47
On August 27, I return to work.
My supervisor is on vacation, and that helps ease my reentry. The best thing for me is not to have her toxic presence around right now. Miguel isn’t here either, and I miss his jokes. But I’m in such an apathetic mood that I would rather no one look at me or talk to me.
Every time I go into Eric’s office or into the archive room, my heart drops to my feet. I can’t help but think about him—the things he said to me, the things we did there—and it’s a great struggle for me not to cry.
My friends haven’t gone on vacation, so I see them now and again in the evening after the gym, and we go to the movies or for drinks. My good friend Nacho tries to talk to me, but I refuse. I don’t want to remember what happened. Eric is still much too present in my heart, and until I can find a way to forget him, I know my life won’t get back to normal.
On August 31, I get a text from Fernando. He’s in Madrid until September 4 because of a case he’s working on, and he’s staying, like always, at a hotel near my apartment. We agree to meet.
I take him to dinner at Cava Baja, and then another night, we go to a Japanese restaurant. After dinner on those nights, we meet up with my friends for drinks. To my surprise, I see that he and my friend Azu have great chemistry, and that pleases me. Fernando continues to behave like a friend, and I’m grateful. On September 3, my supervisor, Miguel, and practically the entire Müller staff return to the office. We’re soon at our usual frenetic pace, and my supervisor has me drowning in a sea of paperwork. Miguel has returned from vacation in a grand mood. While we work, he tells me stories that always make me laugh. The office phone rings, and my supervisor asks me to come to her office.
“Please sit, Judith,” she says, and I comply. “As you’ll remember, Mr. Zimmerman’s visit to the Müller branches in Spain had to be postponed until after summer.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve just spoken with Mr. Zimmerman, and those visits are now being rescheduled.”
My stomach gets queasy, and I feel quite uncomfortable. Just hearing about him makes me anxious. Seeing Eric again is what I want, although I know it’s not the most advisable thing for me.
“I need you to prepare the pertinent dossiers about the branches. Mr. Zimmerman wants to leave on Wednesday.”
“No problem.”
I stand up. I’m going to see him on Wednesday. I’m just about to scream like some madwoman when my boss says, “Judith, come on . . . don’t stand there like a half-wit.”
I start to leave her office.
“This time, I will accompany Mr. Zimmerman,” she says suddenly. “He asked me himself when I met with him at Villa Magna yesterday.”
Hearing that almost gives me a stroke. My absurd fantasies about seeing him again go up in smoke, but I manage a meek smile anyway. Eric is in Madrid, and he hasn’t called me. When I leave her office, my legs begin to tremble, and I hurry to my desk. Miguel notices.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It must be the heat,” I respond.
I leave the office as if in a trance. I’m offended. I’m furious. I go to the parking garage and get into my car. When I pass by Eric’s hotel, I take a detour down one of the side streets and park. Like an idiot, I start toward the hotel, but I don’t go in. I stand just a few yards from the door without knowing what to do.
For about an hour, my mind is bubbling and trying to find clarity, when suddenly, I see his car drive up. It stops in front of the hotel, and out pop Eric and . . . Amanda Fisher! They’re both smiling, and as they enter the hotel, they look as if they’re having a great time.
What is Amanda doing in Madrid?
What is Amanda doing at that hotel?
The answers collide with each other, and I grow even angrier as they become clear to me. Mad at the world and blinded by what I’ve just seen, I get into my car and head directly to Fernando’s hotel.
When I arrive, I go straight to his room. I knock on the door. He’s surprised to see me.
“Don’t tell me we agreed to meet and I forgot!”
I don’t respond. I throw myself at him and kiss him. When he sees my enthusiasm, he closes the door. Still without speaking, I continue my assault while he takes off my jacket and then unbuttons my slacks, letting them fall to the floor.
I quickly step out of them, and though I still have my heels on, Fernando throws me on the bed as I desperately unbutton his jeans.
“What are you doing, Judith?”
Again, I don’t respond. A fury has taken over my body, and I need to vent however I can. When he sees me so heated, Fernando quickly pulls his T-shirt over his head and kisses me again.
“Judith . . . ,” he whispers, and pulls away. “Is something wrong? I don’t want you to . . .”
“Fernando . . . shut up and fuck me.” My bluntness paralyzes him for an instant, but his desire for me sends him into action without a second thought. He silently takes off his pants, his underwear, and reveals his naked and erect penis. I’m breathing heavily, and the heat is rising all over my body. Then I remember something.
“Hand me my bag.”
He immediately gives it to me, and as I pull out the lipstick-shaped vibrator Eric gave me and told me to always carry with me, Fernando puts on a condom.
“Take my panties off me.”
His fingers pull on the elastic as he begins to carefully lower them. That’s when he sees my tattoo.
