And This Is Your Opinion Of Me? Chapter 9
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Y como alzó los ojos, en el punto
que sintió la herida, vio al amante;
vio al amante y quedó en la hierba verde
como la mansa cierva que se pierde.
'And as she raised her eyes, right
as she felt the wound, she saw her love,
saw her love and stayed on the grass
like a docile doe to be caught.'
Diego Hurtado de Mendoza
Fábula de Adonis, Hipomenes y Atalanta
July was its usual. That means hot, sunny, and humid in Barcelona-the heat can't get out, what with the concrete and the mountains and the sea wind. We're lucky mom can't stand the heat and siestas give her headaches. Siestas, shade and cold drinks are the natural ways to fight the summer, you know. That, and air conditioning.
So she always rents a flat for some weeks in any of the largely turistic sea villages scattered about the coast. This is good for the most part, but usually has the biggest flaws ever. It's good because the change of airs does my mother good. And Julia too, to a smaller degree. They breath in the salty breeze and only want to to sit around and put sunblock on each other. All day. And the beaches are cleaner than at home, and within walking distance and all.
The pain-in-the-ass bits are the packing and unpacking while mum freaks out, the fact she brings her boyfriends and that my mum tends to choose the most touristic of destinations. Lloret, Arenys, Roses and Salou are PACKED with northern, sun-burnt partygoers swaying around and drinking sangría. Fine, mostly at night. But anyway. They are annoying as hell.
The best thing about the beach scheme is always Jardiner. He has has always come-since third grade or so, at least. His parents own a bar, the neighbourly and slightly greasy kind you can find on practically any Spanish block: coffee and croissant in the mornings, a small selection of tapas, maybe a midday menu, and not an empty chair on football night. Jardiner's parents are very dedicated; they only take two days off a year: Christmas Day and their anniversary.
So, as a kind of payback for all the chorizo sandwitches his parents fed me on my way back from school (while Jardiner and I exchanged stickers in the corner table), my mom made sure the kid saw some sunlight and stepped on his fair share of sea urchins before he was shipped off to his grandma's small town for the rest of our school holidays.
Ah, in case you are wondering how comes I always refer to Xavi as Jardiner, well. There were three other Xavis in our school year, and everyone stopped calling him Smurf the year he punched the class bully, started dating the most endowed girl we knew, and became the MVP of the school basketball team-though admittedly he was still the shortest player. Not that I had ever called him Smurf, though. Much. I was always his faithful sidekick.
Anyway, yes, sorry, Xavi Jardiner came that year too, since my mom is very fond of him and will keep inviting him when he is fifty, I'm sure. He brought his Irish girlfriend with him, rememeber I mentioned her? Her name is Maddy, she's very sweet and she wants to work as a prison psychologist. She's a great girl-you know, she was supposed to be my fling, since she is half a head taller than Xavi Jardiner, but she had other plans. Our original plan lasted until I introduced Maddy to Carla and Xavi. That is, two months after we had first spotted her in the university cafeteria, and barely ten minutes after I started chatting her up.
In case you are wondering, I consider this a big personal success, because I know for sure she would never have dared to introduce herself, and he never even thought she could be interested-until she blushed bright pink at his cheek-kissing, and Carla, always the wise one, took my arm and announced we had lots of studying to do. We spied on them instead, of course, from a table close enough to see-and far enough not to hear much- while pretending to go over our Phonetics.
When we realized they were talking about Battlestar Galactica, Carla patted my back and said, “So. She wasn't eyeing you after all. Weird. You are prettier.”
Truly, that stung more than the girl-snatching.
Anyway. Jardiner, Maddy, Julia and I in Cadaqués. It was fun, more so because, for once, mom chose a pretty tranquil town. There was some partying, but in general we got up late, headed to he beach, had a light lunch at four in the afternoon, slept for a while, played cards in the terrace, had dinner, went for a walk, ate ice-cream and hung out on the beach. Sometimes we dared into the water at night, and some other days we went on trips to do tourism and eat paella in Maddy's honour.
Mom did more or less the same things with her boyfriend, a nice enough mechanic named Santi. We didn't spend the day together, but we did play cards often with them. The rest of the time, she lay in the sun like a stubborn lizard and made him put sunblock on her. Julia preferred to join the rest of us. She got on very well with Maddy, and both seemed to enjoy each other's femenine sense-that is, their lack of interest in manly pursuits such as fooling with our football and mock-wrestling with each other.
Also, mom kept asking Julia about Charlie long after the rest of us had learnt it was better not to mention him.
Let's pause this fast-forward. A nice, if tiny, beach, only a walk away from the white village. Coarse sand and uncomfortable pebbles, half a dozen small boats pushed up into land, clear and ice cold water. Pine trees on one side, more boats rocking gently on the other, past the yellow line of buoys. Do you see those two in the water, racing to the far end? That's Xavi Jardiner and me.
I won, of course, and he paid me back by pulling my swimming trucks down. A small war ensued, which I'm not going to describe because it mainly involves lots of spashing, occasional swallowing of sea water and lots of competing to see who held onto the buoy. Once we had grown tired of that-rather quickly, truth to be told. It seems we are growing old-we wiped our goggles and waved at the girls, squinting to see them past the shiny surface of the water.
"Maddy says Julia isn't well."
Xavi and I don't usually talk about serious things unless we are really down and beer in hand, or Carla is there to steer the conversation. I was caught totally off-guard, and hesitated a bit before admiting:
"Charlie should have come back by now, he even told my mother he'd stay with us here. But Julia won't budge; she won't talk. I don't know if I should put more pressure on her."
"Maddy says she needs to talk with someone." It was rather reassuring to know there was a girl-and a psycologist, at that-using her girly skills in this. Not that all girls are more sensitive than boys (my last ex, for one, so wasn't), but you know. They tend to think and talk more often about feelings and such. "She tried to get her to talk, but..."
"Well, yes, that's Julia for you. She does like Maddy, though. It's just she's..."
"She's Julia."
"Yes."
We explored the zone a bit longer, trying to catch the small fish with our bare hands (as if), before heading back to the shore. Jardiner ran off to his trusting girlfriend, dropping his (cold and wet) body on top of her. She squealed madly, insulted him in English and chased after him. He sought protection in the chiringuito down the road, where he would gallantly invite her to beer and calamari. They would, in all probability, wait for us there while I chatted with Julia.
In case you are wondering, it wasn't even planned. We are just amazing like that.
