Love, in English

“Then what do you propose I do?” I hated that she was right. The walls wouldn’t protect me, not the ones in this room, not the ones I had carefully built around my heart.

“You want my advice?” she asked. I nodded. She got off the bed and stared down at me. “I say, fuck it. Go for it. The damage is done. You’re leaving in a few days. You might as well spend the little time you have left together. Don’t regret anything. Go be with him. Soon, he will only be a memory.”

My eyes started to water at that. I nodded and exhaled loudly. The damage was already done. I could hide from him, leave him, leave Spain feeling that I never quite touched the stars. Or I could go for it, risk the cold of deep space for a chance to feel alive. If he was going to be nothing but a memory to me, if he was going to go on with his life and I was to go on with mine, I wanted a memory that would change me, make me born anew.

I looked at her, feeling stripped again. “Is it wrong that it makes me so happy to think a man like him could ever want a girl like me?”

“I told you that the heart has no regard for time,” she said, walking to the door. “The heart has no regard for what’s right or what’s wrong.” She paused in the doorway. “Forget Jerry’s table seating. I’m saving a seat for you so you better hurry up!”

She left the room, shutting the door. The walls crumbled around me.

At breakfast, everyone looked hung over. I tried to make eye contact with Mateo but he was sitting with Wayne, Eduardo, and Polly. I guess the whole seating rules went out the window and everyone was sitting with their friends.

True to her word, Claudia saved me a seat, and I sat with her, Ricardo, and Becca. Becca showed me pictures on her phone that explained why everyone looked so rough. After I left, the drinking and partying went on for a long time. A part of me was sad that I missed that, but I knew I made the right choice in leaving. I could have ended up like Sammy who, in one picture, was making out with Froggy Carlos, and in the next, she was making out with the ma

I barely ate anything at breakfast, which was all due to nerves this time. My skin felt like it was vibrating and my knee kept bouncing beneath the table. From time to time I glanced over at Mateo, hoping to make eye contact but Wayne’s big fat head was always in the way.

As soon as Jerry updated the schedule for the day, I was over there, looking it over in hopes that I had a session with Mateo.

I did. A business session after lunch, much like our first session together.

The siesta.

A shiver rolled down my back at the thought.

The next few hours ticked by like molasses, not to say I wasn’t enjoying myself. I had one-on-ones with Sara, Manuel, and Paco, which went fine. With Sara we talked about her job, with Manuel we talked about music, with Paco we talked about immigration issues in Spain. It was an amazing improvement when you thought back to how they were at the start of the month. Now we were all able to converse fluently, and like old friends.

I didn’t get to see Mateo at lunch either. He had come in late and taken the table closest to the door, unfortunately having to sit with Lauren. After a while I started to think that maybe he was ignoring me. Maybe he regretted what we did last night and decided he didn’t want anything to do with me. I wouldn’t have been surprised, considering the situation he was in, but I had to say the thought was slowly ripping me apart.

I was still thinking it, sitting outside in the sunshine, about to pull my Kindle out of my purse and catch up on my latest Game of Thrones novel, when Mateo appeared in front of me.

My heart slowed and I slowly looked up.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, hands in his jean pockets. He was now wearing his casual garb again—grey fitted t-shirt, worn jeans. His hair was all messy black waves and hanging a bit in his face, begging to be touched. His eyes were luminous, like starlight.

“You were?” I asked.

“I was worried about you after last night.”

I smiled awkwardly. “Yes, well…I am better now.”

“Good.” He held out his hand for me. I noticed he wasn’t wearing his Rolex and there was a faint tan line where it had been. He was still, of course, wearing his wedding ring. “I noticed we have a session after our break. Would you like to go for a walk with me?”

I stared at the ring on his finger. I thought about what it meant. Then I thought about what he meant to me. Cautiously, I reached out and gave my hand to him. He pulled me up to my feet, my long skirt flowing around my legs like water.

“I’d love to go for a walk with you,” I said. “Maybe we can find a tree to sleep under.”

His eyes danced and he squeezed my hand, causing the nerves in my arm to quake. “Maybe.”

He didn’t keep holding my hand, however, not that I expected him to. But as we walked down the hill toward the country road, he kept moving closer to me, our hands brushing against each other. After knowing what his kiss was like, I was still surprised that the lightest bit of contact between us set my skin alight. The man was ruining me, bit by bit.

We strolled up the road away from Acantilado, not saying very much, just enjoying each other’s company, the sweet-smelling breeze, and the heat that baked us between the sun and the hard earth. The air buzzed with cicadas and floated with butterflies. The fields shimmered with haze. Summer was officially here.

“Tell me, Vera,” he said. “What are you going to miss the most about Spain?”

“You,” I said automatically. It was the truth, there was no getting around it, not anymore.

He had such a beautiful smile. “I am glad for that. But you’ll miss the country too, yes?”

I nodded. “Definitely. In fact, I think I belong here more than I do back at home. This place…makes you feel alive. It gives you, I don’t know, spirit.”

“Spain looks good on you,” he said. “You can see it on your face. I think you could be happy here.”

My smile shrank a little. “I think so too…”

“Sometimes your home isn’t where you were born,” he noted.

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, though I knew what he said was true.

Mateo suddenly grabbed my hand. He took me to the side of the road and lifted up the top wire of a fence, about to lead me through it. I stepped under, careful not to trip, and we walked, hand in hand, across a golden field of tall grass and brilliant wildflowers. In the distance was a picturesque oak tree, its shimmering green canopy leaning over the tawny ground.

We went over to the tree, the grass tickling my bare legs as I held up my skirt and stood at the edge of the shade, looking at the field, at Mateo. The grass and the flowers practically swallowed the trunk of the tree, and there wasn’t really a clear area to even sit.

“Not really the best tree to have a nap under,” I said.

He shrugged, the sunlight dappled on him through the leaves above. “It looked better from far away.”

He was still holding my hand. As if we both noticed this at the same time, he went and grabbed my other hand and squeezed both. He dipped his chin and gazed intently at me. Whatever polite façade we were demonstrating a few moments ago was quickly disappearing. I could feel the change between us, the tension growing thicker, calling attention to it, to us. To what we were and what was unresolved.

It called attention to everything. And each moment that Mateo held onto me with his strong hands, every second that his deep eyes bore into mine, seeking and searching, the tension intensified.

“Vera.” He said my name like silk and I knew I would never grow tired of hearing it. I looked down, unable to bear the impassioned look on his face. “I never got a chance last night to tell you how I feel.”