“‘Tell me what you want,’” he reads.
I’m nude from the waist down, and I open my legs for him.
“Look at me,” I whisper, “please.”
Still stunned by my tattoo, he nods. I turn on the vibrator and place it where I know it will give me pleasure. My body reacts instantly and I moan. I close my eyes and pretend it’s Eric, not Fernando, in front of me.
I rub the vibrator on my clit, whimper, and squeeze my legs tight when I feel my pleasure discharging. Suddenly, a pair of hands brings me out of my private dream, and I’m forced to open my eyes. Excited, Fernando makes his way between my legs and penetrates me. I cry out and he grunts. My vagina clenches, and I hear him moan.
My desire to forget everything makes me so alert that I turn the vibrator up, scream again, and put it all the way inside me. When he sees that, Fernando takes the vibrator from my hands, grabs my thighs, and plunders my body over and over again. He is tireless and continues to pillage me with welcome and forceful onslaughts. But I need more. I need Eric.
I think about him and how he makes me tremble with his demands. That’s when I feel Fernando surround my back with his hands. With one move, he lifts me off the bed and leans me against the wall. His mouth aims for mine, and he kisses me as he pushes me down on his sex again and again.
“Judith . . .”
Crazed, I look at him with watery eyes. When he sees the state I’m in, his thrusting halts.
“Don’t stop, please . . . not now.”
He takes up his hip movements anew. I stay crushed against the wall until I get what I want. I give myself to him in a fever. I don’t even realize when I scream Eric’s name, and then Fernando and I climax together.
I stay in his arms for a few minutes. I feel the worst ever. I don’t know what I’ve done or even why I’ve done it. When Fernando releases me, I go to the bathroom without looking at him. I wash and look at myself in the mirror. The smeared mascara gives me a really deplorable look. In fact, I couldn’t look worse.
Five minutes later, a bit more put together, I come out of the bathroom, and Fernando is waiting, dressed, on the bed. I see the vibrator and wordlessly pick it up and put it back in my bag. I’ll wash it at home. I get dressed and sit back on the bed, in front of him. I owe him an explanation.
“Fernando . . . I don’t know how to explain this to you, but the first thing I want to do is apologize.”
He nods. “Apology accepted.”
“Thank you.”
We just look at each other for a few seconds.
“You know I love doing what we just did. I like you a lot, and if it were up to me, I’d spend all day kissing you and . . .”
“Fernando, please don’t make this harder than it already is.”
“The tattoo is for him, isn’t it?” he asks rather abruptly.
“Yes.”
I can see he has a thousand things to say.
“You didn’t come over because you wanted to have sex with me. Or because you wanted to see me. You even said his name while I was making love to you. I mean, goddamn it.”
“What?”
“You said his name.”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”
“No, don’t be sorry. It made it clear why you were here.”
“I’m so ashamed . . . I don’t know why I chose you for this. I could have . . .”
“Listen, Judith,” he says as he takes my hand. “I’d rather you come to me, even if you’re thinking of someone else, than have you do something crazy with some stranger.”
“Oh God . . . I’m going nuts! I . . . I . . .”
“Judith, I promised myself I wouldn’t talk about that man again, and I don’t want to do it. You know what I think of him, and that hasn’t changed. I just hope you come to understand what you’re doing and why.”
We both get off the bed. I turn to leave, and he follows me. When I reach the door, Fernando grabs me by the waist, turns me around, and kisses me. It’s a very passionate kiss.
“You’ll always have me; you know that, right?” he whispers when we separate. “Even if it’s just to use me as a sex toy.”
I give him a playful punch. Seconds later, I leave the room, dazed.
When I go to get my car, I think about my friend Nacho, and without a second thought, I make my way to his tattoo studio. The minute he sees me, he’s worried about my state. He doesn’t know what’s wrong, but he can sense I need to talk. He invites me to dinner.
That night, Nacho shows me what a good friend he is. I don’t tell him Eric is my boss or anything about our intimacy. I don’t want him to know that. But about the rest, about our strange relationship, I tell him everything. After hearing me out, he tells me to put my pride aside; he says that if I miss Eric that much, I should try to talk to him because I’m the one who left. He’s right, and when I get home, I open my laptop and send Eric a message:
From: Judith Flores
Date: September 3, 2012, 11:16 p.m.
To: Eric Zimmerman
Subject: Are you better?
Hi Eric,
I’m sorry I left the way I did. I feel very bad about it, and I ask your forgiveness. I hope you’re feeling better. Please, call me and let me apologize face-to-face. Will you do that for me?
I love you and miss you.
Jude
I don’t write anything else. I send it and wait for three hours for an answer. I know he’s read it. I know that in his hotel room, his computer buzzed and let him know he received a message. I know all that, and it makes me suffer.