And This Is Your Opinion Of Me? Chapter 8
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
¿Adónde te escondiste,
Amado, y me dejaste con gemido?
‘Where did you hide,
my Love, and left me in mid-moan?’
San Juan de la Cruz, Cántico espiritual
I woke up when someone stroked my arm. I blinked, noticing the sunlight on nape of my head and the ache in my back-but I had fallen asleep on a plastic chair, so nothing new there.
Julia was sitting in front of me, bare feet dangling from the high hospital bed. The blind made her upper body look lined in grey and gold.
“How are you breathing?” My voice was raspy. She offered me the remains of the bottled water I had gotten her some hours ago, after we’d been shown into the room.
“I’m OK. The nurse that took away the breakfast tray said that a doctor would check if I was alright before we could go home. Maybe before lunch.”
I remembered the nurse who had brought the tray in. So I had slept from nine to-I checked my watch-twenty to noon. “Have you slept?”
“A bit. I’m tired. But I want to go home.”
I stretched. I hurt all over-head, neck, shoulders, stomach, you name it. It would take a while until the doctor came, I guessed. You don’t want to have anything to do with a hospital during San Joan-firecrackers, alcohol, fire and driving don’t make the safest of combinations. The ER room had been packed when we had gotten there. Really, no, it was a madhouse. “I need a coffee,” I said, going into the bathroom to splash water on my face and try to freshen up a bit. My clothes still smelled of cigarettes.
When I gave up trying to feel tidy, Julia was once again lying on the bed, looking, well, like she really didn’t want to be there. I kissed her forehead while re-buttoning my shirt. “I’ll get you a girly magazine with lots of personality tests.” Which I guess was the wrong thing to say, because that’s the kind of thing I did for her back when she had cancer.
She sniffled, not looking at me, and grasped my hand very hard. “I love you.”
I hugged her the best I could, though she didn’t let go of my hand. “I’ll bring you coffee, then. Want me to call mom and dad?”
She shook her head against my chest. “We’ll tell mom if the blood tests are... bad. I don’t care about dad.”
But dad cares about her. It’s hard to explain such resentment in Julia, of all people. She hasn’t held a grudge in her life-and this one isn’t even her grudge. It’s our mother’s.
So it’s true, my dad shouldn’t have left like that, without warning or goodbyes or coming to see us for so long-though he did call. But my mom shouldn’t have cried to her children about how lonely she felt and how unhappy she was. She made us unhappy too, and she made us resentful. And when summer came and mom cried about how much she was going to miss us when we visited dad, I went anyway, and Julia stayed.
It had only got worse since then, to the point Julia and I tried not to talk about it. I guess both she and dad are too passive to ever make a move towards reconciliation-they are quite alike, in fact. They just won’t bulge without proof the other loves them. And so Julia has never been to Granada.
I guess what you actually want to know is why we were in the hospital. Well. Julia fainted, her nose bleeding as it used to during chemo, and I freaked out. The hospital thing was, all of it, my fault, but I don’t see how I could have acted otherwise. As soon as she opened her eyes-lying on the floor, her feet propped up on Charlie’s lap-I said, “I’m taking you to the ER.”
“Yes,” she said, all white and dazed. Everyone was standing around, frozen on the spot, and it was weird because the music had never stopped. Charlie looked frightened, but said he was driving us in Isabel’s car. Isabel just frowned and tossed me the keys.
So I drove, while in the back seat a very scared Julia told a very scared Charlie she had had a cancer and she had no uterus now, and yes that meant she couldn’t have children, and that was why she hated the pictures in the living room in which her hair was short. She rambled, Charlie flipped out, then Julia flipped out too, which made them both talk at once and way too loud, distracting me, and I took the wrong turn and shouted at them, causing Charlie to shut up and Julia to have an asthma crisis.
You should be glad you weren’t in that car.
Though the wheezing stopped as soon as she was treated, which admittedly took a while, because of the people crowding the ER, Julia said it still hurt to breathe. So they gave us a room, to have her under observation. Julia let go of Charlie’s hand-she had been grasping both our hands for hours by then-and told him to go home and get some sleep.
Charlie did go home, but by the time I reached the foyer from the cafeteria, he was already there, pink flowers in hand, Isabel at his side like a moody squire. He looked exhausted, yet was as friendly as ever. We took the lift together, commenting how sick we all looked in the yellowish mirror inside. We hadn’t slept much, of course, but we didn’t say anything about that. He took the flowers and Julia’s coffee to her, and Isabel and I just sat outside the room.
Isabel hadn’t said a word yet. She had been texting someone when I had found her and Charlie before, and she was still at it, writing at high speed, then looking restless while she waited for an answer. Then the cellphone in her hand buzzed and she started typing again.
After a while, she put the phone in her giant shoulder bag and leaned back on her chair, watching Charlie with me as she tapped her foot impatiently. She then got up and paced, blocking my view every once in a while. Not that I was spying on my sister or anything.
There was nothing much to do in the corridor. I watched people walk by us, and Charlie’s face though the window of the room as he talked to Julia. I only saw the shape of Julia’s cheek, though, or her profile if she looked at the flowers instead of at Charlie.
I was sure they would work it out. I was sure they would. They loved each other, right?
And they could always adopt, later on. Charlie did look like he would want to have kids someday.
“When will you know? About the cancer?” That was Isabel’s first question. Not ‘How is Julia’, or ‘How are you’. Charlie had asked that as soon as he saw me, so it wasn’t as if she didn’t know the answer. Though I had only said “fine.” But come on, she hadn’t even said hello.
“We will come back for a blood test tomorrow morning. Then it’s a matter of a few days.” I looked up at her, then back at Charlie. He had now taken Julia’s hand and seemed very earnest. I didn’t try to make out what he was saying. It looked too intimate. So I looked back at Isabel. She was-surprise!-frowning back at me. I was too tired to deal with her disapproval, especially since I had no idea what was bothering her.
“Have you had breakfast?” Couldn’t she see? I raised my coffee a bit, without looking at her. “Can I get you anything else? You should eat something solid,” she continued, sounding like a stern teacher. I shook my head, but she sat down again, next to me, and rummaged through her bag until she found an individual packet of Dinosaurios. She handed it to me.
“They are my brother’s favorites,” she said. “I always have some. In case I, hm, get hungry.” I know, you can’t really dislike someone who always has dinosaur-shaped cookies on them. But I managed just fine.
“How old is he, anyway?”
