And she sees something very masculine in his long string of conquests. Also, I resemble dad too much, I guess. Not only in looks. I’m on good terms with him -while Julia is actually not.
This sounds a bit resentful, doesn’t it? I’m alright. She loves me, I love her, we just would like to change each other in more than one way. And I would really appreciate it if she would stop talking about dad in front of Julia and me.
Ahem.
So… As Dídac and mom were talking over tomato salad, I was good-humoredly telling Julia about my last clash with Isabel.
As luck had it, I had barely seen Isabel lately. One day I missed the class we shared, and then she disappeared for a whole week. Charlie said she was visiting her brother in Scotland. So we only saw each other in one class before spring break, but she managed to piss me off anyway. She didn’t eavesdrop at all but, during the lesson, Professor Quesada kept asking her her thoughts on the eclogue we were commenting. Why? Because, apparently, her granddad is Carlos José de Burgos.
OK, I can see you are not getting it. Carlos José de Burgos might be THE specialist on Baroque Poetry. The guy is awesome. Also, a rumored monster. Which would explain his grand-daughter’s airs and personality.
And, sure, she said intellingent things, and even looked a bit flustered at the attention. But still. Professor Quesada is mine. We’ve got this nice master/padawan routine since my first year. He had even offered me his support, should I want to do a PhD. Which I didn’t think I wanted to do, but still.
And maybe her being someone’s grand-daughter wasn’t her fault, OK. But afterwards, as we were gathering our things to go -she had sat by me in first row, don’t know why -she asked out of nowhere:
“What are you doing your paper on?”
“Catalan influence on Garcilaso de la Vega’s poetry.”
“Is there such a thing?”
…gah. I looked up at her. She was sorting her pens by color. She looked strangely efficient in her tight but sober clothes. Turtlenecks, pencils skirts, you know. She was always far too dressed up for class.
She had a grey cloth flower pinned to her braid, next to one tiny ear, which distracted me. I imagine that’s why her comment didn’t nettle me much.
“Well, yeah. Ausiàs March.” Of which she hadn’t heard, obviously. Her loss. I rose and stretched, thinking the conversation was over.
“Fine. I’ll be doing Petrarchist influence, then. And may the best man win. Or girl,” she added, with the slightest smile.
I frowned mid-stretch, unable to believe her. “Is that a challenge?”
She pressed her lips, her smile tightening the corners of her mouth, and shouldered her big purse, apparently thinking yet -I was sure -actually taking her time to make me nervous. It didn’t last much, but it worked. In the end she stared at me, slightly flushed and holding her notebook to her chest with her free arm.
“Yes, I think it is. We both want the highest mark, don’t we?” Only then did she start walking towards the door, but turned around halfway. “And do pass me your paper afterwards -I am curious to know who this March was.”
At this point of the tale, Julia started laughing at me.
“But David, that’s only fair play!” she objected, merrily shaking her head at me. “I can’t see what’s so wrong about her wanting to be top of the class.”
“It’s just so… conceited! Not the fact that she wants to beat me. It’s her daring to challenge me, really. Who does she think she is?” I was chuckling too, although I had been quite incensed about it in the morning.
“What are you laughing about?” Mom said, smiling at us curiously.
“David is competing with this girl from Madrid.”
“The scary one?” Said Dídac. He held his hand to highfive, and I complied. “Man, she’s gonna gorge your eyes out.”
“Dídac!” yelped mom, all disgusted. “We are having dinner!”
“What! It’s true! She’s a psycopath!”
“That’s no reason to speak like that when we are eating! Oooh, I’ve lost my appetite, thank you very much. I can’t eat anymore. I won’t. Anyway I’m too fat. I should start a diet, I look twice my age…”
Julia passed me mom’s plate and I served her her share of sausages. She says something like that every evening, so we don’t take much notice. She recovers her appetite as soon as she forgets she had lost it.