Julia sat up to let me sit on her towel with a mild warning look and gave me something to dry myself with. I didn't give much thought to where to start; she had gone to the supermarket yesterday, and it was well known by everyone that she stopped by the cybercafé every time she went out alone. "Did Charlie write yesterday?"
She frowned and hid her face between her sand-covered knees. "Not you, too."
"Et tu, Brutus?" I joked, placing an arm accross her shoulders. She swatted it away and tossed me the sunscreen. Factor 40. It's not like we don't tan easily, but she's terrified of skin cancer. "He hasn't written, I take."
"He did. On Tuesday. We are fine." She couldn't have fooled anyone with that, but maybe someone else would have given up. Not me, though, because I am as stubborn as my mother. Not to mention Dad and Julia. There's a great deal of hard-headedness in my genetic pool.
"Right. In a scale from zero to ten, how f-?"
She shut me up with an annoyed glance. "We are not as great as we were, but that was an Erasmus. He's back in his real life now. I understand."
Now she could have sounded convincing, but to my practised brotherly ears it was rather like she was trying to convince both of us, not only yours truly. A bit like she did when we talked about dad. "He told you that?"
A pause. She scratched her violet nail polish-Maddy and she had bonded over flea-market shopping and mutual grooming, or maybe they had bonded before that and were simply bored out of their minds while Jardiner and I watched a TV reposition of Predator.
I waited.
"We had a sort of... we had a fallout right before he went home," she said, rocking slightly and then planting her feet firmly in the pebbles.
"At the hospital? Because of...?"
"No, no. I don't think so. He said he wanted to come back, it was the plan. And he... no. I mean... That would be petty. The thing is, I can understand that he's changed his mind about me. He was only an exchange student in Barcelona, and there's the the cancer thing. He can be flighty, and I can live with that. But I don't want to think he is resentful, or that he held my awkwardness against me when I needed him most."
"No. But I don't think you were his Erasmus fling either. No way."
I deserved a What do you know? for that, but Julia is too polite.
"Well, I was. I've been away too, and I know... Everything feels so intense, so new. It would be understandable that we got carried away, that he made plans he doesn't want to follow now. I never promised him anything, you know. It's time to go back to normal."
"That's all very well-except for the little detail you are conveniently forgetting-Charlie loves you."
"What would be the point in stretching this out through the summer, anyway," she mused, glossing over my objection.
"Julia, have you told him to come back? Does he-"
"I wrote to the girls. Isabel and Caroline. He hadn't written much and I wanted to know... well, maybe something bed happened to him or something. I don't know, he didn't sound right." She got a novel she had brought and handed me a folded piece of paper inside.
There were two short e-mails; Isabel's was all icy stand-offishness. It included something like:
He is doing great; he passed his exam with flying colours and is currently seeing all his old friends. He has invited Jorge and me to Milan, we'll be there in a couple of weeks...
And Caroline was, well. Caroline can be a bitch, I'll let you know:
You shouldn't worry about him, darling, he's the worst correspondent ever! I will remind him to write, no problem, and I'll tell Valeria to remind him, too. He always listens to her...
"Valeria is his ex."
"How like you to print out the most awful couple of e-mails ever, darling."
"And he said he'd be here in a couple of weeks, so how come he invited Isabel?"
I put my arm on her sun-warmed shoulder. "I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but... I don't think your posh friends like you much. It must be because we haven't invited them to our yacht yet. Oh, wait, we don't have one. It might be that, too."
She waited patiently for me to finish rambling, then said, "That doesn't explain why Charlie isn't back."
"Well, he's been delayed, of course. He's such an obliging boy, and hasn't been with his family in months. You should just write to him and ask. And now," I got up and stretched. "aren't you starved? Let's go and eat the Jardiner's calamari."
As we strolled towards their table, though, I had to admit to myself I wasn't that happy with Charlie, either.
***
From: Izzy Díaz
To: Fina Guillán
Subject: Best Cousins Summer Escapade - 2008 edition
My dearest cousin!
I am moved by your tale of woe. July, work and Madrid! I can see how it isn't the best combination. Avoid shoes that melt on concrete and remember to carry a water bottle. And no-shine make-up.
Now, before I even begin telling you about summer plans, Reynalda and Jorge tell me to say hi. One says "Remember to eat fruit!" and the other "She's wearing the striped t-shirt! Teehee." So funny.
As you well guessed, we have flown to the Campo Real house. It's cooler here and I love the pool, but we could easily end up dead of boredom. Dad has, of course, stayed in the city, since he has so much work bla bla. I told him it's not that far, he could get to work in less than an hour. But bah. Jorge and Reynalda have taken to experimenting in the kitchen. They are currently trying to make ice-cream-peach ice-cream. They've got a machine and everything.
You should come this weekend, maybe by then they will have managed to make something edible with that thing. And Reynalda says she'll make empanadillas if you come.
Anyway, yes. You asked for my plans next month. I have none so far-Jorge and I have sort of invited ourselves to Charlie's, who is a bit down, but that's last week of July. August, on the other hand...
Jorge's counselor has suggested dad and Jorge should do something together-go to places and bond and whatnot. Seriously. Dad, in one of his outbursts, has planned a month-long men-only trip through Europe which is supposed to take place in August, and Jorge... I wouldn't say he's keen, but I do think he's secretly looking forward to it.
So if you've got three weeks to spend with me, I thought we could go and visit Grandpa.
I know, not the coolest idea ever. I figure you were expecting something more exciting, something tropical at least, but he called yesterday-I'm actually amazed he didn't call you too. Maybe he did and you are playing dumb. He did, didn't he? Hah.-He complained very thoroughly and insisted we should pay him a visit soon.
But, think about it. It's not a bad place to be, and he'll be busy with his new book (and his assistants-Colinas and her scary friend! You are so going to love this). We can trek in Sierra Morena, visit the city, go to Córdoba or Málaga for a couple of days. Also, he does have a pool. And we love him, remember?
Also, and I will later regret saying this... David's going to be there, visiting his father. Not that I want to see him that badly, but you know. We didn't part as well as I wished and it would be nice to get together once or twice. And you could meet him.
We could also just spend a week there and then go to, I don't know. How does Cuba sound? I have been thinking I'd like to go to Amsterdam, too. I want to be somewhere where it isn't this hot-I know, Granada isn't the best option to that effect. Still. Think about it, and I let you choose our other destination. Deal?
Big hugs,
Izzy.
P.S. How do things go with your boss? I don't want to ask because I don't want to sound pushy, or unsupportive, but... you know I don't approve. And, she sounds like a total bitch. I realize that's kind of the point, but duh. Be careful.
