It takes me a few seconds to realize where I am. The room is inundated with sunlight and I’m hot. I push the covers off me and look around for the AC unit remote, lowering the temp to sixty-seven degrees. Just for a while, to cool the room. I’m all for conservation of energy, but right now I’m burning up.

Last night, I left the apartment and found a rental bicycle through the local bike rental app. Brad and I had used them several times during our stay. I biked to the nearest Walgreens and loaded up on water and a few snacks. I also loaded up on essentials like shampoo and body wash. I bought myself a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Brownie Batter Core and ate the whole damn thing on the balcony at midnight.

It was my fuck you to Brad in lieu of alcohol, for implying I should lose weight on more than one occasion during our marriage.

The universe must have listened to me, because as I ruminated over my misfortunes, I saw a shooting star and promptly made a wish.

My throat feels dry again, and I reach for the bottle of water by my bed.

I turn around and sit up against the wall, stretching my legs. I reach for my phone and check the time; it’s already 10:30 in the morning. I switch the phone on from airplane mode, and I wait to see if any messages pop up.

Nothing from Brad. He was supposed to go back to work this morning.

Still, if he wanted to talk to me, he could have messaged me.

I deserve more than someone who holds onto his pride like he does.

I take a shower and get dressed. The bathroom is tiny, but it has a small, shorter- and deeper-than-average tub, and I can’t really complain. Opening the window, I take in the view that’s the best-selling point of this apartment.

I was already falling in love with this place last night, but now I know there is no going back. I might never want to leave. I look at the mountains, at the perfect blue sky, and for the first time in a long time, I feel at home. Laughing to myself, I think how I’m miles and miles away from home, but I’m cozy and comfortable in this tiny space that’s all my own.

Good morning, Albuquerque.

Closing my eyes, I try to feel even just a twinge of remorse for not going back to LA. I imagine the traffic, the smog, the noise. There’s nothing.

When I open my eyes again, everything about this view makes me happy. I’m not filled with despair. I’m alone, but loneliness hasn’t found me.

I make a pot of coffee with the ground beans I bought at the convenience store last night, and sit down to fire up my laptop.

That’s when I realize I don’t know if I have Wi-Fi access.

I pull out the ad I got at Esteban’s restaurant last night, trying to see if Wi-Fi is even listed as one of the amenities.

Phew, it is.

I look around to see if there’s any booklet with details and info about my new apartment’s amenities.

Then, I remember that Lupe had just listed my cozy home for rent, and there might have been a few things she forgot to mention, as well as things I forgot to ask her.

I decide to head downstairs and talk to Lupe.

Also, I need to make sure it’s a good connection, otherwise I won’t be able to get any work done. I might have to go to a café. And if I do stay, I might have to pay for a more reliable service for my line of work.

I walk through the courtyard, admiring the building on the other side of Lupe’s property. Pots containing geraniums and other plants are scattered around the perimeter of the buildings.

When I cross the threshold of the shop, I hear Lupe chatting animatedly with someone, but I can’t see her. I walk around and take a turn in the L-shaped store, spotting her and Esteban in a corner of the shop. I can’t make out what she’s saying, but I see her frown with her finger pointed at him. I wonder what they could be arguing about.

“Hello.” I hesitate, wondering if I should come back later. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I say as they both turn toward me, eyes wide, as if they’ve been caught red-handed.

Again.

Lupe presses her lips together and grumbles, eyeing her brother as if he’s getting on her nerves. She pushes him away playfully. Esteban doesn’t notice, and doesn’t even move at Lupe’s shove, eyes fixed on me.

I might as well be naked, stripped by the intensity with which he’s looking at me.

Once again, I know his scrutiny should bother me, and yet, it doesn’t.

My hair is down, scattered in loose waves on my shoulders and back, still partly wet from the shower. I’m wearing one of the few items of clothing I have here with me, a red sundress with tiny flowers and thick straps that form knots on my shoulders.

His wild eyes roam my body and the way he appraises me makes me shiver. Blood rushes to my cheeks and I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. Goose bumps cover my body, causing my nipples to harden. The contact of my skin against the fabric of my dress reminds me I don’t have a bra on. I fight the impulse to cross my arms and cover myself, because that would probably only attract focus to my décolleté. I wait for him to break eye contact, but he doesn’t look away, as if he’s completely hypnotized by my presence. He can’t take his eyes off me and I can’t recall if a man has ever looked at me the way Esteban does. He studies me like I’m the center of the universe.