“He’ll be sixteen soon.”
“Ah. They are good. Thank you.”
I ate. She tapped her foot. She wasn’t wearing her boots. Apparently she had hundreds of delicate-looking sandals, too.
“Charlie told me Julia had cancer when she was seventeen. It must have been hard.”
It had been. I said nothing, though. I really didn’t feel like talking about it, much less to an icy Isabel. It was awkward enough as it was. And I didn’t like her. So of course I wasn’t going to tell her for how long Julia cried in her room when they told her.
Or how it felt to call my dad to tell him after my mother had insisted not to “because he didn’t care anyway”.
Or about how Julia would throw up everyday between six and half past six in the afternoon, and she and I grew so used to it we kept a basin next to the sofa so she didn’t have to miss much of whatever we were watching on TV.
Or about that day she got mad at me because my hair was longer than hers-mom hadn’t remembered to take me to have my hair cut for nearly a year.
The thing is, it didn’t take me long to realize I was the only one who could actually be of any use to Julia, because both my parents were useless in major crisis. Yes, dad came. Yes, mom tried. But they couldn’t deal with their feelings. Dad stood around, said nothing, didn’t do much except drive her to and from her tests, go grocery-shopping for us and make sure I brushed my teeth. Mom cried a lot and seemed to suffer much more than Julia.
And so it was my job to make my sister happy. To worry about the laundry, make sure the VHS was programmed to record her favorite anime, remember about her pills if she didn’t, that kind of thing. Oh, well. It’s… It's not that my parents are bad parents, or that I took care of everything alone. Every family has its short-comings. And I hoped ours weren't going to be tested again.
Charlie came out then, looking tight-lipped and strange. Isabel jumped up and they started discussing something in very low voices, both of them frowning and slowly shaking their heads.
“She what? We are leaving.” That was Isabel, sounding incredulous (hence the italics). Charlie hushed her.
“Will you tell her to call me, when you know about the- if she is fine?” He said, turning to me. Isabel was pulling him by the hand already.
“To call you?”
“Yes, eh, see you later then!” He waved at me, walking backwards towards the elevators. Isabel threw me a long look over her shoulder, but I was already going into Julia's room. She was absently fingering the petals of the pink carnations, but looked up at me when I drew nearer. She looked like she didn't want to cry.
Which, somehow, was worse than finding her weeping.
***
From: Izzy Díaz
To: Jorge Díaz
Subject: Latest news
Hey! Just a quick note to let you know I’ll be taking Charlie and Caro to the airport now-C is currently settling the last details with the landlord and all.
I’m driving all the way to Madrid, I’ve decided. I’m going to take the long way. I checked some maps online and I have planned a route with views. I’ve even rented a room in some plave called Monreal del Campo-I need some time to think. Time means, in this case, ten hours of driving. So I’ll reach Madrid tomorrow. If dad doesn’t like it, he should have thought about it before buying me a car. Do not lie to him if he asks-please.
News about Julia: no news yet. I can’t believe it. She hasn’t called since San Juan, and we’ve barely managed to keep C from making an ass of himself. Caro can’t stand the idea of them being together-she practically cringes every time she hears cancer. I never thought she even cared about having nieces. But she keeps saying-when C’s not around to hear-that he deserves to have his own children.
I’m so sorry for him. I never thought she loved him like he does, but really. There are things you can’t keep a secret, and times in which you can’t just stay silent. And the reserved act Julia pulls-well. I get all incensed just to think about it.
I insisted we must leave as scheduled. Caro sided up with me, of course. She’s dying to go to Milan and buy clothes or whatever. Charlie is so broken-hearted he hardly put up any resistence. He justs mopes around all day. He needs to leave, to see his friends, to remember himself. I can’t see him like this.
Ah, I have no patience today. At least everything is packed away already, and my car is loaded. I feel kind of sorry to leave the city, but I can’t wait to see you. Should we go out to celebrate? I say we should. You choose the restaurant, and tell dad he’d better make it. And if he can’t, we take Reynalda out. Though we should take her out anyway.
I’ll call tonight from Monreal del Campo.
Un beso,
Isabel
***
Julia was healthy as an apple, the doctor said. We tried not to squeal and not to dance our way out of the hospital. She looked suddenly alive with joy, and we kind of skipped all the way to the lift, and bounced inside until the thing trembled under our feet. Which admittedly didn't take much.
The sun shone, the birds sang, and we got all sweaty by biking back home. We decided to celebrate that night. We had a Sunday lunch by the sea scheduled with mom and Dídac soon-because I had graduated and he was going home for the summer. But of course they didn't know about the Dreadful Hospital Incident, and we sure weren't planning on telling.
We invited Carla, since she had been so helpful in keeping Julia entertained and not thinking about mom discovering about the analytics, having failed European Gothic, Charlie’s plane crashing and, also, dying an untimely and tragic death in less than three months. Both Carla and the Europe Football Cup had been very useful in distracting her. Especially since Spain kept winning and we couldn’t quite believe it. Not to mention the apparent abundance of virile footballers.
Carla said we couldn't possibly leave Lola at home, so we told her too. Then I called Jaime, who said he was-as usual-very busy around the nightclubs. After that Julia decided that she wouldn’t call any of her girl friends because she wanted an ‘appartment family thing’. Which didn’t work out either, since the boys had plans. Concerning nightclubs, too, and a classical guitar concert.
And so it wasonly the four of us celebrating. Well, I’m sure Charlie would have come too, had he been in the city. Julia had explained after some prodding-particularly mom’s-that he needed to take an exam back in Florence, where he had been studying History of Art, remember? And then he had some annoying paperwork in Milan, though he had said he'd be back by the beginning of July. She repeated this information every time she was questioned, and she was questioned a lot. Mom was ridiculously happy her daughter was going out with a rich and handsome boy, and also foolishly worried he wouldn't come back after all.
To my ears, there was a hint of concealed doubt in the way Julia parroted "he said he'll be back in a week". I dismissed her fears--really, anyone that had seen Charlie look at her wouldn't doubt he was head over heels in love. I was totally sure he was planning on settling in Barcelona next year.
Oh, ah, yes, the celebration. We decided on something quiet, non-alcoholic, with absolutely no dancing involved. San Joan had been too much in too many levels, I guess. So we hit our Chinese restaurant, at Julia's special request-we had been there twice before, but Julia called it ours out of fondness. Lola agreed at once, Carla was strangely willing to do as Lola said, and I wouldn't be the one to object to veal and curry rice.