***
From: David B.
To: Madeleine Gallagher
Subject: Re: Hi!
Hey Maddy!
I know you said you would write, but I didn't actually expect a mail so long! I will have to reply in kind, if only to practise my English, and, of course, to make X.J. jealous. He sounds mopey on the phone, but more on that later.
Are you alright? I guess you must be mopey too. I got this mental picture of you and your cat in very grey, very dull Dublin (though I imagine you must get sunlight too) languishing away and staring out of windows.
I do hope that's not the case, though, though it would not do for you to be happy as a clam while X.J. misses you so much. [...] I can hear the brave face he's putting through the telephone line, though, not to worry. Plus, I gave him permission to take my webcam, he only has to ask my mother (and nod as she inquires and gossips and so, but those are the sacrifices he's willing to make for you, you lucky girl). [...]
So. News to keep you entertained and in a non-languishing state:
- Julia is very fine; she called on Monday to know how was my journey and she sounded busy, tired and quite cheerful. She does not regret not taking up your offer for the Italy trip at all and says she hopes you had great fun, both of you and on your own. The italics are hers, only, you know, oral. She argues again that it wasn't her place to go after him, that he had invited Isabel and not her, she brought up the Valeria thing again and finally said that she is so busy and happy now with the camp kids that she hardly thinks about him at all.
She did sound breathless and cheerful-ish. She was talking to me while watching over the swimming-pool. There was lots of happy squealing in the background and she sounded quite well-until the rest of counselors rounded on her and threw her into the pool. They spared the cell, though. I think she will be alright, given enough time.
- I am doing good, though it's a hard life, being a waiter at night and a babysitter during the day. Antonio, that is, my half-brother who is now two years old, is a little scheming thing. He has a very empirical mind and a very disarming smile, which is a deadly combination, as I've had plenty of opportunities to discover in the last three days.
When I left last Christmas, he swaggered around the house and babbled nonsense. He did call me (Ahvee, Ahveeeee, he said) and he used to wave after me from his bedroom window when I left the house, but he was a baby. Now he's like this little, happy person that understands everything you say around him and repeats most of it. And he calls me Bavee, which is great progress in my opinion.
He was fun to be around before, but now it's amazing. And tiring. It's mostly tiring, to tell you the truth.
My other brother Fede (step-brother), has, at least, a wider range of hobbies than Endless Peek-a-boo and Sticking Fingers In Forbidden Places Such As Plugs. He is nine, so that's sort of expected. I help him with his homework and his soccer. We share his room, but he's very nice about that.
- My father is doing well, too; Tere does him good. Tere is my stepmother. She is a school teacher and she is very nice, in a stern motherly way. We get on pretty well and she makes a mean gazpacho. Which I don't know if you ever tried. It's like a liquid salad, with lots of tomato. Very refreshing.
Which is perfect, because it's hot here. The house is fine, since we keep it dark and closed during the day, and it was built with very thick walls. But I refuse to go out to the street between 2 and 6pm, for fear of melting. My dad refuses to go out at all except at night; it's rather funny. We play chess and he lends me books, but mostly he hides in his office and doesn't come out unless the kids and I make lots of noise. And at mealtimes. Well, and when Fede and I play Pro Evolution Soccer on the playstation, to keep an eye on Antonio and tell us what to do.
- Carla did come to see me yesterday before work. I shouldn't have worried at her being angry-we are fine, and she seems happy, and slimmer. She reports that she and Lola are doing great in Lola's parent's flat (the parents have removed to their second residence in Marbella); they are all by themselves even if everyone (Lola's parents and don C de B) think they are 'good friends'. Which I know annoys her. But she says the sex is rather good, so. I think maybe they will last until September.
Apparently don C de B is not the monster they say, though Carla admits he is mostly grumpy and inconsiderate. Lola takes it all in stride, she says, but I think it's not OK with Carla. It just got worse, though, since Icy Isabel and her cousin Fina arrived yesterday before she came to visit. Carla reports that Isabel was her usual distant self, and that the cousin seems normal, and that the two of them seem to be attached at the hip. She said she took pity on the cousin at first, since she is nowhere near as pretty as Isabel, but five minutes later she switched to pitying Isabel, because Fina is so charming she effortlessly takes the spotlight from her.
But apparently she also wears very short shorts, so maybe Carla just wants to think well of her.
- I have to make the kids eat their dinner and take a shower before heading off to work, so this will have to do for today. Say hi to Xavi Jardiner from me when he calls!
Hugs,
David.
***
Much to David's never-ending glee, I have run out of e-mails to use. Fina was with me and Jorge was on his Father&Son European Tour- they had this silly idea of sleeping at camping sites instead of doing what normal people do and getting hotel rooms, and it was easier for Jorge to simply call me from wherever they were.
This might be for the best, though, since at that time I wouldn't have shared my thoughts on David as freely as I will now, only because he is dying to read just how starry-eyed I got (fine, get) about him.
Which is very.
Also, it will help understanding why we messed things up. And it makes David look bad, or at least very oblivious.
So there we go. The day I saw David again, in fine detail but not fine prose:
August 4th
8.00 Woke up. Went out with bike.
8.45 Had a shower, which woke Fina up. Fina grumbled.
9.00 Dragged her, bedhead and all, to the kitchen, to be treated to coffee and croissants by Fátima.
9.03 Lola and Carla came in from the garage door, and Fina invited them to sit. Carla begged for caffeine, since all they manage to do in the Colina's coffeemaker is “undrinkable piss”. Colinas looked appalled, at mode of expression or at sitting at the table with us princesses, and ran off to say good morning to don Carlos the Great.
9.20 Carla wasn't as scary as she appeared to be. She revealed David works 8pm-3am in a bar in plaza Santa Ana. Fina kicked my ankle but refrained from snickering. Carla issued a diplomatic invitation to join Colinas and herself that night, then looked a bit non-plussed a Fina's Oh yes PLEASE!
10.00-14.00 Lingered around swimming pool with Fina.
14.00 Lunch. Granddad was happy his slaves and his princesses are friendly. Then despaired of modern technology (Colinas' pissmaker), modern journalism, modern dance and modern paedagogy, and handed out advice on how to treat one's boyfriend. Colinas looked like she'd want to write it down. Fina and I noted Carla aces her poker face. The girl shows promise.