He looks at me like I’m the most magical, beautiful creature, holding the secret to eternal happiness. My blush deepens, and the secret pleasure I take from his gaze increases. I do find it strange just how much it doesn’t bother me. The butterflies return once more, stirring in my belly.

Why doesn’t it bother me that he’s staring at me like he wants to eat me? Why does it make me feel happy and all warm and fuzzy inside instead? 

“I can come back later. I’m sorry to interrupt,” I tell them, running a hand through my wet hair and realizing I don’t have any makeup on.  I should have at least checked my appearance before coming downstairs, but I didn’t consider the possibility of seeing him this morning. Why do you even care? a voice inside me asks.

“You didn’t interrupt anything,” Lupe says. “Esteban was just leaving.”

“Oh,” I reply, unable to hide the disappointment in my voice.

“Yeah, I was.” He glares at his sister. “I wanted to check and see how you were doing. Lupe said we should leave you alone. I didn’t agree,” he says, giving his sister another brief, loaded look, shoving his hand in the pockets of his jeans. His jeans are black like the ones he wore yesterday, but he’s wearing a white tee that clings to his torso and reveals much more of his build than the button-down he had on last night.

I can’t help but notice his strong biceps and his dark skin contrasting with the white of the tee. He brushes his hair away from his forehead and I take a few steps closer.

He’s strikingly beautiful. Every time I think how attractive he is, I’m attacked by a wave of guilt, because I realize that men should be the last thing on my mind right now.

Somehow, I can’t stop gawking at him and I can’t deny he’s beyond handsome. I try to downplay it in my head, justifying my mild obsession by telling myself that his attractiveness is something no one could deny.

“I’m doing okay. Thank you. Thank you both for your help last night. I was about to start working, but I forgot to ask Lupe for the Wi-Fi password.”

“Oh, you’re right. That was silly of me. Wait here, I’ll get it for you.”

Esteban and I are left alone in the corner of the store where the walls are covered with strands and strands of necklaces made of all kinds of different stones. There are strands of topaz, turquoise, lapis, jade, and opal.

I step closer to Esteban and run my fingers down a particularly beautiful row of lapis beads. I can hear Lupe rummaging around the counter on the other side, opening and closing drawers, looking for the Wi-Fi password, while all Esteban and I manage to do is study each other without saying a word. His face is so unique and beautiful, a mix of Hispanic with maybe a bit of Native American traits, distinguished and proud. His green eyes are a brighter green this morning, and the gold specks in them are easier to see, reminding me of a feral cat.

“You said you were about to start working?”

His words bring me out of my daze, and I glance briefly at his lips before meeting his eyes.

There are only a few inches between us, and I need to fight the strange magnetic pull to get closer to him. What’s happening to me?

“Yes. I was.”

“What do you do? I don’t think we ever talked about that last night.”

“You’re right, we didn’t get a chance. I’m a freelance graphic designer. I’m one of those annoying people who can work pretty much anywhere with a computer and an internet connection,” I say with a self-deprecating eye roll.

“I see. You’re one of those people who claim they can work in their pajamas.”

“Not always pajamas,” I tease. He breathes an almost incredulous laugh, and then scans me from head to toe again, lingering on the dress I’m wearing. Esteban’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down. His perusal pauses on my shoulders, as if he were trying to figure out how to undo the knots of my dress. He clears his throat, pushes his hair away from his face, and looks away. Even with his skin tone, I see a faint red hue color his cheeks. It’s one of the most endearing things I’ve ever seen, and I bite my lips to hold back my smile. Brad never blushed, even in the early stages of our relationship. He was always bright and confident, cocky even. I liked that about him, but seeing Esteban flustered like this, has me all…out of sorts in a way. In a very good way.

My stomach flips again, and my panties dampen.

Settle down, Ines.

What am I doing, crushing for a man I’ve barely just met? What am I doing crushing on a stranger when I’m still married to someone else? Why do I have this overwhelming urge to know him and have him around me?

It happened last night, too, when we said goodbye. Part of me didn’t want to let him go. It was the strangest pull.

“Are you thinking about staying? You didn’t change your mind by any chance?” he asks, clearing his throat once again. I frown, considering his words. I suppose that’s a legitimate question. From the outside it might have looked like a married couple’s quarrel, but my marriage with Brad had been long on the rocks before this vacation. Still, I can’t be completely sure until I talk to my husband…who hasn’t even called or texted today.

