Somehow, the night seems to be hotter than the day. Theair is thick and sweltering, like simmering soup, as Veraand I walk hand in hand to my parents’ front door. Theyhave no air-conditioning inside and I’m already chastising myself for wearing asuit, but even pushing forty, it’s hard not to dress up foryour parents. My mother had instilled it in me at a youngage, to always look nice for her, if not for my father, andit’s something I do now for Carmen, my stepmother.
We stand on the front steps and I squeeze Vera’shand appreciatively. We have dinner at their houseusually once a month, on whatever day my sister Luciacan fit into her social calendar. Vera gets along very wellwith my parents, especially now that she’s picked up abit of Spanish and can converse more with my non-English speaking father. Originally she was going to tryteaching him English but my father has the patience of acat, and that never amounted to anything.
Carmen opens the door with a bright smile on herface, the smell of anchovies and basil wafting in frombehind her. She’s quite a bit younger than my father, butno matter her age, she seems to give off this air ofvitality. I think she keeps my father young. Shedefinitely keeps the old grump on his toes.
“Mateo,” she cries out, and pulls me into a hardembrace. She smells like sage and earth, and her largeearrings rattle as she pulls away, holding me at arm’slength while she looks me over, as if I am just a boy andnot a man. I don’t mind.
She sweeps her eyes to Vera and takes her in like acool glass of water. It helps that Vera is dressed in ametallic silver shift dress, the kind you’d see in afuturistic version of the 1960s.
“Vera,” she says, “you look beautiful. Your dress,you’re really becoming quite stylish.”
Vera waves away the compliment as pink stains theapples of her cheeks. “Blame it on Spain,” she says witha smile. It’s true though, shopping in the windingalleyways of Madrid with her friend Claudia has becomeone of her favorite activities, and every day her ownsense of style and well-being seems to blossom.
I am aware that I am beaming at Vera proudly whenCarmen pinches my cheek quickly and says in Spanish,“You’re still as smitten as the first time. That makes mehappy, Mateo.”
Vera shoots me an inquisitive glance but I onlypress my hand into her lower back and usher her insidethe house.
There is a fan in every room, their constant whirringcompeting with the sultry sounds of Ella Fitzgerald onthe record player. My father is sitting in the living roomwith a glass of wine beside an open bottle, leaning backin his chair, eyes closed.
“Ignore him,” Carmen says, gesturing for us to sitdown while she places two extra glasses beside thebottle. “He’s pretending to be asleep. He’s mad at mebecause I wouldn’t let him put extra anchovies into thesauce.”
Sure enough, the moment she turns and heads backinto the kitchen, my father opens one eye in a rathercomedic gesture.
“Don’t worry, she’s gone,” Vera says in Spanish asI pour ourselves some wine.
My father smirks at her appreciatively and my chestfeels warm. I never have any doubts when it comes toour relationship, but I know most people do. It’s tiring tohave to explain why I’m with her, why she’s with me,why I left my wife, how I could do such a thing.
With my parents though, they never judged me.They understood in some ways that life doesn’t alwayshand you things in a neat package. It dollops them outhere and there in messy, confusing splatters, and whenyou see something amazing, you better drop what you’redoing and hold on with two hands. They know why Iheld on to Vera when I came across her and why I stillhaven’t let go. They know that true love only comes byonce, or twice, if you’re really lucky.
My father was one of the especially lucky ones. Helost the love of his life—my mother—and though it tookten years, he finally found Carmen. He never gave uphope or faith that he would find someone else for him.
We are joined by Lucia, who has come straightfrom her new job at one of the television stations. She’slively and talkative, and drinks most of the wine, but Ican’t help but retreat into myself, lost in thought. Timeslike this, with my family, trick me into thinking the pathVera and I have chosen is an easy one. It makes mecrave the warmth of a house, of a future, of my ownflesh and blood.
I stare across the table at Vera as she brushes awayward strand of hair behind her ear, her other handtucked under her chin, her smile and kind eyes focusedon Lucia as she describes her day to us with crazy handgestures. I’m not getting any younger, but neither isVera. I’m not with her just for the moment, she is notjust a passing fancy. I want Vera by my side for the restof my life.
It’s scary to think about. Not the commitment. Youwould think that after one marriage and a bitter divorce,I would have sworn off the whole concept of marriage.But my situation with Isabel never tainted the institutionfor me. It’s something I still believe in. If anything, Ibelieve more in getting it right.
I want to get it right with Vera. It’s a luxury I rarelylet myself think about because there are so manyunknowns, so many variables. That is what is so scaryabout it. What does Vera want? She’s only twenty-four—she hasn’t once mentioned marriage or children, oreven talked about that far into the future. It’s probablythose reasons why she feels so temporary sometimes.
But I don’t want that anymore. I want her here, withme, permanently. I don’t want there to be any fears overwhether she’ll be around, allowed to stay in the countryor otherwise. I don’t want any doubts when I think about my future. I want toknow she’ll be there with me with that same infectiouslaugh that makes my heart sing, her view of the worldthat challenges mine and makes me face toward thelight.
All that aside though, all my needs and my wantsand the things I dare dream about, is the fact that I don’twant to scare her off. I don’t want to push anything onher that she may not be open to. Sometimes she feelslike she’s on a different path than mine. I want to makesure this is something she wants on her own.
