Boy For Rent

by Mayte Esteban

  * * *

  Morning quarrel. Raúl cuts in front of her in the bathroom. Paula asks her mother’s permission to use hers, but she already knows the answer in advance. Her mother is fussy. And there’s no reason for it! If she were a pig like her brother, who doesn’t pick up his towel and leaves his hairs everywhere... But she’s not like that. Her mother wouldn’t even realize she’s been there. And to top it off, this morning she’s in a rush, because she wants to leave the house before eight. The first thing she did upon waking was look at her cell phone. She thought the message she received was a dream. But it was no dream. There it is. A date. She’s not sure it’s for her, but just in case, she’d like to be prepared. Drying her hair will take more time than she has, so she bangs on the door to hurry along Raúl.

  “Get out now, or you’ll regret it!”

  “So make me regret it!” This boy is a cocky one.

  “Get out now!”

  “No!”

  “Idiot!” Paula has raised her voice, and her mother appears in the hallway to end the fight.

  “That’s enough! I’m completely fed up with you! Paula, don’t you think you’re a little too old for this?”

  “Not you, too! Mom, I have to go to class and this moron isn’t letting me into the bathroom. There won’t be time to dry my hair!”

  “So don’t wash it! If it’s just one day nothing will happen.”

  Paula goes into the kitchen, annoyed. Obviously, since her mother has half the morning to take a shower if she wants, she wouldn’t understand! She drinks a glass of milk while she waits. Raúl doesn’t come out. She uses the time to prepare her folder. Then, when he still doesn’t emerge, she begins to pull clothing out of her closet: blue jeans, pink Converse, fleece jacket also pink. She knows what Marta would think. Pink again? She hates the color, but Paula loves it.

  When she’s finally able to enter the bathroom the steam is unbearable. Admittedly, it is cold out, but her brother has overdone it with the heater. She’s not going to be able to put her make-up on in that mirror. She’ll have to try again with her mother. Suddenly she remembers that she’s late, and takes a quick shower. In less than five minutes she’s back in her room. There’s no time for make-up. She puts on her clothes and the black coat, picks up her folder and scarf, and runs down the stairs. When she opens the door of the entrance hall, she’s nearly forgotten what the rush was for. Nearly, because a boy leaning on a shabby motorcycle, two helmets in his hand, reminds her. It wasn’t a wrong number. The message was for her.

  “Let’s go?”

  “Yes.” She doesn’t have to consider her answer. The “yes” is round and convincing, even though only a couple of minutes before she would never have imagined it would leave her lips. She doesn’t know where they’re going, but she doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

  She’s really beautiful, he thinks. She doesn’t need to cover her face with creams and concoctions. She’s wonderful just like this, freshly showered with her hair gathered back in a clip. Javier puts Paula’s folder in a backpack and asks her to hang on to it. He’s brought his books too, because he doesn’t want his mother to know that all her efforts for him to go to university have been useless. He gives Paula a helmet, which he’s pinched from his brother, and then they’re traveling through the streets of Madrid. The motorbike doesn’t go fast, but it’s really cold and Paula’s hands are growing numb. She’s not used to motorbikes or gloves. She thinks of the five or six unpaired mittens in her closet. At a traffic light she lets go of his waist to rub her hands together, and when Javier realizes the situation he grabs her left hand and puts it in his pocket. There are no words. They couldn’t have heard them anyway with the helmets, but they don’t need them.

  Now she has both her hands tucked into his jacket. And she feels as if she’s come home. She doesn’t know how long she’s been there, hanging on to Javier through his pockets, passing through unknown streets in the city. Neither can she be sure where they are, because she’s had her eyes closed for a long time. She concentrates on grabbing him tightly, clinging to his body so as not to fall. She’s not sure that it’s only something physical. He is who he is, and she doesn’t want to lose him.

  When she feels that they’ve stopped she opens her eyes and lifts her head from Javier’s back. He’s parked the motorbike between some trash bins and a car, and when they take their helmets off neither can hold back a face at the smell. Paula looks at Javier’s mussed-up hair. Now he doesn’t seem so idiotic. She ruffles his hair a little bit more and receives a smile in return.

  “Where are we?” she asks.

  “Come with me, it’s a really special place.”

  He grabs her hand and smoothly guides her toward the entrance of a park. On the door, a rusty sign lists the opening hours. They cross the threshold like that, hand in hand, without wanting to let go, completely in peace. It’s as if it’s always been like this, as if the two have always complemented each other and never tried to annoy each other. Today they seem to be in agreement. They’re even wearing similar shoes.

  “I like your sneakers.”

  “And I like yours.”

  They seem like two idiots. They speak in short phrases because neither knows where to start. There are too many insecurities. Too many empty spaces in experience that can’t be filled by consulting the internet. One has to live to learn how to live. That’s the reason for the caution, that’s the reason for the lead feet. Although today their feet are pink and purple. Pink, purple, blue, white, black. A winter rainbow in Madrid, in a lost park outside of opening hours. An improvised date and two hands, two hearts, that don’t want to separate.

  “This is my place.”

  Javier stops in front of some run-down stairs that lead to a small house above, occasionally used as a gardener’s hut. Paula sits next to him on the first step, looking out at the view. There are factories in the background and a train track. Strange choice for a favorite place.

  “Whenever I don’t have anything to do, that is, nearly all the time, I come here. It’s my place to think.”

  “But there’s nothing special. Just another view.”

  “I know, but it’s mine. It’s private. I don’t share it with anyone else. I don’t think there’s anyone else who considers it special.”

  “Now I know it too.”

  “And what do you think?”

  Paula gazes into the distance. A nearby train passes, hundreds of lives moving in the same direction. She’s unsure if she’s about to get on a train right now, one of those that life offers. She looks at the factories and squeezes his hand. Sitting there together, leaning against one other, to them the dirty buildings look beautiful.