As I returned her the plate, and mom complained, Julia’s cell started to play Coldplay’s Viva la vida. My sister always uses a different ringtone for special people. I had the feeling Charlie was calling, judging by the way she perked up and ran from the room -she’s always forgetting her cell around, so she always has to find it before picking up. Once she left it at home and, when I tried to call her, I made the disturbing discovery she had chosen Paulina Rubio’s Ni una sola palabra as my ringtone. I have never dared to ask her why, but really, what the hell?
When she returned to the table several minutes later, her sausages were cold; Dídac had stolen one of them and was at the moment trying to convince us that Julia had said he could eat her rice pudding. Julia makes it on special occasions. It’s delicious. And Dídac was so not going to get Julia’s bowl.
“Charlie has invited us to his sister’s cottage in Vall de Boí. To visit the Romanesque churches. I said I could go from Thursday to Saturday, David, do you mind? Will you come?”
“No way. And I don’t mind, as long as you are back on Sunday to eat our Easter cake.”
Wow, I wasn’t expecting Charlie to make a move so soon. Good for him, really. Trees, blossoming rosemary, wild flowers, sheeps, chirping birds waking you up at dawn… I couldn’t think of a more romantic place. Maybe the seaside. But it was too cold for that, anyway.
Julia hugged me across the table as she placed her bowl further from Dídac’s grasp. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll be here Saturday night at the very last.”
Once upon a time, the traditional easter cake was a simple brioche with a boiled egg on top. Then the egg became a chocolate egg, which, in my opinion, was a great idea. And now we top a fancy cake with an enormous and artistic chocolate construction. Castles, cars, cartoon characters, anything you can think of is made of chocolate, put on the cake and given as a present to children.
Julia and I are kids at heart. It’s been more than ten years since we started our own tradition: during lent, we’d save money to buy the biggest and prettiest chocolatey thing we could get. And then, on Sunday, we’d eat it all and be high on sugar and, eventually, sick.
“I can’t believe Caro has a house in Vall de Boí, though,” I said, returning to my pudding.
“Oh, it’s their older sister’s, actually. Her name is Louisa, she’s very nice. Caro will be there too, and so will Isabel.”
OK, then it was definite. I wasn’t going.
“Are you visiting those rich friends of yours, then, dearie?” My mom has an obsession with rich people. She thinks we should ‘cultivate friendships in high circles’. Considering Julia is studying Anthropology to go study lost tribes in Africa and I plan to become a highschool teacher in less than two years, I don’t think my mom’s plan makes much sense.
“Um, yes.”
“Ooh, how nice. You should stay ‘til Monday, then. Don’t worry about your brother. In fact, you should take him. He needs to get out. I’m sure you could introduce him to some of your girl friends. They sound delightful.”
Yes, my mom knows my sister has more influence over me than she does. So she’s always trying to make her make me do things. She’s so obvious about it, I usually take it as a joke.
“The brunette’s a psycopath” piped Dídac, going through the cupboards to check if the girls appartment had any chocolate left.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Julia eyed me dubiously, knowing I was, for once, in agreement with Dídac.
“Very sure. You take the car, I won’t use it at all.”
“No, no.” My mom sounded appalled. You see, the car is new. It’s an enormous thing resembling a Land Rover, product of her midlife crisis. There’s lots of them in Barcelona. None of them looks like it has actually been roving any land. And most of them are driven by women around their forties. “You can’t take the car, you’ve only had your licence for three months!”
I started to protest, but Julia yielded way too easily. As she usually does.
“It’s alright, I’ll take the train and they’ll get me at the station. I’m too scared to drive all the way.”
“You see? And this way, you can stay if you want and they will drive you home. I really think you should stay the whole week, if you could. And David should go too. David, you could take your sister with your motorbike. So you both could stay until Monday.”