15.00-17.00 Grandpa slept, and we went down to the basement library and played Texas Hold'em with Carla while Lola pretended to work-but kept dozing off at her desk. It's funny how Carla's desk is in the nice library but Colinas has all the archive work down in the basement. I think the slaves would rather switch places, but Granddad won't let them.
17.00-20.00 Tried to read, first in the basement and then in my room. Ended up having a classic Nothing to Wear Crisis. Fina interrupted, wide-eyed with horror.
Fina: Oh f***. Did you know that Carla and Colinas... (pause to glance towards the contents of my closet, which were all on top of my bed) ...are a couple? Is this about David?
Isabel: A couple?
Fina (slumps on chair after throwing down all the shoes on it): Yes! I mean, I just caught them snogging. And remember, Carla is staying with Colinas.
Isabel: Ah. True.
Fina: Ugh. Don't you think Carla is way too cool to...
Isabel: And smart.
Fina: I mean, what's this? Beauty and the Beast II?
Isabel (now suspecting Fina is genuinely disgruntled): And the beauty would be Carla?
Fina: Watch it, princess.
Isabel (sighing patiently): But you were madly in love with your boss just the other day.
Fina: What can I say? I'm not one to stay and pine hopelessly.
Isabel: Nor to stay and commit, for that matter.
Fina (grinning): Not, that either. So I'll be fine. But, really, Lola Colinas?
Isabel: And she seemed so sensible. Carla, I mean. (Fina doesn't answer, because she's going through my clothes.) I don't know what to wear.
Fina: I vote for the vintage dress.
Isabel: Which one?
Fina: The green one. Beauty and the beast aren't even going to change clothes, so keep it casual.
Isabel: You sure you are alright?
Fina: Will be as soon as I get tipsy. So hurry up. And lend me your pretty earrings. (Putting them on) Ah, much better. (Kisses cheek in random outburst and leaves.)
(Isabel, wearing the green dress, glares at her ten pairs of shoes and tells herself she is being irrational.)
20.30 Plaza Santa Ana is very nice. That's good, because the bar is so small, most of the tables are outside. That night we sat next to the door, and I could watch him come and go and win foreigners over with an easy smile. Carla hailed him down and ordered the selection of cold meats and garlicky shrimps, plus drinks. David laughed at her diet, and Colinas complained to me but I was too busy staring at him to be annoyed. He didn't look twice at me until he got introduced to Fina, and then he walked around the table for the greetings. He had to steady me with one hand on my waist when I rose to kiss cheeks. Of course, he smelled wonderful. I both melted and wished he was already gone so that I could look at him and feel thirteen in peace.
When he came back with our order, I had my voice back, enough to compliment his tan.
Isabel: You are so tan!
David: I guess I now do look like a gypsy.
Carla: Maybe moroccan.
Colinas: Not moroccan at all!
Carla: A bit, yes.
Colinas: He's too handsome to look moroccan.
(Everyone flinches a bit.)
David: Oh, you should see Julia. She's out in the sun all day now, with the kids, and she was already tan in July despite all the sunblock...
Isabel (in a futile attempt to control the conversation): Doesn't she burn, being blondish?
David (dismissively): She tans easily anyway.
Fina: Isabel says she's very pretty. Wait, we didn't order the Russian salad. Or the Spanish omelette.
David: They come with the drinks. Don't let Carla near them, though.
Carla pouted. Colinas did in fact push the dishes towards us and out of her reach. As I confirmed my suspicions about the omelet, Fina confirmed hers about them being girlfriends. Yes, the omelette tasted just like the one he made at Louisa's (impossibly good and knee-melting). Yes, they were in a relationship, Carla said, and don Carlos didn't know. Colinas seemed horrified at having been found out, and was silenced for a long while. Which made conversation easier. Fina's strange mood helped, too-she was bouncy and witty, which with Fina isn't always good.
21.20 David stopped by again, apologizing for not paying us enough attention. It truly was a busy night. He paid for a second round of drinks, brought chips, calamari and more omelette, and was very very nice with everyone, particularly Fina. I liked that, but couldn't string two words together. I didn't think I should speak, either; I was overwhelmed just by sitting there and marvelling at everything he did and said.
Until Fina acted on her fizzy mood, that is. It went like this:
David: So, you two are cousins?
Fina: Oh yes, best cousins. It's like best friends, but with the added bonus of being family.
Carla (who was keeping tabs both on Colina's ramblings and our side of the conversation): You do look alike.
Fina: Oh, but Izzy's prettier, isn't she?
David: I wouldn't say so. Besides, she is snottier (smiles teasingly at Isabel).
Isabel (rendered speechless by what sounded like affectionate banter): ...
Fina (to the rescue): But prettier. So what do you do when you are not waiting on people?
David: I chat girls up.
(Carla snorts in the background)
Fina: Really.
Isabel: He wants to teach.
Fina: Uh?
Isabel (clears throat): He wants to teach.
David: Ah! Yes. I finished Spanish and Catalan and I'm going to do a master on paedagogy next year.
Fina: You should totally meet our granddad then. But when you do, don't mention paedagogy. Nor homosexuality. We'll introduce you, if you promise. When are you free?
Isabel: ...
David: The day after tomorrow. Well, the night.
Fina: Great, then, you'll come to dinner. Grandpa needs fresh victims.
(Isabel really wants to be somewhere else.)
Fina: You two will be there, right? Carla can kick our ass at poker later, or we can drive back here and go somewhere nice. That is, if you don't fall in love with the library and chain yourself to a shelf...
Colinas: I don't think don Carlos would approve...
Fina: He'd understand. He hardly ever leaves the room himself.
Colinas: I meant, us staying for di--
Carla (patting Colina's knee to shut her up): Oh, you'll love the books, David.
David: If you don't think it would be--
Fina: Okay, may Izzy pick you up at, say, seven?
David (startled): O-kay...
(Isabel thinks she might die.)
Carla: He even has a signed poem from Lorca. From Lorca. Dedicated to the late señor de Burgos.
Colinas: And signed first editions of--
Fina: We'll have fun. Now run off to serve sangría and chat girls up.
David: Yeah. Here's my number. (Writes it in his his notepad and hands it to Fina with a nice boy's best try at a roguish smile.)
(Fina grins and passes it to Isabel without looking at it or even feigning interest, for God's sake.)
(David, oblivious as ever, saunters off.)
(Isabel is dead.)
***
Finally! :D Big hugs for the friends that kept reminding me I should write (rakshah, miina) and smooches for my best betas, hlbr, elizabeth_hoot and Vicky. Thank you all!