The truth is, it was rather fun, to the point we disregarded our own rules and ended up gulping down a couple of shots of some supposedly flowery liquour. But that was after dessert. I mean, it would have been rather rude to say no, considering they were for free. And we were all bubbly and chatty to start with anyway.
Lola was the least talkative of the four, which helped the mood. I’m not sure whether she was more quiet than usual or it was the rest of us who were amazingly loquacious. She looked more comfortable, anyway, and when she spoke she didn't complain of things-much. She did scrunch her nose at the waiter's long pinky nail, but I think that was it.
I didn't notice at all that something was wrong. Or, OK, not wrong. Different.
Maybe Carla's refusal to eat much should have alerted me. She claimed to have joined Lola in her diet, and they shared a salad and that veal dish that comes with vegetables in a sizzling cow-shaped pan.
Well, what? They serve it that way in our restaurant. The cow is rather, er… artistic.
Anyway, Julia and I told Carla not to be silly and sample our three delight noodles, or at least a Dim Sum. Lola jumped to defend her, and Carla brushed the whole thing off, saying she just wanted to get into shape. Well, it was highly suspicious, because it had been years since she had given up on any kind of diet. The lack of sugar made her very cranky, she said, and she'd rather be a happy seal than a moody dolphin.
She seemed to stay somewhat true to that philosophy, because afterwards, while we headed to the cinema, she pleaded her way into having 'a handful' of popcorn and sugar-free Nestea. The begging involved making doe-eyes at Lola.
I know.
Carla has these huge dark eyes, so the trick really works. Especially since she uses it so rarely-sheer stubborness is more her thing, really. That would be weird thing number, well, two or three.
So I followed her to the popcorn queue while Julia and Lola got us the tickets, thinking I’d better give her some useful advice on dealing with Lola Colinas. Besides, I wanted to know what was going on. And popcorn, too.
"I think I should warn you," I said, settling by her side. "Keep that up and next thing you know Lola will be following you around. And, you know. She lap-dances."
"I think I should warn you," she answered, opening her wallet. "You should pay more attention when girls dance for you. I found it quite delightful, with the wiggling, the shimmying and all. Get a big bucket and sit by my side, will you?"
She looked so smug. I stared at her and tried to phrase my next question very carefully. " When have you seen her dance?"
She raised one eyebrow at me, the feline smile still fixed in place. "Why, silly. After the party. And then she ***ed and ***ed me-" I covered my ears with my hands at that, feeing naturally horrified, and tried very hard not to hear anything else.
I've been kind to you, as you can see, and censored the icky bits.
I guess only Lola could turn a tale of lesbian debauchery into something gross by default.
"Is the ear-covering necessary?" Carla wondered, loud enough for me to hear. She smiled politely to the blank popcorn boy that waited for us to order.
"I don't want to hear," I explained to her in case it wasn't obvius. She didn't seem to care either way, so I added, ears still safely covered, "One big bucket, a sugar-free Nestea and a Sprite?"
Carla sighed and slipped her hand into my back pocket to get my wallet from there. She pinched my ass in the process, but paid for us both with my money-as the good friend she is-while my hands were busy protecting my sanity.
We saw the Batman film, the one with the gay cowboy in it. Not that I have anything againts gay cowboys, you see, except when they have sex in a tent without any kind of warning and you are in the cinema and don’t know where to look. If they’d had been two girls, though, I’d have known exactly where to look. Still. He did something similar in Batman-but instead of averting my eyes because of gay sex, I did it when he went all sadist on people.
Right, so. We liked the movie, and someone ate one third of my popcorn. I thought that would be it, right? Lola and Carla had had sex. I could deal with that. What I couldn’t deal with was talking about it.
But, Carla being Carla, she didn't give up. She waited until we were biking our way home--so I couldn't cover my ears without letting go of the handle, yes. It was a 'listen or collide’ strategy, typically hers. She sided with me and dropped the bomb:
"Lola and I are going out."
But I had had time to think-until Batman started, that is-and I had come up with a plausible explanation for any Lola-related weird behaviour. I went, "Why? You don't like Lola."
"I do."
"No, you want to think you do, but it's alright, you know. It was a party, you both drank, you are both adults. She got into your pants, so what? Don't let her guilt-trip you into anything, for God's sake."
She glanced sideways at me, no doubt wondering when had I become so pig-headed. She tossed her hair-it’s hard, since she wears a short page cut, but she does do it anyway.
"That's a nice theory. What would you come up with if I said I like Lola, and it was me who got into her pants?"
I nearly fell into a tree hole at the mental image. She halted by my side and kind of smiled at me-but it was that special smile that means 'Now, be a good boy and just agre to what I'm saying, 'cause I'm not very patient today.' The night air was hot and humid after the coolness of the cinema, and I thought the best course of action was to hear her out, tell her where she was going wrong, and then go home to sort it out.
Carla looked at her hands on the bycicle handle and spoke in her most no-nonsense voice. "I'm willing to admit she's awkward with people and somewhat socially inept. In a sweet way. And she does admire don Carlos a great deal, but whatever. None of this makes her a bad person, or stupid, or unappealing to me."
I remained silent, sensing that sharing my feelings on the understatement of the year might not be a welcome addition to the conversation. But I mean. Awkward? Creepy was more like it. Not to mention she was whiny, needed constant attention and was excepcionally unfeeling of the others’ problems. Not to mention her political views-if they were really hers, and not her employer’s.
She went on, rising her chin a notch. "And I can't believe you'll judge her unlovable only because she wasn't lucky enough to be liked by you. Well, I like her. And I'm going with her to Granada this summer, since she has invited me to work with don Carlos de Burgos."
"Carla," I said, meaning to tell her why this wasn't a great idea at all. Because you know, it sounded a bit as if Carla was going out with Lola because of the job. Not to mention she had gone through a series of girl-related rough patches. Hooking up with Lola meant-it was clear as day for me-she was settling for second best. She didn't actually believe in her own worth, and didn't want to be alone any longer.
It’s a hard life, Jaime had said, and damn he was right. But Carla deserved-well, Scarlett Johansson or Dana Scully at the very least. Not Lola Colinas.
Sometimes it's like Carla can read my mind.
"David. I'm not a romantic. I never was." That was a blatant lie, but still I just glared at her. I know what she meant, but still she was wrong.
