February 17 – Tuesday
It took the whole morning before Amanda managed to pick up the courage to broach the subject with Carlos.
‘Carlos, remember you asked me to a salsa bar?’
‘Yes,’ he hardly looked at her and she had a feeling that maybe she had embarrassed him with her reaction, which was not what she would have expected or wanted.
‘Well, you sort of caught me off guard and I’m not sure that I gave you the answer that I should have.’
‘So, you want me to invite you again?’ he looked up from the row of plants before him.
‘Yes, or maybe I could ask you?’ She was feeling more courageous now as she looked into those delicious brown eyes. ‘Not that I would have a clue where to find a salsa bar, or even…’ she smiled now, hoped he’d find it endearing, even more that he’d see she hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings.
‘I think I could sort that piece out. Mrs King, I would love to go on a date to a salsa bar with you. Would I be free on Friday night? Yes, as it happens I would, and it also just so happens that I was going along anyway, so that’s handy.’ He ran his fingers through his thick black hair, ‘Pick you up around eight?’
‘I don’t mind driving, I could meet you there.’
‘No, it’s fine. Getting you there is the least I can do, now you’ve invited me out for the night.’ He shook his head and she wondered again, between all the banter, if he had asked her on a date or if it was just a casual drink because soon this job would be finished and he would be moving on to the next commission.
*
‘So, he’s a landscaper?’ Casper asked on the Thursday and Amanda felt like he was considering whether to give his permission to meet Carlos or not.
‘We’re just going for a drink, Casper, I’m hardly running off with him,’ she laughed a little nervously.
‘No, of course not, I know that.’ Casper said, but he dropped into a stool all the same, his tea steaming from the mug in his hand. ‘It’s just that you’re my mum and…’
‘Exactly, I’m your mum, you’re not my dad!’ She smiled at him and sat next to him. ‘Really, it’s just dinner. I think he feels he owes me for helping out in the square.’
‘Right,’ Casper didn’t sound convinced. ‘And if it was something more…’
‘It’s early days, Casper and I really don’t think I…’
‘I know, I know.’ He studied the mug before him intently for a while. ‘It’s just that, I know I’ve been a bit of a nightmare these last few years, but all of this,’ he looked around the kitchen, as though something had fundamentally changed. ‘I mean, Dad leaving and everything, well, I feel like it’s time I grew up a bit, took a bit of responsibility as the man of the house,’ he blushed a little.
‘Casper, there’s no need to feel like that.’
‘But there is, I’ve been horrible to you and you didn’t deserve it, if anyone deserved it, I think it was Dad, but…’
‘No, you can’t talk like that about your father, Casper, he’s being the best man he knows how to be and that’s all any of us can do.’ Amanda said quietly.
‘Well, maybe, but…’ he looked at her now, held her eyes for longer than she’d remembered him doing for years, ‘I just wanted you to know that I intend to be a better son from now on.’ He started to get up off his seat, take his mug with him, ‘and, by the way, I think I’ve decided on what I’d like to study in college,’ he nodded up towards the forms that had been sitting for weeks in a neglected cubbyhole above the fridge.
‘Oh, really?’ Amanda didn’t mind what he did, but of course, his father had aspirations for him in the banking sector.
‘Yes, I’m applying for the National College of Art and Design,’ he smiled at her and for the first time in a very long time, she could feel he was coming back to her in some indescribable way.
‘You don’t have to worry about me, you know that, don’t you?’ Amanda said to him gently. ‘All of this, with your Dad, it’s fine, you know.’
‘I know that,’ his smile reached all the way into his eyes, ‘we’re better than fine, I think, with all my friends being able to come and go and Tess popping in and out, this place has never felt more like home.’
‘But you wouldn’t fancy a strapping Italian hanging about?’ she laughed at him, then, biting her lip, she added happily, ‘not that I think that you have much to worry about on that score.’
‘Well, that would depend on how nice the Italian was to you, wouldn’t it?’ He put his arm about her shoulder, just for a moment and squeezed her gently and Amanda thought she might melt with happiness.
*
By Friday, Amanda had almost made herself nauseous trying to second-guess if this was an actual date or if it was just a casual drink among work colleagues.
Carlos arrived bang on time and he looked even dreamier in his white shirt and black jeans. She realised it was the first time she’d seen him clean-shaven. His skin seemed so soft she wanted to reach out her hand to caress it as you would an exotic fabric that was enticingly touchable. She managed to resist, but tingled warmly when he leant in to kiss her cheek. Robyn had selected a simple pair of black leggings for her and a pussy bow blouse that, teamed with her highest heels, made Amanda feel sexy but at the same time demure. She shelved her pearls and opted for drop earrings and Casper’s large watch on her wrist. Her leopard-print clutch and a spritz of perfume finished off the outfit.
Camino was a heaving, sweaty basement club. The music sent an anticipatory shiver through Amanda as they headed away from the dancing to a small tapas bar upstairs.
‘Hungry?’ Carlos asked her.