“Don’t want to intrude, mom. And I always spend this Sunday with David.” With me and chocolate enough for a party of fifteen. Last year we melted the last of the huge chocolate Tweety we had bought and had chocolate fondue for dinner. Then we couldn’t sleep and spent the whole night giggling -and groaning, once the stomachaches kicked in.
“Do as you wish. You always do whatever you want in the end,” said mom, without an ounce of resignation. “I hope it rains and you stay there. You obviously don’t know what’s good for you.”
I smiled at Julia. Maybe she would stay, after all, with Charlie and the rosemary and the chirping birds. She deserved to. I was going to tell her that, but I saw from the corner of my eye Dídac was slinking away from the kitchen. And it was HIS turn to clean up.
So I guess that’s how it was decided Julia would go to Louisa’s ski retreat by train, and she would go alone.
***
From: Izzy Díaz
To: Jorge Díaz
Subject: Vacaciones I
Dear J,
I'm so sorry I haven't written before. I figured out I would take maximum profit of the three days I had before Julia arrived, and Charlie relegated me to second place and went all mushy on her, forgetting all about me.
You see, C and Caro invited Julia and David, but only Julia was up for it. I don't blame David. But that left me with one couple-to-be and Caro, Hugo and Louisa. Hugo was Louisa's snowboard teacher before being her second husband. He is only interested in extreme sports he can no longer practice due to a heart condition. He spends the day eating and sleeping. And Louisa is an older version of Caroline, only she has had a nose job and her hair is dyed even blonder. She just loves playing Perfect Hostess, but she isn't actually very good at it...
So, even if the house is quaint, the surroundings are agreable, my best friend is here and there's wireless connection to the internet, it didn't look like it would be so much fun once Julia came. That is why I thought I'd write to you now. C and I went on a nature walk on Monday, horseback riding with Caro on Tuesday and spent a rainy Wednesday playing foosball and pool at the local bar.
Yet, luckily for me, Thursday has proven to be misfortunate yet lively. Julia arrived last evening by train, and had to wait for us to go get her at the station, because her cell phone was uncharged and she couldn't call before getting there. It was raining, the station is drafty, and she got so wet, poor girl, she woke up this morning having caught the cold to end all colds.
Which is not fun, I know. She wasn't having a great time. Also, I do share a room with her, and with all her coughing and my getting her glasses of water and another blanket and such, it wasn't the most restful of nights. She is very sweet, but I was relieved when Charlie woke up and I could leave the nursing to him and go sleep in his bed.
The entertaining part is the one that comes now:
We were all downstairs except C and Julia, who were in her room watching a movie in my laptop. We were having breakfast at noon, because Louisa had woken up at half past eleven and insisted on making pancakes. We heard an engine ouside the house and Louisa ran to check on whoever it was through the window. She said it was a man, on a motorbike. She opened the door. Caro choked on her yoghurt. It was…
David Benet. A very untidy David Benet. Leather jacket, sweaty t-shirt, muddy mountain boots, you can imagine.
We gaped at him, and he said, carefully taking his mountain boots off so he wouldn’t muddle the floor:
David: Hi. I’m sorry I came like this, I do not mean to… How is my sister doing?
Caro and Louisa were still looking at him up and down, up and down.
Me: Upstairs. Still a bit feverish.
Charlie appeared in the landing and smiled, obviously expecting him. Because Julia and he had called David earlier in the day, but since it was to be a short visit he hadn’t thought of telling us.
He could have. I would so not have been wearing my pyjamas.
And anyway, what was he doing there? So his sister had a cold, was feverish, had called him. So what? Was he a doctor, on top of being a literature student? Isn’t it weird, he came all this way to see his sister?
Never mind. Right after we heard the door of Julia’s room close behind them, Louisa and Caro started prattling like startled birds: What did he mean by coming all this way? And his boots? Had Caro seen his boots? Six inches deep in mud! And his hair! So untidy and tousled! He hadn’t even shaved! He looked almost wild! Caro hoped Luoisa had noticed his t-shirt, he must have slept in it! Was it not way too tight?