OK, she wouldn't be much impressed by a bunch of red roses, even if delivered under pouring rain five minutes before a flight she was supposed to get and complete with the perfect kiss. Though she'd definitely enjoy the kiss.
But I remember back when she was dating that Jessica-a girl that dressed, looked and talked like a chubby skater boy, to the point you had to look for earrings to get the gender straight-how happy she was. She had the biggest crush on her, you could tell. She didn't do anything romantic, true, but she would have done any unromantic thing in the world for her.
It ended awfully. But still. It gave me ground to stare at her as stonily as I could--I don't stare very well, to tell you the truth.
"And fine, Lola isn't wet dream material. But it's a chance to be with someone, doing someone-something I like. And I don't care about any of the objections you are going to make. Do not dare to judge me. You are supposed to be my friend."
She pedalled away, clearly mad at me. I said nothing then, and I said nothing in the days that followed before she left, but we both knew what I would say if the topic ever came up. And we both knew what she would reply and how we’d end up shouting at each other-so we never actually discussed it again, because we had fought in our heads and no-one was going to have a change of heart.
They left the 1st of July, and Charlie hadn't come back yet.
***
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: Charlie!
Charlito says: izzy!!!!
Charlito says: wait ur offline
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: I'm lurking.
Charlito says: how r u[?]
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: Can you type like a normal person?
Charlito says: do i have 2[?]
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: PLEASE.
Charlito says: k
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: ...
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: Annoying me on purpose, aren’t you?
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: I'm fine. I just wanted to talk to you.
Charlito says: why[?]
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: Well, you never answered my last e-mail. How are you doing?
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: Must your ?s *bounce*?
Charlito says: mst you be so prissy[?][?][?][?][?]
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: So you aren't exactly spiffy, are you?
Charlito says: [welcome!!!]l no
Charlito says: we ll no
Charlito says: sorry
Charlito says: i was going to answer you know
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: I know. I thought I'd check on you anyway.
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: I hate your emoticons. :) They keep springing up and BOUNCING.
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: Vamos, C.
Charlito says: I know, I’m being cranky.
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: Kind of. But I love you anyway.
Charlito says: You are silly like that.
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: [heart]
Charlito says: So what's up[?]
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: The whole point of lurking was not telling you about my life but gaining some intelligence from you. So far, I’ve learned you are rather upset, possibly with me.
Charlito says: No.
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: No?
Charlito says: no, though I’d rather have stayed. But I see how you are right.
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: I am relieved indeed.
Charlito says: :)
Charlito says: can you change the depressing quotation[?]
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: Oh.
Isabelita says: Better now?
Charlito says: Oh yes. :D
Isabelita says: Good. Since I wrote telling you all about me and Jorge, it’s your time to open up and such.
Charlito says: [welcome!!!]l I didn’t read it
Isabelita says: Does the guy with the welcome banner pop up every time you write ‘wel’?
Charlito says: Yup.
Charlito says: I’m sorry about the email.
Charlito says: Ju has written and I haven’t been much around the computer since then
Isabelita says: oh? How is she?
Charlito says: healthy
Charlito says: and sort of neutral
Isabelita says: neutral?
Isabelita says: Neutral how?
Charlito says: I’ll forward the email
Isabelita says: Okay.
Isabelita says: Got it.
Isabelita says: I’ll kill her.
Charlito says: I’d prefer you wouldn’t :)
Charlito says: do you think she’s angry because I left[?]
Isabelita says: I’ll kill her very dead
Charlito says: nooo
Charlie says: izzy[?]
Charlito says: ¿[?]
Charlito says: what are you typing there, the whole bible?
Isabelita says: I’m trying to type a moderate response, and failing.
Charlito says: aah.
Charlito says: consider it typed and delivered.
Isabelita says: Will do.
Charlito says: and caroline wants to pair me up with valeria again
Isabelita says: Not Valeria, please! Rebound with anyone but Valeria!
Charlito says: hah
Charlito says: Okay.
Charlito says: though I don’t want to rebound
Isabelita says: Don’t tell me you are waiting for her here!
Charlito says: I’m in milan… [eyebrow-raising smiley]
Isabelita says: At the computer I mean.
Charlito: ah.
Charlito says: what if I do[?]
Isabelita says: Charlieeeeeee
Charlito says: not your business
Charlito says: and it’s not like you didn’t stalk Jaime online.
Isabelita says: EXACTLY.
Isabelita says: It wasn’t stalking, by the way. It was BEING PATHETIC.
Isabelita says: So log off already.
Charlito says: whatever!
Isabelita says: Charlieeeee
Charlito says: how’s Jorge[?]
Isabelita says: We’ll TALK about this.
Charlito says: fine.
Charlito says: how’s jorge[?]
Isabelita says: Fine, he’s fine. He’s ecstatic because dad plans on letting him go back to school in Madrid (still King’s) AND have his guitar lessons back.
Charlito says: :D :D :D
Isabelita says: I know!
Charlito says: And he’s back to normal[?]
Isabelita says: He’s different. But mostly in a good way.
Charlito says: yeah, I know how it is
Charlito says: the boarding school I mean
Isabelita says: You had me at King’s College!
Charlito says: You did a great job protecting me, yes
Charlito says: Not to mention pestering
Isabelita says: That I did.
Charlito says: aagh Louie and Caroline say I have to go out.
Isabelita says: out where?
Charlito says: out as in out to meet people and have drinks
Charlito says: ring a bell[?]
Isabelita says: Ah yes. I’ve heard people does that sometimes.
Isabelita says: Go!
Charlito says: No!
Isabelita says: You are not staying here to moon over Julia.
Charlito says: How are you going to stop me[?]
Isabelita says: I won’t. Caro will.
Charlito says: Dead right, you are
Charlito says: as usual.
Isabelita says: Yes. :)
Charlito says: I’ll just go and grab a beer.
Isabelita says: Yes. You can decide about things tomorrow.
Charlito says: it sucks, Izzy. It fucking sucks.
Isabelita says: [hugging smileys]
Charlito says: [a panda smooching the screen]
Isabelita says: Eek! What is that thing?!
Charlito says: [classic ROTF]
Isabelita says: Call you tomorrow and we talk-talk, what do you say?
Charlito says: I say alright. [heart]
Isabelita says: [heart]
Charlito says: Til tomorrow then!
***
Special thanks to hlbr for the beta and dr. Rowan for all the medical information and support.
Also, this is all I've got so far! Feedback greatly appreciated, concrit and squeeing praise most of all. :D
Chapter 9
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
¿Adónde te escondiste,
Amado, y me dejaste con gemido?
