32
Monday marks the beginning of the workweek. I haven’t heard from Fernando, and I’m almost grateful. Every time I think about what I did, I’m ashamed of myself. I’m a bitch. I took advantage of his weakness because he has feelings for me, and when I got what I wanted, I left him without consideration.
I look at my email a thousand times, but Eric does not answer. His silence is his response, and that upsets me even more. I’m such an idiot.
My supervisor comes in, and she is especially annoying today. Miguel tries to get her away from me and manages to distract her in the best way he knows how. I keep playing the fool and pretending I don’t know what’s going on. Deep down, I’m grateful Miguel is keeping her busy today.
The days pass, and my tattoo barely bothers me. I have followed all of Nacho’s instructions: it’s still under the plastic shield he gave me.
There’s still no news from Eric.
My supervisor, like always, continues dumping all manner of work on my desk, and I just deal with it. On Thursday, I go out for a beer with my friends. Nacho is with us, and he asks about my tattoo. He’s the only one who knows about it. We agree that I’ll come by his shop so he can see it.
Finally, it’s Friday, and in just a few hours, I’ll be on vacation.
There’s still no news from Eric, and though I try not to think about it, it pops into my head a thousand times a day.
I can hardly believe it when I turn off my computer and say goodbye to my colleagues. I’m going to be gone from that office for almost a month, away from it all, and that invigorates me more than I can say. After I leave the office, I go straight to Nacho’s. He examines the tattoo and tells me I can remove the protective plastic.
I have a message from my sister on my answering machine when I get home. She asks if my niece can stay with me for a couple of nights. She has plans with Jesús.
At nine that evening, my wonderful niece is dropped off and takes control of the TV while my sister—between sighs and wild gesticulations—tells me about her latest sexual escapades. When her mother leaves, my niece asks me to order pizza, and we stuff ourselves while watching the absurd Adventures of SpongeBob SquarePants. At midnight, we go to bed. Luz insists on sleeping with me; charmed, I give in.
On Sunday morning, my sister shows up, happy as a clam. “I can’t wait to tell you all about it!” she says as she hurries my niece out the door. My brother-in-law is waiting for them, double parked.
After a day lazing around on the couch, I find myself staring at my suitcase when evening rolls in. Tomorrow I’ll go to Jerez to spend a few days with my father. I get into bed and contemplate Eric’s lip print on the shade. I turn off the light and decide to sleep. I really need it.
My arrival at my father’s house in Jerez is, like always, cause for much celebration in the neighborhood. Lola, the local drunk, hugs me; Pepi, from the grocery, smooches me. When Bicharrón and Lucena see me, they greet me joyfully. They all love me because they all love my father. My father’s shop here is Flores Auto Body, where he’s worked most of his life. He is well known and well respected in the community.
Later that afternoon, while I’m taking a dip in the pool, Fernando comes by. I swim toward the edge and notice he’s wearing white slacks and an orange linen shirt. He’s as handsome as ever, and those colors complement his skin tones phenomenally well. He grins. This is a good sign.
“Hey, Jerez girl.”
“Hey!”
“It’s about time you came home, you ingrate!”
With his words and easy demeanor, he lets me know right away that everything’s OK and what happened between us is in the past. That’s comforting.
“Look who has come to visit, little girl. Do you want a beer, Fernando?”
“Thanks, Manuel, I’d love one.”
My father steps away, leaving us alone. We keep looking at each other and laughing.
“What?”
“You’re looking really good.”
“Thanks,” I say as I dry my face with the towel. “You too.”
I give him two quick kisses. His hands go to my waist.
“You’d better let me go,” I say, “or my father will tell your father, and they’ll organize a wedding in a matter of days.”
“If that’s the only way I get to see you more often, I accept!”
I laugh and he lets me go. We sit down.
“How’s everything going?”
“Well. And you?”
Fernando nods. He doesn’t want to go over what happened. At that exact moment, my father comes back with two beers, and a Coke for me.
For a good while, the three of us hang out by the pool. At eight, Fernando invites me to dinner. I’m going to say no, that I’m not in the mood, but my father quickly accepts for me.
Fernando takes me to a new restaurant, and we enjoy a very nice dinner. Fernando is engaging, and he can talk about anything. Afterward, we go to a little place for drinks.
“Judith,” he says when I least expect it, “if I invited you to go with me to Algarve for a few days, would you go?”
I almost choke.
“Where did that come from?”
Fernando leans on the table and pushes back a lock of hair that has fallen in my eyes.
“You know.”
I just stare at him, taken aback. The same thing, again? But before I can say anything, he throws himself at me and gives me a kiss.
“Listen, your boss is not good for you,” he says out of nowhere.
Is Fernando talking to me about Eric?
“Eric Zimmerman is not the man you think he is,” he says.
“What are you talking about?”
Fernando traces the shape of my face with his finger.
“Let’s say he moves in circles that aren’t good for you.”
My blood thins when I realize Fernando has been snooping around in my life.
“And what do you know about my boss and his circles?”
“Judith, I’m a cop, and it’s easy for me to find out certain things. Eric Zimmerman is a rich German magnate who likes women. He moves in very select circles and likes to engage in much more than just friendship.”
Knowing Fernando is aware of certain things about Eric disturbs me.
“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t care,” I say.
“Judith, I don’t care about your boss, but I do care about you,” he says, trying to explain. “And I don’t want you to make the wrong decision. I know who you are, I care about you, and I don’t want anybody to screw up what we have.”
“What we have? And what is it that we have?”
“What we have is what we have. We’ve liked each other for years and . . .”
“Oh God,” I whisper, horrified.
“Judith, that man . . .”
“Stop! I don’t want to hear you talk about my boss or about my private life, do you understand?”
Fernando nods, and then we’re trapped in an uncomfortable silence.
“Take me home or I’ll go on my own—you decide,” I say as I get up to leave. He stands up, swallows the last of his drink, and pulls the car keys from his pocket.
“Let’s go.”
He drives, and neither of us talks. When we get to my father’s, he cuts the engine.
“Judith, think about what I said,” he says.
He leans down and kisses me. When he touches my lips, it’s all sweetness, but I pull away. I get out and walk toward my father’s house, cursing under my breath.