You might think they were upset. They were not. They were so not. They were giggling, all delirious with excitement because a disheveled over-attentive brother had appeared on their doorstep. And fine, it had been a surprise, and I will go as far as to say a pleasant surprise. But Louisa’s married, and Hugo was there, even if admittedly not paying much attention. Not to mention Caro. She seemed to believe he had come solely for her.
Her silly infatuation has been my entertainment today, although it is a bit worrying how self-absorbed she can be. She chases after him all the time, and he is apparently oblivious to her attentions. She is always touching his arm, trying to make conversation, laughing when she shouldn’t, admiring his brotherly sacrifice in coming here, or simply preening herself when he is within sight or earshot. You should totally see her, it’s priceless.
And at this moment, Julia must be the most well-attended convalescent in Spain. She’s got her brother, her admirer, her brother’s admirer and Perfect Hostess fussing all over her and completely at her disposal. She has to get well soon, no matter how feverish she was this morning. So don’t make me feel guilty at drawing pleasure from the circumstances.
I have to go now -dinner is ready. David made a big potato omelette and some pasta salad for dinner. Yes, Perfect Hostess lets her guests feel that they are intruding and have to compensate their stay. I have to say I admire how Louisa has managed not to clean one dish in the four days we’ve been here. I bet you she won’t clean up today, either.
¡Guapo! Te quiero.
Isa.
***
So there I was. In a house too big to be called a cottage, with my lovely yet runny-nosed sister, a doting and concerned Charlie, an effusive Caroline I didn’t understand, their scary sister, an apathetic ex-ski tutor, and Isabel -who kept staring at me from behind her laptop while I cooked dinner. Had she never seen anyone cook a Spanish omelette?
I make them really good, though, so maybe it was the smell. I thought she stared because she didn’t like it, but later I noticed she had a second helping. Still, I didn’t care enough to wonder. I was on edge all the time.
They had been very nice to me, so I didn’t actually have a cause for complain, but I still didn’t feel comfortable. Charlie had lended me clothes after I took a shower, and had also proposed that I should stay for a few days. Louisa, Caroline and Julia all insisted they wanted me to, and I was already there, so I said I would.
But still, I didn’t think Julia needed me that much, with Charlie there, and the rest of them kind of got on my nerves. I had the feeling Louisa and Caroline were expecting something from me, Isabel was laughing at me and Hugo didn’t care at all whether I was there.
I didn’t know what to do after Charlie and I finished cleaning up, since Julia was already asleep and the rest had started playing Uno. Charlie joined them, and I got my copy of Garcilaso’s rhymes from my backpack and tried to read again. There is something very reassuring about reading a poem you have already descyphered. So I tried to hear the rythm of the sonnets inside my head, but failed. Caroline wouldn’t stop talking, even if -thankfully -she wasn’t talking to me, because my sofa was behind her chair.
“And how is your brother, Izzy? Where did you say he was?”
“Boarding school in Scotland,” came the laconic answer, along with “Reverse.”
“Why hasn’t he come back for spring break? He’s so sensitive, isn’t he. I dare say he will be very homesick.”
Hugo reminded her it was actually her turn, and apparently she complied and played for two seconds, only to start again:
“Did you two fight?”
OK, I have to admit I wasn’t reading anymore. My eyes were fixed on the first verse, “While roses and lilies”, and I was actually listening in very attentively.
“No,” said Isabel, clearly annoyed. “But my dad isn’t in town, and he saw me last week.”
“Isabel and Jorge don’t fight. She is the best of sisters, unlike others I could name,” said Charlie, in good humour.
“I’d say that’s because Jorge is a good brother. He is always so polite, so charming. And so talented. I’m sure he will grow up to be a very interesting, accomplished man.”
“Why, that is hardly a praise at all. Draw two, Caro.”