‘Where did you hide,
my Love, and left me in mid-moan?’
San Juan de la Cruz, Cántico espiritual
I woke up when someone stroked my arm. I blinked, noticing the sunlight on nape of my head and the ache in my back-but I had fallen asleep on a plastic chair, so nothing new there.
Julia was sitting in front of me, bare feet dangling from the high hospital bed. The blind made her upper body look lined in grey and gold.
“How are you breathing?” My voice was raspy. She offered me the remains of the bottled water I had gotten her some hours ago, after we’d been shown into the room.
“I’m OK. The nurse that took away the breakfast tray said that a doctor would check if I was alright before we could go home. Maybe before lunch.”
I remembered the nurse who had brought the tray in. So I had slept from nine to-I checked my watch-twenty to noon. “Have you slept?”
“A bit. I’m tired. But I want to go home.”
I stretched. I hurt all over-head, neck, shoulders, stomach, you name it. It would take a while until the doctor came, I guessed. You don’t want to have anything to do with a hospital during San Joan-firecrackers, alcohol, fire and driving don’t make the safest of combinations. The ER room had been packed when we had gotten there. Really, no, it was a madhouse. “I need a coffee,” I said, going into the bathroom to splash water on my face and try to freshen up a bit. My clothes still smelled of cigarettes.
When I gave up trying to feel tidy, Julia was once again lying on the bed, looking, well, like she really didn’t want to be there. I kissed her forehead while re-buttoning my shirt. “I’ll get you a girly magazine with lots of personality tests.” Which I guess was the wrong thing to say, because that’s the kind of thing I did for her back when she had cancer.
She sniffled, not looking at me, and grasped my hand very hard. “I love you.”
I hugged her the best I could, though she didn’t let go of my hand. “I’ll bring you coffee, then. Want me to call mom and dad?”
She shook her head against my chest. “We’ll tell mom if the blood tests are... bad. I don’t care about dad.”
But dad cares about her. It’s hard to explain such resentment in Julia, of all people. She hasn’t held a grudge in her life-and this one isn’t even her grudge. It’s our mother’s.
So it’s true, my dad shouldn’t have left like that, without warning or goodbyes or coming to see us for so long-though he did call. But my mom shouldn’t have cried to her children about how lonely she felt and how unhappy she was. She made us unhappy too, and she made us resentful. And when summer came and mom cried about how much she was going to miss us when we visited dad, I went anyway, and Julia stayed.
It had only got worse since then, to the point Julia and I tried not to talk about it. I guess both she and dad are too passive to ever make a move towards reconciliation-they are quite alike, in fact. They just won’t bulge without proof the other loves them. And so Julia has never been to Granada.
I guess what you actually want to know is why we were in the hospital. Well. Julia fainted, her nose bleeding as it used to during chemo, and I freaked out. The hospital thing was, all of it, my fault, but I don’t see how I could have acted otherwise. As soon as she opened her eyes-lying on the floor, her feet propped up on Charlie’s lap-I said, “I’m taking you to the ER.”
“Yes,” she said, all white and dazed. Everyone was standing around, frozen on the spot, and it was weird because the music had never stopped. Charlie looked frightened, but said he was driving us in Isabel’s car. Isabel just frowned and tossed me the keys.
So I drove, while in the back seat a very scared Julia told a very scared Charlie she had had a cancer and she had no uterus now, and yes that meant she couldn’t have children, and that was why she hated the pictures in the living room in which her hair was short. She rambled, Charlie flipped out, then Julia flipped out too, which made them both talk at once and way too loud, distracting me, and I took the wrong turn and shouted at them, causing Charlie to shut up and Julia to have an asthma crisis.
You should be glad you weren’t in that car.
Though the wheezing stopped as soon as she was treated, which admittedly took a while, because of the people crowding the ER, Julia said it still hurt to breathe. So they gave us a room, to have her under observation. Julia let go of Charlie’s hand-she had been grasping both our hands for hours by then-and told him to go home and get some sleep.
Charlie did go home, but by the time I reached the foyer from the cafeteria, he was already there, pink flowers in hand, Isabel at his side like a moody squire. He looked exhausted, yet was as friendly as ever. We took the lift together, commenting how sick we all looked in the yellowish mirror inside. We hadn’t slept much, of course, but we didn’t say anything about that. He took the flowers and Julia’s coffee to her, and Isabel and I just sat outside the room.
Isabel hadn’t said a word yet. She had been texting someone when I had found her and Charlie before, and she was still at it, writing at high speed, then looking restless while she waited for an answer. Then the cellphone in her hand buzzed and she started typing again.
After a while, she put the phone in her giant shoulder bag and leaned back on her chair, watching Charlie with me as she tapped her foot impatiently. She then got up and paced, blocking my view every once in a while. Not that I was spying on my sister or anything.
There was nothing much to do in the corridor. I watched people walk by us, and Charlie’s face though the window of the room as he talked to Julia. I only saw the shape of Julia’s cheek, though, or her profile if she looked at the flowers instead of at Charlie.
I was sure they would work it out. I was sure they would. They loved each other, right?
And they could always adopt, later on. Charlie did look like he would want to have kids someday.
“When will you know? About the cancer?” That was Isabel’s first question. Not ‘How is Julia’, or ‘How are you’. Charlie had asked that as soon as he saw me, so it wasn’t as if she didn’t know the answer. Though I had only said “fine.” But come on, she hadn’t even said hello.
“We will come back for a blood test tomorrow morning. Then it’s a matter of a few days.” I looked up at her, then back at Charlie. He had now taken Julia’s hand and seemed very earnest. I didn’t try to make out what he was saying. It looked too intimate. So I looked back at Isabel. She was-surprise!-frowning back at me. I was too tired to deal with her disapproval, especially since I had no idea what was bothering her.
“Have you had breakfast?” Couldn’t she see? I raised my coffee a bit, without looking at her. “Can I get you anything else? You should eat something solid,” she continued, sounding like a stern teacher. I shook my head, but she sat down again, next to me, and rummaged through her bag until she found an individual packet of Dinosaurios. She handed it to me.
“They are my brother’s favorites,” she said. “I always have some. In case I, hm, get hungry.” I know, you can’t really dislike someone who always has dinosaur-shaped cookies on them. But I managed just fine.
“How old is he, anyway?”
“He’ll be sixteen soon.”