Chapter 10
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Y como alzó los ojos, en el punto
que sintió la herida, vio al amante;
vio al amante y quedó en la hierba verde
como la mansa cierva que se pierde.
'And as she raised her eyes, right
as she felt the wound, she saw her love,
saw her love and stayed on the grass
like a docile doe to be caught.'
Diego Hurtado de Mendoza
Fábula de Adonis, Hipomenes y Atalanta
July was its usual. That means hot, sunny, and humid in Barcelona-the heat can't get out, what with the concrete and the mountains and the sea wind. We're lucky mom can't stand the heat and siestas give her headaches. Siestas, shade and cold drinks are the natural ways to fight the summer, you know. That, and air conditioning.
So she always rents a flat for some weeks in any of the largely turistic sea villages scattered about the coast. This is good for the most part, but usually has the biggest flaws ever. It's good because the change of airs does my mother good. And Julia too, to a smaller degree. They breath in the salty breeze and only want to to sit around and put sunblock on each other. All day. And the beaches are cleaner than at home, and within walking distance and all.
The pain-in-the-ass bits are the packing and unpacking while mum freaks out, the fact she brings her boyfriends and that my mum tends to choose the most touristic of destinations. Lloret, Arenys, Roses and Salou are PACKED with northern, sun-burnt partygoers swaying around and drinking sangría. Fine, mostly at night. But anyway. They are annoying as hell.
The best thing about the beach scheme is always Jardiner. He has has always come-since third grade or so, at least. His parents own a bar, the neighbourly and slightly greasy kind you can find on practically any Spanish block: coffee and croissant in the mornings, a small selection of tapas, maybe a midday menu, and not an empty chair on football night. Jardiner's parents are very dedicated; they only take two days off a year: Christmas Day and their anniversary.
So, as a kind of payback for all the chorizo sandwitches his parents fed me on my way back from school (while Jardiner and I exchanged stickers in the corner table), my mom made sure the kid saw some sunlight and stepped on his fair share of sea urchins before he was shipped off to his grandma's small town for the rest of our school holidays.
Ah, in case you are wondering how comes I always refer to Xavi as Jardiner, well. There were three other Xavis in our school year, and everyone stopped calling him Smurf the year he punched the class bully, started dating the most endowed girl we knew, and became the MVP of the school basketball team-though admittedly he was still the shortest player. Not that I had ever called him Smurf, though. Much. I was always his faithful sidekick.
Anyway, yes, sorry, Xavi Jardiner came that year too, since my mom is very fond of him and will keep inviting him when he is fifty, I'm sure. He brought his Irish girlfriend with him, rememeber I mentioned her? Her name is Maddy, she's very sweet and she wants to work as a prison psychologist. She's a great girl-you know, she was supposed to be my fling, since she is half a head taller than Xavi Jardiner, but she had other plans. Our original plan lasted until I introduced Maddy to Carla and Xavi. That is, two months after we had first spotted her in the university cafeteria, and barely ten minutes after I started chatting her up.
In case you are wondering, I consider this a big personal success, because I know for sure she would never have dared to introduce herself, and he never even thought she could be interested-until she blushed bright pink at his cheek-kissing, and Carla, always the wise one, took my arm and announced we had lots of studying to do. We spied on them instead, of course, from a table close enough to see-and far enough not to hear much- while pretending to go over our Phonetics.
When we realized they were talking about Battlestar Galactica, Carla patted my back and said, “So. She wasn't eyeing you after all. Weird. You are prettier.”
Truly, that stung more than the girl-snatching.
Anyway. Jardiner, Maddy, Julia and I in Cadaqués. It was fun, more so because, for once, mom chose a pretty tranquil town. There was some partying, but in general we got up late, headed to he beach, had a light lunch at four in the afternoon, slept for a while, played cards in the terrace, had dinner, went for a walk, ate ice-cream and hung out on the beach. Sometimes we dared into the water at night, and some other days we went on trips to do tourism and eat paella in Maddy's honour.
Mom did more or less the same things with her boyfriend, a nice enough mechanic named Santi. We didn't spend the day together, but we did play cards often with them. The rest of the time, she lay in the sun like a stubborn lizard and made him put sunblock on her. Julia preferred to join the rest of us. She got on very well with Maddy, and both seemed to enjoy each other's femenine sense-that is, their lack of interest in manly pursuits such as fooling with our football and mock-wrestling with each other.
Also, mom kept asking Julia about Charlie long after the rest of us had learnt it was better not to mention him.
Let's pause this fast-forward. A nice, if tiny, beach, only a walk away from the white village. Coarse sand and uncomfortable pebbles, half a dozen small boats pushed up into land, clear and ice cold water. Pine trees on one side, more boats rocking gently on the other, past the yellow line of buoys. Do you see those two in the water, racing to the far end? That's Xavi Jardiner and me.
I won, of course, and he paid me back by pulling my swimming trucks down. A small war ensued, which I'm not going to describe because it mainly involves lots of spashing, occasional swallowing of sea water and lots of competing to see who held onto the buoy. Once we had grown tired of that-rather quickly, truth to be told. It seems we are growing old-we wiped our goggles and waved at the girls, squinting to see them past the shiny surface of the water.
"Maddy says Julia isn't well."
Xavi and I don't usually talk about serious things unless we are really down and beer in hand, or Carla is there to steer the conversation. I was caught totally off-guard, and hesitated a bit before admiting:
"Charlie should have come back by now, he even told my mother he'd stay with us here. But Julia won't budge; she won't talk. I don't know if I should put more pressure on her."
"Maddy says she needs to talk with someone." It was rather reassuring to know there was a girl-and a psycologist, at that-using her girly skills in this. Not that all girls are more sensitive than boys (my last ex, for one, so wasn't), but you know. They tend to think and talk more often about feelings and such. "She tried to get her to talk, but..."
"Well, yes, that's Julia for you. She does like Maddy, though. It's just she's..."
"She's Julia."
"Yes."
We explored the zone a bit longer, trying to catch the small fish with our bare hands (as if), before heading back to the shore. Jardiner ran off to his trusting girlfriend, dropping his (cold and wet) body on top of her. She squealed madly, insulted him in English and chased after him. He sought protection in the chiringuito down the road, where he would gallantly invite her to beer and calamari. They would, in all probability, wait for us there while I chatted with Julia.
In case you are wondering, it wasn't even planned. We are just amazing like that.