I shrug. “All signs point to yes,” I tell him, not needing to say more than that. The grin spreading across his face tells me he caught my terrible Magic 8-Ball humor. The smile on his face falls much too soon, however, and it saddens me when his expression becomes somber.

“Have you heard from your husband?” he asks, with a tone so concerned it tells me he’s truly worried about me. At the mention of Brad, my stomach is in knots. It’s not just that I don’t understand why I have such a strong reaction to his question. Aside from the butterflies and the ache in my chest, I honestly don't want to talk about him. Somehow, discussing Brad with Esteban doesn’t feel right.

“Not really.” I don’t want to tell him how every text I got from Brad last night was a “fuck you, bitch” message. I can’t see our communications getting any friendlier today. I wonder when and if he’ll change his tune. But I don’t intend to fall for his games again.

Brad’s ego is bruised right now. And goddamn if I don’t know how easily it bruises. It might be days before he decides to start playing nice and before he’ll apologize for anything, if ever.

Problem is, I don’t think I ever want to play nice with him again. I’m tired of going through the same pattern over and over. Argue, fight, make up. We’ve done it for years, and I’m at the end of my rope. I don’t think I love him anymore. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve felt in love with him.

“Okay, here’s the password. So sorry about that.”

“Actually, that reminds me, I need to pay you for the apartment.”

“You’re staying?” she asks, incredulous.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that? Yes, I am.”

“It’s just…we weren’t sure you would want to stay. If there’s anything else we can do to help you out with your…situation, please let us know,” Lupe says in a tone sweeter than anything I’ve heard her say so far. She glances briefly in Esteban’s direction, and he straightens up immediately, somewhat flustered.

“I should go. I’m glad you’re doing okay…Ines.” The way he says my name sends a shiver down my spine and my skin erupts into goose bumps. I tell myself I’m acting stupid, but when I glance at him and meet the intensity of his eyes, the air leaves my lungs.

“I’ll talk to you later, Lupe,” he says to his sister and then nods slightly in my direction. I nod my head, unable to say anything, and regret it immediately.

I stifle my need to run after him and say something, the words almost bursting out of my chest.

“Thank you for checking on me, Esteban,” I say, loud enough for him to hear me as he’s about to walk past the store’s entrance. He stops in his tracks and turns slightly, a charming grin stretching slowly across the side of his face visible to me.

Once again, I’m taken aback by how strongly I’m pulled toward him. Too many emotions surface that I’m not prepared to handle.

Excitement mixed with guilt and curiosity.

He walks out of my line of sight and all I can think of is when I’ll see him again.

 

 

Brad: I think we should talk.

 

Brad texts me later that night. I knew we had to talk again, at some point, but when the phone buzzes and I read his name, I’m not ready. I’m still hurt and resentful, and a bit puzzled at how our lives together changed so quickly. I know I owe him at least the decency of talking to him. Maybe he’s had a chance to calm down and will actually listen to me for once.

 

Me: You’re right. I think we should.

 

Brad: Can I call you now?

 

Me: Sure.

 

I expect him to call my phone; instead he FaceTimes me. I don’t know why answering his FaceTime bothers me—it just does. I still have the image of a furious Brad in my head, and the last thing I want to do is see his face now. I accept his call reluctantly.

“Hey.” He’s sitting outside in our backyard.

“Hey, you,” he answers, taking a swig of his beer, looking happily buzzed and maybe a little high.

I refrain from asking him if he had a good day, because that’s beside the point right now. We have more important things to talk about. As of last night, he was threatening to divorce me and leave me with nothing. I put most of what I got from selling my parents’ house toward our mortgage. He’s going to have to buy me out of what’s mine.

“So…have you calmed down? Do you want to talk now? I don’t understand where your breakdown even came from,” Brad says, gesturing with his free hand.

I shake my head in disbelief. Is he for real?

“Brad…I don’t even know where to start with you.” I scratch my head, searching for words to relay my thoughts. “Before we get into it, how about I tell you that those are not the words you should say to me right now? You were the one who stormed out of the restaurant last night like an insane person. You were the one who caused a scene.”

He tries to interrupt me, “Babe—”

“Don’t babe me. You called me, remember? You said you wanted to talk. I thought you wanted to work things out. If you’re trying to make up, accusing me of being wrong right from the start won’t get you very far. You should know better.”

“Jesus, Ines, come on. Can’t I even make a joke? Are you that thin-skinned that you can’t take a little teasing?”