She catches me watching her, and a wash ofunderstanding slides over her eyes. I think for a momentthat perhaps this is her, wanting it, but then I realize sheis not a mind reader.
“Mateo got some interesting news today,” she says,as if I was prompting her.
I feel the eyes of everyone on me. I raise my browsat Vera. It’s true that I was going to tell them aboutAtlético’s offer, but now it seems trivial compared to myprevious thoughts. Even though it’s the chance toreclaim my career, to work for passion, that onlysolidifies what I want.
I clear my throat. “Well, I had a meeting with theowner and general manager of Atlético today.”
Everyone snaps to attention. I hadn’t mentioned tothem the previous times I met with them in case it turnedout to be nothing, so this is a bit out of the blue. Itexplains how Lucia’s groomed eyebrows seem halfwayup her forehead.
“What about?” Carmen asks, her tone high andhesitant.
I shrug casually. “They asked me if I would becomecoach in January to replace Diego. He’s going toArgentina. I have until Friday to decide.”
They are stunned. More stunned than when I firsttold them I was getting a divorce. Finally my father says,“Took the fools long enough.”
They are excited, happier for me than perhaps I am.They all think I could make a difference, that I’ll do anexcellent job, that I was meant for the position. They arenot wrong in any of this.
Vera is staring at me, her red lips quirked up to theside, her eyes shining. She looks like a girl and awoman, and I want nothing more than to make herproud. I want to embrace this change but only if she’sthere every step of the way.
Later, after we’ve all eaten the custard confectionthat Carmen prepared for dessert and we’re all sittingaround with tiny glasses of my father’s favorite cognac,Lucia pulls me aside. She takes me to the balconyoverlooking the gardens of the backyard and the fishpond, and pulls out a cigarette.
“I thought you quit,” I note, eyeing it disdainfullyas she lights up. Still, I can’t help but breathe in that firsthint of burning tobacco paper before it disappears intothe smell of tired heat and the fresh scent of theneighbourhood sprinklers as they whir in the night.
She rolls her eyes in a way that makes her look likea teenager. “I took it up again after Alvarez cheated onme.”
Ah yes, things didn’t end so well with her latestboyfriend. Not that I was surprised, since the man was anotorious player close to my age, one of those start-upbusiness millionaires. Lucia doesn’t seem to care mucheither, maybe that was part of the problem.
“When are you going to find a good man, someoneto settle down with?”
She laughs caustically at this and purses her lips asshe eyes me expectantly. “When are you going to settledown?”
I narrow my eyes. “I am newly divorced, Lucia.”
She tilts her head to the side but her expressiondoesn’t change. “We all know that. And the reason youare newly divorced, Mateo…I saw the way you look ather tonight. Every time I see you, it is always the same.”
I raise my hand to stop her and look out at the darkfoliage of the backyard and the lights of the nearesthouses. “Don’t compare it to food because I’ve heardthat one before.”
“You’re in love with her,” she says.
I shake my head. “Your powers of deduction areimpressive.”
“No, Mateo,” she says, and her voice is suddenlyserious. “I mean, really in love. You’re going to ask herto marry you, aren’t you?”
Her words shock me, and I quickly eye the house tomake sure no one is listening. “Can you not say that soloudly?” I ask, annoyed, more so that she’s figured meout than the fact she’s being so blunt about it.
“But it’s true,” she says between puffs. “Isn’t it?”
I sigh and run my hand over my face. “Vera is notready for that.”
“How do you know, have you asked her?”
“She is too young.”
“She is my age, more or less, and yet you justbrought up the same question to me. How come it issomething conceivable with me but not for her?”
“Because,” I say slowly, “I don’t wish to get myhopes up.”
She leans against the railing, watching me for a beatthat ticks on too long. I can feel all the conclusions she’sdrawing. “But your hopes are up, aren’t they? Look, Ilove Vera. I wish I knew her better, that we’d see eachother more often, but my dear brother is so selfish withher time. So I don’t know her like I should. But I don’tthink she’s going to run away from you in fear, Mateo.She’s a foreigner in this country, facing an uncertainfuture, barely speaking the language. She’s doing this allfor you. Maybe you should have more faith.”
I give her a look. “So is that why you brought meout here?”
She shrugs with one shoulder and blows out a cloudof smoke that hangs in the heavy air. “I was just curious.I thought, if you do, maybe I could help you pick out thering. Be involved in some way.”
Now this surprises me. Lucia and I are close, butbecause of our age difference, we’ve never been thatclose. “I see. I’m back with Atlético and now you wantto be friends with your big shot brother.”
She smiles at me. “So you are taking the job?”
I exhale slowly through my nose, but the doubt Ifelt from earlier, the doubt that holds back my words, isgone. “I don’t know. But I think so. I will tell them onFriday though, just to be sure.”
“Why wouldn’t you take it?” she asks.
“I don’t know. It could change everything, couldn’tit? I would be back in the public eye again. They seemedto like harassing us an awful lot when I was no longerpart of the team. How are they going to like me whenI’m the coach?”
She bites her lip and gives me a sympathetic look.“You are right,” she says, tapping her cigarette so the ashfalls to the floor. She brushes it off the edge of thebalcony with her foot to avoid Carmen having a heartattack. “But I think that’s a small price to pay for doingwhat you love, no?”
I can only hope that the price stays small.