Julia sat up to let me sit on her towel with a mild warning look and gave me something to dry myself with. I didn't give much thought to where to start; she had gone to the supermarket yesterday, and it was well known by everyone that she stopped by the cybercafé every time she went out alone. "Did Charlie write yesterday?"
She frowned and hid her face between her sand-covered knees. "Not you, too."
"Et tu, Brutus?" I joked, placing an arm accross her shoulders. She swatted it away and tossed me the sunscreen. Factor 40. It's not like we don't tan easily, but she's terrified of skin cancer. "He hasn't written, I take."
"He did. On Tuesday. We are fine." She couldn't have fooled anyone with that, but maybe someone else would have given up. Not me, though, because I am as stubborn as my mother. Not to mention Dad and Julia. There's a great deal of hard-headedness in my genetic pool.
"Right. In a scale from zero to ten, how f-?"
She shut me up with an annoyed glance. "We are not as great as we were, but that was an Erasmus. He's back in his real life now. I understand."
Now she could have sounded convincing, but to my practised brotherly ears it was rather like she was trying to convince both of us, not only yours truly. A bit like she did when we talked about dad. "He told you that?"
A pause. She scratched her violet nail polish-Maddy and she had bonded over flea-market shopping and mutual grooming, or maybe they had bonded before that and were simply bored out of their minds while Jardiner and I watched a TV reposition of Predator.
I waited.
"We had a sort of... we had a fallout right before he went home," she said, rocking slightly and then planting her feet firmly in the pebbles.
"At the hospital? Because of...?"
"No, no. I don't think so. He said he wanted to come back, it was the plan. And he... no. I mean... That would be petty. The thing is, I can understand that he's changed his mind about me. He was only an exchange student in Barcelona, and there's the the cancer thing. He can be flighty, and I can live with that. But I don't want to think he is resentful, or that he held my awkwardness against me when I needed him most."
"No. But I don't think you were his Erasmus fling either. No way."
I deserved a What do you know? for that, but Julia is too polite.
"Well, I was. I've been away too, and I know... Everything feels so intense, so new. It would be understandable that we got carried away, that he made plans he doesn't want to follow now. I never promised him anything, you know. It's time to go back to normal."
"That's all very well-except for the little detail you are conveniently forgetting-Charlie loves you."
"What would be the point in stretching this out through the summer, anyway," she mused, glossing over my objection.
"Julia, have you told him to come back? Does he-"
"I wrote to the girls. Isabel and Caroline. He hadn't written much and I wanted to know... well, maybe something bed happened to him or something. I don't know, he didn't sound right." She got a novel she had brought and handed me a folded piece of paper inside.
There were two short e-mails; Isabel's was all icy stand-offishness. It included something like:
He is doing great; he passed his exam with flying colours and is currently seeing all his old friends. He has invited Jorge and me to Milan, we'll be there in a couple of weeks...
And Caroline was, well. Caroline can be a bitch, I'll let you know:
You shouldn't worry about him, darling, he's the worst correspondent ever! I will remind him to write, no problem, and I'll tell Valeria to remind him, too. He always listens to her...
"Valeria is his ex."
"How like you to print out the most awful couple of e-mails ever, darling."
"And he said he'd be here in a couple of weeks, so how come he invited Isabel?"
I put my arm on her sun-warmed shoulder. "I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but... I don't think your posh friends like you much. It must be because we haven't invited them to our yacht yet. Oh, wait, we don't have one. It might be that, too."
She waited patiently for me to finish rambling, then said, "That doesn't explain why Charlie isn't back."
"Well, he's been delayed, of course. He's such an obliging boy, and hasn't been with his family in months. You should just write to him and ask. And now," I got up and stretched. "aren't you starved? Let's go and eat the Jardiner's calamari."
As we strolled towards their table, though, I had to admit to myself I wasn't that happy with Charlie, either.
***
From: Izzy Díaz
To: Fina Guillán
Subject: Best Cousins Summer Escapade - 2008 edition
My dearest cousin!
I am moved by your tale of woe. July, work and Madrid! I can see how it isn't the best combination. Avoid shoes that melt on concrete and remember to carry a water bottle. And no-shine make-up.
Now, before I even begin telling you about summer plans, Reynalda and Jorge tell me to say hi. One says "Remember to eat fruit!" and the other "She's wearing the striped t-shirt! Teehee." So funny.
As you well guessed, we have flown to the Campo Real house. It's cooler here and I love the pool, but we could easily end up dead of boredom. Dad has, of course, stayed in the city, since he has so much work bla bla. I told him it's not that far, he could get to work in less than an hour. But bah. Jorge and Reynalda have taken to experimenting in the kitchen. They are currently trying to make ice-cream-peach ice-cream. They've got a machine and everything.
You should come this weekend, maybe by then they will have managed to make something edible with that thing. And Reynalda says she'll make empanadillas if you come.
Anyway, yes. You asked for my plans next month. I have none so far-Jorge and I have sort of invited ourselves to Charlie's, who is a bit down, but that's last week of July. August, on the other hand...
Jorge's counselor has suggested dad and Jorge should do something together-go to places and bond and whatnot. Seriously. Dad, in one of his outbursts, has planned a month-long men-only trip through Europe which is supposed to take place in August, and Jorge... I wouldn't say he's keen, but I do think he's secretly looking forward to it.
So if you've got three weeks to spend with me, I thought we could go and visit Grandpa.
I know, not the coolest idea ever. I figure you were expecting something more exciting, something tropical at least, but he called yesterday-I'm actually amazed he didn't call you too. Maybe he did and you are playing dumb. He did, didn't he? Hah.-He complained very thoroughly and insisted we should pay him a visit soon.
But, think about it. It's not a bad place to be, and he'll be busy with his new book (and his assistants-Colinas and her scary friend! You are so going to love this). We can trek in Sierra Morena, visit the city, go to Córdoba or Málaga for a couple of days. Also, he does have a pool. And we love him, remember?
Also, and I will later regret saying this... David's going to be there, visiting his father. Not that I want to see him that badly, but you know. We didn't part as well as I wished and it would be nice to get together once or twice. And you could meet him.
We could also just spend a week there and then go to, I don't know. How does Cuba sound? I have been thinking I'd like to go to Amsterdam, too. I want to be somewhere where it isn't this hot-I know, Granada isn't the best option to that effect. Still. Think about it, and I let you choose our other destination. Deal?
Big hugs,
Izzy.
P.S. How do things go with your boss? I don't want to ask because I don't want to sound pushy, or unsupportive, but... you know I don't approve. And, she sounds like a total bitch. I realize that's kind of the point, but duh. Be careful.