“Teasing? Do you think it’s the right time for teasing?” I frown. “Wait. Help me understand. Have you forgotten what happened between us last night?”

“No, Ines, I didn’t forget,” he says in a deprecating tone. “It was fucking humiliating, okay? To have your wife snap like that in front of everyone and hear she’s not coming home? To have a stranger tell me to leave my wife alone? How did you expect me to react?”

“It was all right to be upset, but you didn’t want to talk about it, remember? Things would have been different if you could have kept your cool. I expected you to at least try to listen to what I had to say, but you didn’t. You just stormed out of the restaurant like a crazy fool.”

“We were supposed to get on a plane, helloooo! Some of us have real responsibilities, you know,” he says in an accusatory tone.

I scoff. “Here you go again. What are you trying to say, exactly? I pay my share of our bills. I have a job. We’ve talked about this before. Because I do freelance work doesn’t mean I don’t work. I’m not a trophy wife, Brad.”

“Whatever you say, Ines,” he says, waving me off.

This is not how I imagines this conversation would go down. I thought I would be talking to apologetic Brad, let’s-make-it-work Brad or I-love-you-and-I-can’t-live-without-you Brad.

But it seems I was wrong.

“I don’t understand what’s going on here, Ines. What…happened?” he almost slurs, but then his lips curl into a sad grin, and I realize he really is high.

“Jesus…couldn’t you wait to get high until after we talked?”

“I needed…courage,” he says. “I was nervous. I couldn’t sleep last night and this morning I was a wreck. I ended up calling in sick.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” You don’t have to apologize, I tell myself.

“What happened last night, Ines?”

I raise my eyebrows and close my eyes. Right now, it’s like dealing with a version of Brad who suffers from a severe case of amnesia.

“I can’t talk to you like this.”

“Don’t hang up. Please.” He’s pleading, but I don’t have it in me to fall for it. Am I being cold-hearted or self-preserving?

“Tell me what I did wrong. Help me understand,” he says.

“You were impossible the whole vacation. Do you know how many times we fought about stuff?”

“No, I didn’t count. We didn’t fight, did we?”

“Brad, are you serious? We had at least four arguments a day. While we were on vacation, Brad. While we were supposed to relax and reconnect. You said so yourself. Instead, this vacation was far from relaxing. It was stressful as hell for me, and I think it’s time to face the music. Things aren’t working between us. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“You don’t love me anymore.” He bites his bottom lip. My heart hurts for him, because I honestly believe that he loves me, even though he’s a terrible husband. But if I’m serious about changing my life I cannot let myself fall for this. It would only mean getting back on the carousel and starting all over again, until the next big round of fights.

“It’s hard to love someone who berates you constantly.”

“I don’t do that,” he says defensively, and I arch an eyebrow back at him.

“How can you say that? Did you really forget about all the arguments we had over stupid stuff just a couple days ago?”

He stares at me, looking apologetic, but he doesn’t say a word.

“And it’s not just the fighting, Brad,” I let out with a deep sigh. “I don’t think we’re right for each other. We aren’t a good match.” I deserve better. Better than you. “I haven’t been happy for a long time, and I don’t think you have either.”

“That’s not true. I love you, Ines.”

“You might love me, but you have a crap way of showing it. A minute ago you were treating me like I have no real job or like I don’t contribute at all. All these little things hurt me, Brad. They have over the years. I’ve told you before how every time you belittle me you make me feel bad about myself. I don’t want to do that anymore. I can’t keep doing this to myself.”

“We can try therapy,” he offers.

“You won’t listen when I try to tell you how you make me feel, but you’ll listen to a therapist? I doubt that.”

“Are you saying that this is it? Are we getting divorced?”

“I guess so. That’s what I want.” I look down and avoid his eyes.

A noise in the distance startles me.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” he says, pinching his nose, and only then I realize the bottle is not in his hands anymore. It’s probably shattered all over the concrete patio. Another outburst.

We are both quiet for a minute, and I can’t even bear to withstand more of this video call.

“Are you seriously staying in Albuquerque?”

I shrug and try to give him the most diplomatic answer I can come up with.

“I don’t think cohabitating is in our best interest. Los Angeles is hella expensive and Lily’s apartment is too small for me to stay there for a while. I would rather stay here for the time being.”

“Ines…” His voice is deep and laced with emotion. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can say to make you change your mind?”

I press my lips together and try to break it to him as gently as I can.

“No, Brad. I’m afraid there’s not.”