“Ah. They are good. Thank you.”
I ate. She tapped her foot. She wasn’t wearing her boots. Apparently she had hundreds of delicate-looking sandals, too.
“Charlie told me Julia had cancer when she was seventeen. It must have been hard.”
It had been. I said nothing, though. I really didn’t feel like talking about it, much less to an icy Isabel. It was awkward enough as it was. And I didn’t like her. So of course I wasn’t going to tell her for how long Julia cried in her room when they told her.
Or how it felt to call my dad to tell him after my mother had insisted not to “because he didn’t care anyway”.
Or about how Julia would throw up everyday between six and half past six in the afternoon, and she and I grew so used to it we kept a basin next to the sofa so she didn’t have to miss much of whatever we were watching on TV.
Or about that day she got mad at me because my hair was longer than hers-mom hadn’t remembered to take me to have my hair cut for nearly a year.
The thing is, it didn’t take me long to realize I was the only one who could actually be of any use to Julia, because both my parents were useless in major crisis. Yes, dad came. Yes, mom tried. But they couldn’t deal with their feelings. Dad stood around, said nothing, didn’t do much except drive her to and from her tests, go grocery-shopping for us and make sure I brushed my teeth. Mom cried a lot and seemed to suffer much more than Julia.
And so it was my job to make my sister happy. To worry about the laundry, make sure the VHS was programmed to record her favorite anime, remember about her pills if she didn’t, that kind of thing. Oh, well. It’s… It's not that my parents are bad parents, or that I took care of everything alone. Every family has its short-comings. And I hoped ours weren't going to be tested again.
Charlie came out then, looking tight-lipped and strange. Isabel jumped up and they started discussing something in very low voices, both of them frowning and slowly shaking their heads.
“She what? We are leaving.” That was Isabel, sounding incredulous (hence the italics). Charlie hushed her.
“Will you tell her to call me, when you know about the- if she is fine?” He said, turning to me. Isabel was pulling him by the hand already.
“To call you?”
“Yes, eh, see you later then!” He waved at me, walking backwards towards the elevators. Isabel threw me a long look over her shoulder, but I was already going into Julia's room. She was absently fingering the petals of the pink carnations, but looked up at me when I drew nearer. She looked like she didn't want to cry.
Which, somehow, was worse than finding her weeping.
***
From: Izzy Díaz
To: Jorge Díaz
Subject: Latest news
Hey! Just a quick note to let you know I’ll be taking Charlie and Caro to the airport now-C is currently settling the last details with the landlord and all.
I’m driving all the way to Madrid, I’ve decided. I’m going to take the long way. I checked some maps online and I have planned a route with views. I’ve even rented a room in some plave called Monreal del Campo-I need some time to think. Time means, in this case, ten hours of driving. So I’ll reach Madrid tomorrow. If dad doesn’t like it, he should have thought about it before buying me a car. Do not lie to him if he asks-please.
News about Julia: no news yet. I can’t believe it. She hasn’t called since San Juan, and we’ve barely managed to keep C from making an ass of himself. Caro can’t stand the idea of them being together-she practically cringes every time she hears cancer. I never thought she even cared about having nieces. But she keeps saying-when C’s not around to hear-that he deserves to have his own children.
I’m so sorry for him. I never thought she loved him like he does, but really. There are things you can’t keep a secret, and times in which you can’t just stay silent. And the reserved act Julia pulls-well. I get all incensed just to think about it.
I insisted we must leave as scheduled. Caro sided up with me, of course. She’s dying to go to Milan and buy clothes or whatever. Charlie is so broken-hearted he hardly put up any resistence. He justs mopes around all day. He needs to leave, to see his friends, to remember himself. I can’t see him like this.
Ah, I have no patience today. At least everything is packed away already, and my car is loaded. I feel kind of sorry to leave the city, but I can’t wait to see you. Should we go out to celebrate? I say we should. You choose the restaurant, and tell dad he’d better make it. And if he can’t, we take Reynalda out. Though we should take her out anyway.
I’ll call tonight from Monreal del Campo.
Un beso,
Isabel
***
Julia was healthy as an apple, the doctor said. We tried not to squeal and not to dance our way out of the hospital. She looked suddenly alive with joy, and we kind of skipped all the way to the lift, and bounced inside until the thing trembled under our feet. Which admittedly didn't take much.
The sun shone, the birds sang, and we got all sweaty by biking back home. We decided to celebrate that night. We had a Sunday lunch by the sea scheduled with mom and Dídac soon-because I had graduated and he was going home for the summer. But of course they didn't know about the Dreadful Hospital Incident, and we sure weren't planning on telling.
We invited Carla, since she had been so helpful in keeping Julia entertained and not thinking about mom discovering about the analytics, having failed European Gothic, Charlie’s plane crashing and, also, dying an untimely and tragic death in less than three months. Both Carla and the Europe Football Cup had been very useful in distracting her. Especially since Spain kept winning and we couldn’t quite believe it. Not to mention the apparent abundance of virile footballers.
Carla said we couldn't possibly leave Lola at home, so we told her too. Then I called Jaime, who said he was-as usual-very busy around the nightclubs. After that Julia decided that she wouldn’t call any of her girl friends because she wanted an ‘appartment family thing’. Which didn’t work out either, since the boys had plans. Concerning nightclubs, too, and a classical guitar concert.
And so it wasonly the four of us celebrating. Well, I’m sure Charlie would have come too, had he been in the city. Julia had explained after some prodding-particularly mom’s-that he needed to take an exam back in Florence, where he had been studying History of Art, remember? And then he had some annoying paperwork in Milan, though he had said he'd be back by the beginning of July. She repeated this information every time she was questioned, and she was questioned a lot. Mom was ridiculously happy her daughter was going out with a rich and handsome boy, and also foolishly worried he wouldn't come back after all.
To my ears, there was a hint of concealed doubt in the way Julia parroted "he said he'll be back in a week". I dismissed her fears--really, anyone that had seen Charlie look at her wouldn't doubt he was head over heels in love. I was totally sure he was planning on settling in Barcelona next year.
Oh, ah, yes, the celebration. We decided on something quiet, non-alcoholic, with absolutely no dancing involved. San Joan had been too much in too many levels, I guess. So we hit our Chinese restaurant, at Julia's special request-we had been there twice before, but Julia called it ours out of fondness. Lola agreed at once, Carla was strangely willing to do as Lola said, and I wouldn't be the one to object to veal and curry rice.