***
From: David B.
To: Madeleine Gallagher
Subject: Re: Hi!
Hey Maddy!
I know you said you would write, but I didn't actually expect a mail so long! I will have to reply in kind, if only to practise my English, and, of course, to make X.J. jealous. He sounds mopey on the phone, but more on that later.
Are you alright? I guess you must be mopey too. I got this mental picture of you and your cat in very grey, very dull Dublin (though I imagine you must get sunlight too) languishing away and staring out of windows.
I do hope that's not the case, though, though it would not do for you to be happy as a clam while X.J. misses you so much. [...] I can hear the brave face he's putting through the telephone line, though, not to worry. Plus, I gave him permission to take my webcam, he only has to ask my mother (and nod as she inquires and gossips and so, but those are the sacrifices he's willing to make for you, you lucky girl). [...]
So. News to keep you entertained and in a non-languishing state:
- Julia is very fine; she called on Monday to know how was my journey and she sounded busy, tired and quite cheerful. She does not regret not taking up your offer for the Italy trip at all and says she hopes you had great fun, both of you and on your own. The italics are hers, only, you know, oral. She argues again that it wasn't her place to go after him, that he had invited Isabel and not her, she brought up the Valeria thing again and finally said that she is so busy and happy now with the camp kids that she hardly thinks about him at all.
She did sound breathless and cheerful-ish. She was talking to me while watching over the swimming-pool. There was lots of happy squealing in the background and she sounded quite well-until the rest of counselors rounded on her and threw her into the pool. They spared the cell, though. I think she will be alright, given enough time.
- I am doing good, though it's a hard life, being a waiter at night and a babysitter during the day. Antonio, that is, my half-brother who is now two years old, is a little scheming thing. He has a very empirical mind and a very disarming smile, which is a deadly combination, as I've had plenty of opportunities to discover in the last three days.
When I left last Christmas, he swaggered around the house and babbled nonsense. He did call me (Ahvee, Ahveeeee, he said) and he used to wave after me from his bedroom window when I left the house, but he was a baby. Now he's like this little, happy person that understands everything you say around him and repeats most of it. And he calls me Bavee, which is great progress in my opinion.
He was fun to be around before, but now it's amazing. And tiring. It's mostly tiring, to tell you the truth.
My other brother Fede (step-brother), has, at least, a wider range of hobbies than Endless Peek-a-boo and Sticking Fingers In Forbidden Places Such As Plugs. He is nine, so that's sort of expected. I help him with his homework and his soccer. We share his room, but he's very nice about that.
- My father is doing well, too; Tere does him good. Tere is my stepmother. She is a school teacher and she is very nice, in a stern motherly way. We get on pretty well and she makes a mean gazpacho. Which I don't know if you ever tried. It's like a liquid salad, with lots of tomato. Very refreshing.
Which is perfect, because it's hot here. The house is fine, since we keep it dark and closed during the day, and it was built with very thick walls. But I refuse to go out to the street between 2 and 6pm, for fear of melting. My dad refuses to go out at all except at night; it's rather funny. We play chess and he lends me books, but mostly he hides in his office and doesn't come out unless the kids and I make lots of noise. And at mealtimes. Well, and when Fede and I play Pro Evolution Soccer on the playstation, to keep an eye on Antonio and tell us what to do.
- Carla did come to see me yesterday before work. I shouldn't have worried at her being angry-we are fine, and she seems happy, and slimmer. She reports that she and Lola are doing great in Lola's parent's flat (the parents have removed to their second residence in Marbella); they are all by themselves even if everyone (Lola's parents and don C de B) think they are 'good friends'. Which I know annoys her. But she says the sex is rather good, so. I think maybe they will last until September.
Apparently don C de B is not the monster they say, though Carla admits he is mostly grumpy and inconsiderate. Lola takes it all in stride, she says, but I think it's not OK with Carla. It just got worse, though, since Icy Isabel and her cousin Fina arrived yesterday before she came to visit. Carla reports that Isabel was her usual distant self, and that the cousin seems normal, and that the two of them seem to be attached at the hip. She said she took pity on the cousin at first, since she is nowhere near as pretty as Isabel, but five minutes later she switched to pitying Isabel, because Fina is so charming she effortlessly takes the spotlight from her.
But apparently she also wears very short shorts, so maybe Carla just wants to think well of her.
- I have to make the kids eat their dinner and take a shower before heading off to work, so this will have to do for today. Say hi to Xavi Jardiner from me when he calls!
Hugs,
David.
***
Much to David's never-ending glee, I have run out of e-mails to use. Fina was with me and Jorge was on his Father&Son European Tour- they had this silly idea of sleeping at camping sites instead of doing what normal people do and getting hotel rooms, and it was easier for Jorge to simply call me from wherever they were.
This might be for the best, though, since at that time I wouldn't have shared my thoughts on David as freely as I will now, only because he is dying to read just how starry-eyed I got (fine, get) about him.
Which is very.
Also, it will help understanding why we messed things up. And it makes David look bad, or at least very oblivious.
So there we go. The day I saw David again, in fine detail but not fine prose:
August 4th
8.00 Woke up. Went out with bike.
8.45 Had a shower, which woke Fina up. Fina grumbled.
9.00 Dragged her, bedhead and all, to the kitchen, to be treated to coffee and croissants by Fátima.
9.03 Lola and Carla came in from the garage door, and Fina invited them to sit. Carla begged for caffeine, since all they manage to do in the Colina's coffeemaker is “undrinkable piss”. Colinas looked appalled, at mode of expression or at sitting at the table with us princesses, and ran off to say good morning to don Carlos the Great.
9.20 Carla wasn't as scary as she appeared to be. She revealed David works 8pm-3am in a bar in plaza Santa Ana. Fina kicked my ankle but refrained from snickering. Carla issued a diplomatic invitation to join Colinas and herself that night, then looked a bit non-plussed a Fina's Oh yes PLEASE!
10.00-14.00 Lingered around swimming pool with Fina.
14.00 Lunch. Granddad was happy his slaves and his princesses are friendly. Then despaired of modern technology (Colinas' pissmaker), modern journalism, modern dance and modern paedagogy, and handed out advice on how to treat one's boyfriend. Colinas looked like she'd want to write it down. Fina and I noted Carla aces her poker face. The girl shows promise.