“What do you mean? Draw two, Hugo.”
“Mierda,” said Hugo, having to draw four. By this time I had already kneeled on the sofa, and the only thing that prevented me from talking was the fact that Charlie had switched the conversation to English, and I’m quite shy about my spoken English.
Yeah, well, I have to be shy about something. The fact I’m writing this for all of you to read doesn’t make me inmune to backwardness.
“Everyone is interesting in their own way. And accomplished, too. I’m sure anyone can be quite cool once you get to know them,” said Charlie. It was a very Charlie-ish way to think about people. Julia would have agreed with him.
“You are right, interesting is an abused word,” said Isabel, studying her cards and dropping one, “We use it too much, and it has lost its true meaning. I think I only know about half a dozen truly, completely accomplished people our age, and I personally believe only accomplished people can be authentically interesting.”
“Half a dozen? Only?” While I was sure Isabel couldn’t have many friends, I was so shocked by her unkind remark I just had to barge in. With scarcely four words, yes. But I said them with lots of feeling and lots of Spanish accent.
“Interesting people are so hard to come by” said Caroline, blinking at me in a disturbing way.
I have to say, I was beginning to suspect she was flirting with me. I was trying to let her know I wasn’t interested in the most delicate way possible. She wasn’t taking my hints, though.
She was… too sly for my taste. She seemed false in her praises, her friendship, her way of dressing, and the disheveled bun that had probably taken her at least half an hour to get right. Also, she was pretty, but too skinny to be nice to look at.
I mean. Julia is thin, but not because she is on a diet or anything. She just has a doe-like slenderness that looks soft and natural. Whereas Caro only eats low-fat yoghourts. I swear it’s true. And she is… bony. She and Louisa looked like starved models, which I am sure is very elegant, but necessitates a very disappointing lack of curves. Isabel was far more appealing, even if I thought her to be a heartless, bitter bitch.
Er, yes, back to the story:
“What are the requirements for being accomplished and interesting, in your opinion, then?” The question, only slightly mocking, was meant for Isabel, but it was Caroline who answered while Isabel looked at us with very serious and very dark eyes.
“Why! Someone accomplished must be successful in their studies and career, speak at least three languages, and be cultured. By cultured I mean he or she must have travelled and have opinions on art, music, cinema, history, spirituality, politics… And they must cultivate at least one of these things, maybe playing an instrument or something. They must take care of their appearance and always be fashionable and stylish. And they must have a certain something in their air and manner of walking, or the word will only be half-deserved.”
As I stared at Caroline and Louisa, who nodded her approval, I could only wonder what world did they live in. How could a sane person expect all these things from someone else, or even themselves? Was this what these girls were trying to accomplish? Was this the reason they seemed so false to me?
“And they must be independent, I think, and able to take care of themselves and those around them, and of doing basic household chores” finished Isabel, looking at me. I got it: she was referring to my potato omelette. Why thank you Isabel, I feel much better now that I know I am partially interesting in your opinion. Because I was so worried.
“I’m no longer surprised you only know half a dozen people our age that are truly accomplished, or whatever. I’m now surprised you know any.”
“Do you doubt the possibility?” said Caroline, with a flirty smile.
“I’ve yet to meet such a person. Are you sure the ones you know aren’t plastic? Kens, Barbies, and such?” I mean, what about selfless people? What about people who cared more about being good and happy than about waxing their legs and doing sit-ups and talking about Kubrick films to show off?
Charlie and Louisa laughed, possibly for different reasons. Caroline giggled and swatted me. Isabel smiled secretively, looking at her cards. And Hugo said: “Are we playing or not?”
They agreed they were playing. So I flopped down to the couch, seeing the conversation had ended, and tried to read. “While roses and lilies…”
***
From: Izzy Díaz
To: Jorge Díaz
Subject: Vacaciones II
I’m still waiting for an answer to my last letter, but since I have fresh news, there you go:
Julia is doing fine, as I predicted, and is right now sitting on the backyard stairs wrapped in a quilt. Charlie is with her, marveling at the fact that they are both twenty-four. I had thought she was younger than David, too. But still. The way he acts, you’d think they are the only twenty-four-years-old people in the world.