The truth is, it was rather fun, to the point we disregarded our own rules and ended up gulping down a couple of shots of some supposedly flowery liquour. But that was after dessert. I mean, it would have been rather rude to say no, considering they were for free. And we were all bubbly and chatty to start with anyway.
Lola was the least talkative of the four, which helped the mood. I’m not sure whether she was more quiet than usual or it was the rest of us who were amazingly loquacious. She looked more comfortable, anyway, and when she spoke she didn't complain of things-much. She did scrunch her nose at the waiter's long pinky nail, but I think that was it.
I didn't notice at all that something was wrong. Or, OK, not wrong. Different.
Maybe Carla's refusal to eat much should have alerted me. She claimed to have joined Lola in her diet, and they shared a salad and that veal dish that comes with vegetables in a sizzling cow-shaped pan.
Well, what? They serve it that way in our restaurant. The cow is rather, er… artistic.
Anyway, Julia and I told Carla not to be silly and sample our three delight noodles, or at least a Dim Sum. Lola jumped to defend her, and Carla brushed the whole thing off, saying she just wanted to get into shape. Well, it was highly suspicious, because it had been years since she had given up on any kind of diet. The lack of sugar made her very cranky, she said, and she'd rather be a happy seal than a moody dolphin.
She seemed to stay somewhat true to that philosophy, because afterwards, while we headed to the cinema, she pleaded her way into having 'a handful' of popcorn and sugar-free Nestea. The begging involved making doe-eyes at Lola.
I know.
Carla has these huge dark eyes, so the trick really works. Especially since she uses it so rarely-sheer stubborness is more her thing, really. That would be weird thing number, well, two or three.
So I followed her to the popcorn queue while Julia and Lola got us the tickets, thinking I’d better give her some useful advice on dealing with Lola Colinas. Besides, I wanted to know what was going on. And popcorn, too.
"I think I should warn you," I said, settling by her side. "Keep that up and next thing you know Lola will be following you around. And, you know. She lap-dances."
"I think I should warn you," she answered, opening her wallet. "You should pay more attention when girls dance for you. I found it quite delightful, with the wiggling, the shimmying and all. Get a big bucket and sit by my side, will you?"
She looked so smug. I stared at her and tried to phrase my next question very carefully. " When have you seen her dance?"
She raised one eyebrow at me, the feline smile still fixed in place. "Why, silly. After the party. And then she ***ed and ***ed me-" I covered my ears with my hands at that, feeing naturally horrified, and tried very hard not to hear anything else.
I've been kind to you, as you can see, and censored the icky bits.
I guess only Lola could turn a tale of lesbian debauchery into something gross by default.
"Is the ear-covering necessary?" Carla wondered, loud enough for me to hear. She smiled politely to the blank popcorn boy that waited for us to order.
"I don't want to hear," I explained to her in case it wasn't obvius. She didn't seem to care either way, so I added, ears still safely covered, "One big bucket, a sugar-free Nestea and a Sprite?"
Carla sighed and slipped her hand into my back pocket to get my wallet from there. She pinched my ass in the process, but paid for us both with my money-as the good friend she is-while my hands were busy protecting my sanity.
We saw the Batman film, the one with the gay cowboy in it. Not that I have anything againts gay cowboys, you see, except when they have sex in a tent without any kind of warning and you are in the cinema and don’t know where to look. If they’d had been two girls, though, I’d have known exactly where to look. Still. He did something similar in Batman-but instead of averting my eyes because of gay sex, I did it when he went all sadist on people.
Right, so. We liked the movie, and someone ate one third of my popcorn. I thought that would be it, right? Lola and Carla had had sex. I could deal with that. What I couldn’t deal with was talking about it.
But, Carla being Carla, she didn't give up. She waited until we were biking our way home--so I couldn't cover my ears without letting go of the handle, yes. It was a 'listen or collide’ strategy, typically hers. She sided with me and dropped the bomb:
"Lola and I are going out."
But I had had time to think-until Batman started, that is-and I had come up with a plausible explanation for any Lola-related weird behaviour. I went, "Why? You don't like Lola."
"I do."
"No, you want to think you do, but it's alright, you know. It was a party, you both drank, you are both adults. She got into your pants, so what? Don't let her guilt-trip you into anything, for God's sake."
She glanced sideways at me, no doubt wondering when had I become so pig-headed. She tossed her hair-it’s hard, since she wears a short page cut, but she does do it anyway.
"That's a nice theory. What would you come up with if I said I like Lola, and it was me who got into her pants?"
I nearly fell into a tree hole at the mental image. She halted by my side and kind of smiled at me-but it was that special smile that means 'Now, be a good boy and just agre to what I'm saying, 'cause I'm not very patient today.' The night air was hot and humid after the coolness of the cinema, and I thought the best course of action was to hear her out, tell her where she was going wrong, and then go home to sort it out.
Carla looked at her hands on the bycicle handle and spoke in her most no-nonsense voice. "I'm willing to admit she's awkward with people and somewhat socially inept. In a sweet way. And she does admire don Carlos a great deal, but whatever. None of this makes her a bad person, or stupid, or unappealing to me."
I remained silent, sensing that sharing my feelings on the understatement of the year might not be a welcome addition to the conversation. But I mean. Awkward? Creepy was more like it. Not to mention she was whiny, needed constant attention and was excepcionally unfeeling of the others’ problems. Not to mention her political views-if they were really hers, and not her employer’s.
She went on, rising her chin a notch. "And I can't believe you'll judge her unlovable only because she wasn't lucky enough to be liked by you. Well, I like her. And I'm going with her to Granada this summer, since she has invited me to work with don Carlos de Burgos."
"Carla," I said, meaning to tell her why this wasn't a great idea at all. Because you know, it sounded a bit as if Carla was going out with Lola because of the job. Not to mention she had gone through a series of girl-related rough patches. Hooking up with Lola meant-it was clear as day for me-she was settling for second best. She didn't actually believe in her own worth, and didn't want to be alone any longer.
It’s a hard life, Jaime had said, and damn he was right. But Carla deserved-well, Scarlett Johansson or Dana Scully at the very least. Not Lola Colinas.
Sometimes it's like Carla can read my mind.
"David. I'm not a romantic. I never was." That was a blatant lie, but still I just glared at her. I know what she meant, but still she was wrong.
OK, she wouldn't be much impressed by a bunch of red roses, even if delivered under pouring rain five minutes before a flight she was supposed to get and complete with the perfect kiss. Though she'd definitely enjoy the kiss.