15.00-17.00 Grandpa slept, and we went down to the basement library and played Texas Hold'em with Carla while Lola pretended to work-but kept dozing off at her desk. It's funny how Carla's desk is in the nice library but Colinas has all the archive work down in the basement. I think the slaves would rather switch places, but Granddad won't let them.
17.00-20.00 Tried to read, first in the basement and then in my room. Ended up having a classic Nothing to Wear Crisis. Fina interrupted, wide-eyed with horror.
Fina: Oh f***. Did you know that Carla and Colinas... (pause to glance towards the contents of my closet, which were all on top of my bed) ...are a couple? Is this about David?
Isabel: A couple?
Fina (slumps on chair after throwing down all the shoes on it): Yes! I mean, I just caught them snogging. And remember, Carla is staying with Colinas.
Isabel: Ah. True.
Fina: Ugh. Don't you think Carla is way too cool to...
Isabel: And smart.
Fina: I mean, what's this? Beauty and the Beast II?
Isabel (now suspecting Fina is genuinely disgruntled): And the beauty would be Carla?
Fina: Watch it, princess.
Isabel (sighing patiently): But you were madly in love with your boss just the other day.
Fina: What can I say? I'm not one to stay and pine hopelessly.
Isabel: Nor to stay and commit, for that matter.
Fina (grinning): Not, that either. So I'll be fine. But, really, Lola Colinas?
Isabel: And she seemed so sensible. Carla, I mean. (Fina doesn't answer, because she's going through my clothes.) I don't know what to wear.
Fina: I vote for the vintage dress.
Isabel: Which one?
Fina: The green one. Beauty and the beast aren't even going to change clothes, so keep it casual.
Isabel: You sure you are alright?
Fina: Will be as soon as I get tipsy. So hurry up. And lend me your pretty earrings. (Putting them on) Ah, much better. (Kisses cheek in random outburst and leaves.)
(Isabel, wearing the green dress, glares at her ten pairs of shoes and tells herself she is being irrational.)
20.30 Plaza Santa Ana is very nice. That's good, because the bar is so small, most of the tables are outside. That night we sat next to the door, and I could watch him come and go and win foreigners over with an easy smile. Carla hailed him down and ordered the selection of cold meats and garlicky shrimps, plus drinks. David laughed at her diet, and Colinas complained to me but I was too busy staring at him to be annoyed. He didn't look twice at me until he got introduced to Fina, and then he walked around the table for the greetings. He had to steady me with one hand on my waist when I rose to kiss cheeks. Of course, he smelled wonderful. I both melted and wished he was already gone so that I could look at him and feel thirteen in peace.
When he came back with our order, I had my voice back, enough to compliment his tan.
Isabel: You are so tan!
David: I guess I now do look like a gypsy.
Carla: Maybe moroccan.
Colinas: Not moroccan at all!
Carla: A bit, yes.
Colinas: He's too handsome to look moroccan.
(Everyone flinches a bit.)
David: Oh, you should see Julia. She's out in the sun all day now, with the kids, and she was already tan in July despite all the sunblock...
Isabel (in a futile attempt to control the conversation): Doesn't she burn, being blondish?
David (dismissively): She tans easily anyway.
Fina: Isabel says she's very pretty. Wait, we didn't order the Russian salad. Or the Spanish omelette.
David: They come with the drinks. Don't let Carla near them, though.
Carla pouted. Colinas did in fact push the dishes towards us and out of her reach. As I confirmed my suspicions about the omelet, Fina confirmed hers about them being girlfriends. Yes, the omelette tasted just like the one he made at Louisa's (impossibly good and knee-melting). Yes, they were in a relationship, Carla said, and don Carlos didn't know. Colinas seemed horrified at having been found out, and was silenced for a long while. Which made conversation easier. Fina's strange mood helped, too-she was bouncy and witty, which with Fina isn't always good.
21.20 David stopped by again, apologizing for not paying us enough attention. It truly was a busy night. He paid for a second round of drinks, brought chips, calamari and more omelette, and was very very nice with everyone, particularly Fina. I liked that, but couldn't string two words together. I didn't think I should speak, either; I was overwhelmed just by sitting there and marvelling at everything he did and said.
Until Fina acted on her fizzy mood, that is. It went like this:
David: So, you two are cousins?
Fina: Oh yes, best cousins. It's like best friends, but with the added bonus of being family.
Carla (who was keeping tabs both on Colina's ramblings and our side of the conversation): You do look alike.
Fina: Oh, but Izzy's prettier, isn't she?
David: I wouldn't say so. Besides, she is snottier (smiles teasingly at Isabel).
Isabel (rendered speechless by what sounded like affectionate banter): ...
Fina (to the rescue): But prettier. So what do you do when you are not waiting on people?
David: I chat girls up.
(Carla snorts in the background)
Fina: Really.
Isabel: He wants to teach.
Fina: Uh?
Isabel (clears throat): He wants to teach.
David: Ah! Yes. I finished Spanish and Catalan and I'm going to do a master on paedagogy next year.
Fina: You should totally meet our granddad then. But when you do, don't mention paedagogy. Nor homosexuality. We'll introduce you, if you promise. When are you free?
Isabel: ...
David: The day after tomorrow. Well, the night.
Fina: Great, then, you'll come to dinner. Grandpa needs fresh victims.
(Isabel really wants to be somewhere else.)
Fina: You two will be there, right? Carla can kick our ass at poker later, or we can drive back here and go somewhere nice. That is, if you don't fall in love with the library and chain yourself to a shelf...
Colinas: I don't think don Carlos would approve...
Fina: He'd understand. He hardly ever leaves the room himself.
Colinas: I meant, us staying for di--
Carla (patting Colina's knee to shut her up): Oh, you'll love the books, David.
David: If you don't think it would be--
Fina: Okay, may Izzy pick you up at, say, seven?
David (startled): O-kay...
(Isabel thinks she might die.)
Carla: He even has a signed poem from Lorca. From Lorca. Dedicated to the late señor de Burgos.
Colinas: And signed first editions of--
Fina: We'll have fun. Now run off to serve sangría and chat girls up.
David: Yeah. Here's my number. (Writes it in his his notepad and hands it to Fina with a nice boy's best try at a roguish smile.)
(Fina grins and passes it to Isabel without looking at it or even feigning interest, for God's sake.)
(David, oblivious as ever, saunters off.)
(Isabel is dead.)
***
Finally! :D Big hugs for the friends that kept reminding me I should write (rakshah, miina) and smooches for my best betas, hlbr, elizabeth_hoot and Vicky. Thank you all!
Chapter 10