‘Ravenous.’ It was as though she hadn’t eaten all day long, then when she thought about it, she realised, what with nerves and time, she hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
‘Let’s order something here and then we can go dancing?’ Carlos showed her to a long table that filled the length of the restaurant. They squished up at the end and joined the group conversation there. Carlos seemed to know everyone. Later she realised that most people there had arrived in smaller groups and some on their own, but everyone was welcomed just the same. The wine flowed and conversation was lively. There wasn’t a mention of designer labels or the right place to holiday or anyone else’s dirty laundry. It was liberating to be among people who had no expectations of you or of the night before them, only that they were all intent on eating, drinking and being merry. The wine certainly made things easier and soon she and Carlos were chatting away as if they did this every weekend. No one seemed to notice that she was a decade and a half older than he was and, if they did, they were far too diplomatic to make it obvious that they had an opinion about it or perhaps they really just didn’t care.
‘Come on, let’s go dancing.’ He smiled at her and she thought she might turn herself inside out with desire for him. The music didn’t help either, nor did the movement, soon they were like two extras from Dirty Dancing gyrating their way across the floor. Amanda was throwing her hips and shoulders around with the best of them. After they had managed to sweat themselves into a fever of what Amanda knew for her was desire, the music slowed. Amanda thought she’d never heard such slow music and she felt herself blush as she leaned in close to Carlos. When he kissed her it was full and warm as if she was diving head first into heaven and she never wanted to come out again.
‘You’re happy?’
‘God, Carlos, this is…’ She was divinely happy. In this moment, she’d have traded everything with Richard – apart from her children of course – to stand here and feel the longing that pulsed between them. ‘I think it’s time we were leaving, don’t you?’ His eyes met hers and, although they didn’t speak, in some ways they’d exchanged a lifetime’s worth of words. ‘Let’s go.’ They went back upstairs and she grabbed her bag.
Outside, the air was icy cold, so her breath held on tight to it, warm, lingering and erotic.
‘So, you want me to drive you home,’ he said, looking at her from beneath his slightly too long fringe.
‘Well, maybe, unless you have a better idea?’ She leaned in close to him for emphasis. God, when did she turn into such a tease?
‘As it happens I do,’ he said and he pointed to the door behind them. It was a non-descript green door, same as any number of other old shop doors all around the city. ‘That’s my building, I live at the top.’ He pointed up to two small dormer windows that peeped out three storeys overhead. ‘Fancy a…’ he pulled her close, ‘coffee?’
‘God yes, and maybe more than one, if you’re up to it.’ They laughed their way up she didn’t know how many steps of stairs. There was no coffee, because once they got inside Carlos’s flat there was just a frenzied discarding of clothes and lovemaking.
Later, he woke her from deepest sleep and this time their lovemaking was slow, sublime and achingly zealous.
*
‘Richard?’ her phone rang just after seven.
‘Where are you?’
‘I’m…’ she tried to rub the sleep from her eyes, looked back towards Carlos who was stretching down the length of the bed, his tanned skin even more olive against the stark whiteness of his sheets. ‘Is there something wrong?’
‘No. Nothing, except that I’m here on Swift Square and my family seem to have left without even letting me know.’
‘Yes, well, we had plans for the weekend.’ The last thing she was going to do was tell him that Casper and Robyn had decided to sleep over with friends or that she had spent the night in the arms of a hunky Italian. ‘Why are you there?’ She watched Carlos make his way around the room, admired his muscular body move with the grace and fluidity of someone much lighter and daintier. God, but he was even more beautiful this morning.
‘I’ve come home to you. I’ve come back.’ Richard’s voice held an uncomfortable note of earnestness that sat at odds with the offhandness she’d grown used to over the years.
‘You’ve what?’ Amanda felt the words splutter from her mouth.
‘I’m moving back in. Things didn’t work out between Arial and me and I want to give us another go.’
‘You can’t just…’ Carlos was putting on a bathrobe. He moved as quietly as he could from the bedroom to give her some privacy. ‘Richard, you can’t just decide you’re going to swan back into our lives.’
‘Why not?’
‘Are you serious? You can’t just move back in and expect…’ Amanda started to search for the clothes that had been fired off so quickly the night before.
‘Of course I can, this is my home too after all, Amanda. I should never have moved out. It was a stupid thing to do, for so many reasons.’ She could hear him moving about, imagined him looking around the kitchen, seeing the cups stacked high in the sink and wrinkling his nose in disapproval.
‘Richard, I’m on my way home now, please, don’t think that this is okay. This is not okay, you can’t just do this…’ But the line went dead in her hand.
She scrabbled into her clothes as quickly as she could manage. In the tiny kitchen, Carlos was making them both coffees. It seemed the coffee maker took up most of the kitchen and the cup he handed her smelled heavenly. She looked around his flat. This was very much a single man’s domain. Framed cinema posters, an enormous L-shaped sofa – she found herself wondering how on earth he managed to get that up the flights of stairs and a huge television in the corner. What she wouldn’t give to stay here for just another few hours, but Richard’s call made that impossible. So, she drank her coffee, kissed him lightly on the lips and made her way back to real life.
Carlos had been a little present just for her; but now she had to go and finally sort out her husband. She knew, as she sat into a taxi, she had let things slide for too long. She needed to sort out her life and finally, sort out her marriage.