But I remember back when she was dating that Jessica-a girl that dressed, looked and talked like a chubby skater boy, to the point you had to look for earrings to get the gender straight-how happy she was. She had the biggest crush on her, you could tell. She didn't do anything romantic, true, but she would have done any unromantic thing in the world for her.
It ended awfully. But still. It gave me ground to stare at her as stonily as I could--I don't stare very well, to tell you the truth.
"And fine, Lola isn't wet dream material. But it's a chance to be with someone, doing someone-something I like. And I don't care about any of the objections you are going to make. Do not dare to judge me. You are supposed to be my friend."
She pedalled away, clearly mad at me. I said nothing then, and I said nothing in the days that followed before she left, but we both knew what I would say if the topic ever came up. And we both knew what she would reply and how we’d end up shouting at each other-so we never actually discussed it again, because we had fought in our heads and no-one was going to have a change of heart.
They left the 1st of July, and Charlie hadn't come back yet.
***
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: Charlie!
Charlito says: izzy!!!!
Charlito says: wait ur offline
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: I'm lurking.
Charlito says: how r u[?]
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: Can you type like a normal person?
Charlito says: do i have 2[?]
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: PLEASE.
Charlito says: k
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: ...
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: Annoying me on purpose, aren’t you?
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: I'm fine. I just wanted to talk to you.
Charlito says: why[?]
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: Well, you never answered my last e-mail. How are you doing?
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: Must your ?s *bounce*?
Charlito says: mst you be so prissy[?][?][?][?][?]
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: So you aren't exactly spiffy, are you?
Charlito says: [welcome!!!]l no
Charlito says: we ll no
Charlito says: sorry
Charlito says: i was going to answer you know
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: I know. I thought I'd check on you anyway.
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: I hate your emoticons. :) They keep springing up and BOUNCING.
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: Vamos, C.
Charlito says: I know, I’m being cranky.
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: Kind of. But I love you anyway.
Charlito says: You are silly like that.
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: [heart]
Charlito says: So what's up[?]
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: The whole point of lurking was not telling you about my life but gaining some intelligence from you. So far, I’ve learned you are rather upset, possibly with me.
Charlito says: No.
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: No?
Charlito says: no, though I’d rather have stayed. But I see how you are right.
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: I am relieved indeed.
Charlito says: :)
Charlito says: can you change the depressing quotation[?]
Isa :: Ubi sunt says: Oh.
Isabelita says: Better now?
Charlito says: Oh yes. :D
Isabelita says: Good. Since I wrote telling you all about me and Jorge, it’s your time to open up and such.
Charlito says: [welcome!!!]l I didn’t read it
Isabelita says: Does the guy with the welcome banner pop up every time you write ‘wel’?
Charlito says: Yup.
Charlito says: I’m sorry about the email.
Charlito says: Ju has written and I haven’t been much around the computer since then
Isabelita says: oh? How is she?
Charlito says: healthy
Charlito says: and sort of neutral
Isabelita says: neutral?
Isabelita says: Neutral how?
Charlito says: I’ll forward the email
Isabelita says: Okay.
Isabelita says: Got it.
Isabelita says: I’ll kill her.
Charlito says: I’d prefer you wouldn’t :)
Charlito says: do you think she’s angry because I left[?]
Isabelita says: I’ll kill her very dead
Charlito says: nooo
Charlie says: izzy[?]
Charlito says: ¿[?]
Charlito says: what are you typing there, the whole bible?
Isabelita says: I’m trying to type a moderate response, and failing.
Charlito says: aah.
Charlito says: consider it typed and delivered.
Isabelita says: Will do.
Charlito says: and caroline wants to pair me up with valeria again
Isabelita says: Not Valeria, please! Rebound with anyone but Valeria!
Charlito says: hah
Charlito says: Okay.
Charlito says: though I don’t want to rebound
Isabelita says: Don’t tell me you are waiting for her here!
Charlito says: I’m in milan… [eyebrow-raising smiley]
Isabelita says: At the computer I mean.
Charlito: ah.
Charlito says: what if I do[?]
Isabelita says: Charlieeeeeee
Charlito says: not your business
Charlito says: and it’s not like you didn’t stalk Jaime online.
Isabelita says: EXACTLY.
Isabelita says: It wasn’t stalking, by the way. It was BEING PATHETIC.
Isabelita says: So log off already.
Charlito says: whatever!
Isabelita says: Charlieeeee
Charlito says: how’s Jorge[?]
Isabelita says: We’ll TALK about this.
Charlito says: fine.
Charlito says: how’s jorge[?]
Isabelita says: Fine, he’s fine. He’s ecstatic because dad plans on letting him go back to school in Madrid (still King’s) AND have his guitar lessons back.
Charlito says: :D :D :D
Isabelita says: I know!
Charlito says: And he’s back to normal[?]
Isabelita says: He’s different. But mostly in a good way.
Charlito says: yeah, I know how it is
Charlito says: the boarding school I mean
Isabelita says: You had me at King’s College!
Charlito says: You did a great job protecting me, yes
Charlito says: Not to mention pestering
Isabelita says: That I did.
Charlito says: aagh Louie and Caroline say I have to go out.
Isabelita says: out where?
Charlito says: out as in out to meet people and have drinks
Charlito says: ring a bell[?]
Isabelita says: Ah yes. I’ve heard people does that sometimes.
Isabelita says: Go!
Charlito says: No!
Isabelita says: You are not staying here to moon over Julia.
Charlito says: How are you going to stop me[?]
Isabelita says: I won’t. Caro will.
Charlito says: Dead right, you are
Charlito says: as usual.
Isabelita says: Yes. :)
Charlito says: I’ll just go and grab a beer.
Isabelita says: Yes. You can decide about things tomorrow.
Charlito says: it sucks, Izzy. It fucking sucks.
Isabelita says: [hugging smileys]
Charlito says: [a panda smooching the screen]
Isabelita says: Eek! What is that thing?!
Charlito says: [classic ROTF]
Isabelita says: Call you tomorrow and we talk-talk, what do you say?
Charlito says: I say alright. [heart]
Isabelita says: [heart]
Charlito says: Til tomorrow then!
***
Special thanks to hlbr for the beta and dr. Rowan for all the medical information and support.
Also, this is all I've got so far! Feedback greatly appreciated, concrit and squeeing praise most of all. :D
Chapter 9