We are all outside, since it’s sunny and Julia said she needed some fresh air. As you can see, she is a benevolent ruler. Caro and Louisa are trying to sunbathe as much as the fresh air will let them, while cheering Hugo and David. They are playing rather half-heartedly with a soccer ball.
I’m worried Caro will be the next one to catch a cold. It’s not nearly hot enough yet for the cleavage she’s displaying. I’m so not taking off my scarf.
Oh, wait, wait. David and Hugo have just stopped playing and Caro is approaching D. They have started to walk and she has taken his arm. Will she make her move now?
She is upset with me because I told her to shut up last night. I’ve given up my bed in Julia’s room so David could be there, and Charlie gave up his for me and so now he’s sleeping on the couch. But I’d rather have the couch than bed-time chats with Caro on David’s hotness. So I told her. And now she thinks I’m jealous or something. She switched to jokes on his fine eyes and what it will be like when I marry David.
The girly talk was better, of course. I must learn to shut up.
They are approaching. It’s kind of fun, spying on them live for you.
Caro: Isabel, are you writing to Jorge again? You type so fast.
I’ve answered I type quite slowly. They are passing by again. David is looking at the view, not at Caro.
Caro: Are you including a reflection on fine eyes, Isabel? (to David) She writes wonderful e-mails, full of words of four syllables.
She’s mocking me.
She’s so funny.
They’re back again. David looks like he wants to walk somewhere else, instead of just parading in front of us.
Caro: Aren’t you jealous, Isabel?
Oooh.
Be right back.
Back. I told her I both was and was not. What could I mean?, she wanted to know. David laughingly said he’d rather not ask. But she had to, of course. I said:
Me: I envy you your flirting, because it’s more pleasant than writing an e-mail. But I also think I have a better view of David’s backside from here.
David laughed and disentangled himself, shy at my mention of her flirting -‘cause he hadn’t been flirting back. Caro caught his arm again, all possessive. They had stopped walking.
Caro: Really! You only want to shock us, don’t you? David, how shall we punish her?
David: We could laugh back at her. It usually works.
Caroline said she didn’t dare laugh at me, since I was ever so smart and would surely outwit her. She quite outdid herself with the sarcastic tone. He was jokingly outraged that he could not laugh at me, since he told us he likes to laugh at people’s silliness, and what was he to do if people started outwitting him? Caro replied I was too serious and wise to be laughed at.
She was becoming irritating, really.
David (to me): I am not to laugh with serious matters, so I’ll have to make do without laughing at you. But are you sure you have no faults?
Me: I try hard not to have any that could make me ridiculous.
David: Such as vanity and pride?
See what Caro had managed?
I told him vanity is a fault, but I don’t think pride is, when one has reasons to be proud. He smiled and said I obviously had no faults, then. I protested. I know I’m not especially compliant to other’s wishes. And I can be quite unforgiving, even resentful. As Grandpa says, my good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.
He said that this was something he couldn’t laugh at, and we agreed everyone has their faults.
David: So yours is a propensity to hate everyone.
Me: And yours is wanting to misunderstand them.
He laughed, and poor Caro felt so left out she stomped away, no doubt expecting he’d follow her. He didn’t. He’s sitting with Charlie and Julia now.
And I hope you enjoyed my banter with David, who proved able to outwit me if he wishes. I enjoyed the transcription, and the arguing was fun, too. See? I’m making friends. But don’t expect me to do this with all my conversations! Once you have your PSP back I won’t feel like I need to entertain you.
Take care,
Isabel.
A/N: Thanks to Vicky again; it was around this chapter I promised her a temple and all.
Chapter 4