  “What are you thinking about today?” Paula’s question breaks the silence.

  “About what I want to say to you.”

  Another silence. His gaze is fixed on the horizon. How hard it can be! How can you tell someone you barely know that you can’t breathe every time you imagine her absence? How can you explain to her that you need her, without knowing why yourself? How can you put into words the feelings she’s awoken in you? He has no security net, nothing to stop the fall if he doesn’t manage to grab the trapeze bar when jumping. He looks into her eyes again and takes the plunge. A gesture, just one, to tell her everything. A kiss that explains the unexplainable and that she returns, because she herself is asking the same questions. This time it’s reciprocated. The two love each other. Neither is trying to annoy the other, or calculating an evasion strategy.

  The morning dissolves between laughter and kisses, all set against the background of a walk in that cold park with a winter sun and an unusually blue sky.

  “Do you want an ice cream?”

  It should be summer for the question, but Javier knows where to get the best ice creams in winter, and he’s hungry. The hours have passed and it’s already noon. Paula should return home so her mother doesn’t worry, but a call, a lie, and the complicity of Ana, whom she sends an SMS, clear th
e way. The afternoon is perfect. They don’t need to say what they feel, because their bodies say it for them. It’s something genuine and they don’t want it to end. But like everything, it must. This time it’s with a phone call to Javier.

  “Yes?”

  “Javier, it’s Pili.”

  “Hi, Pili. What’s up?” Javier grows nervous. He shouldn’t have picked up.

  “I have another job for you.”

  “Another?” He turns pale. He doesn’t want another job, not now.

  “Who is it?” asks Paula.

  “The agency is calling me.”

  Javier doesn’t want to lie to her. He’s thinking of turning down the job, but he doesn’t have time to explain himself. Paula throws the helmet at his chest, pulls her folder out of the backpack, and leaves without even saying goodbye. Reality puts an end to the fairytale. He’d forgotten how they knew each other. He goes running and looks for her in the metro where she’s disappeared. He doesn’t have any words right now, not even to answer Pili. Javier hangs up and the girl from the agency calls him back.

  “Would you like to tell me why you hung up on me?” Pili gets irritated easily.

  “It wasn’t the best time.”

  “Well, I also called to say that you can come in for the previous job’s payment... but only if you want to! It’s all the same to me.”

  “I’ll come by to pick up the money. We’ll talk about the job when I’m there.”

  He gets on his motorbike and returns home. It seems to be going even more slowly than usual. Go, stupid thing! He should have known the morning would go badly. Everything always goes badly for him.

  * * *

  What an idiot you are, Paula! Crying in the metro, lost in your emotions. You should forget about this altogether. Why would a guy change his life for you? Just forget it. It never happened.

  * * *

  It’s Thursday. César, one of the twins, suddenly comes into the room. Ángel is annoyed, as he always is when one of his brothers does this. They’re obsessed with infringing on his privacy.

  “Haven’t I told you a thousand times not to enter my room like that?”

  “Yes, I know, but it’s an emergency.”

  “What’s going on?” Ángel waits for an answer.

  “I’ll tell you on the condition that you throw your friend out of the house and don’t ever let him come back again.” The twins chuckle to themselves, thinking they’ve hit the jackpot.

  “Tell me or I’ll break your face!” Ángel has had enough with bribes, and is still furious because the twins told him about the boyfriend his sister brought to the wedding.

  “Okay! It’s my sister.”

  Ángel is astonished. What’s going on? Now that she has a boyfriend, she comes looking for him? A second later his face changes. Maybe she wants to see him about her boyfriend. It doesn’t matter. He’s not going to give up the chance to see her.

  “Is she here?” he asks.

  “No. She asked for you on the phone. But don’t forget the deal. Now that I’ve told you, your friend can never enter the house again.”

  Ángel throws the boy out of his room, and he goes running down the hallway shouting. The two boys have been trying to get rid of Javier for ages. They have a very low opinion of him, and are always arguing with their older brother about him. Javier always ignores the two boys, as if they were of no importance. Slightly more interesting to Javier is their older sister, whose name he can’t even remember. Ángel talks a lot about the girl, but he always refers to her as “her”. From what he says, she’s drop-dead gorgeous and very sweet. Javier talks out loud, trying to convince himself so that the rejection hurts less.

  “If only I’d fallen in love someone like that, and not with this crazy girl! I don’t think anyone else could put up her. I’m a constant victim of her bad moods.”

  “Are you talking to me?”

  “Nah, I was just thinking, hard as it is to believe. What did the girl want?”

  “Man, it’s incredible! She wants us to go out with her this weekend. She doesn’t have a car for a while, because she did something to it, and she wanted to ask if Saturday night I’d like to go with her and her friends to a bar that just opened. Her dad said that if they don’t go with someone who has a car to take them home, he won’t let her out. I said I’ll go. And also that I’d ask if you wanted to come. You can finally meet her!”

  “I don’t know if I want to. She has some nerve! She’s just calling you for a ride.”

  “You’re wrong. There are four of them, and one of the girls also has a car. Anyway, I’ve been telling her that I want to go out with them for some time now,” says Ángel.

  “When did you tell her that?”

  “I don’t know, I’ve suggested it a lot of times, although maybe not explicitly... I don’t think I’ve ever said it.”

  “And then you call me the idiot!” says Javier.

  “Are you going to come or not?” asks Ángel. “Come on! Don’t you always say you want us to go to different places, and we never do? This is our chance. I don’t think we should waste it.”

  “Alright, I’ll come then. After the week I’ve had, I need to relax.”

  “What happened to you this week?”

  “Well, the Friday date, you know...” and then he changes the subject, so that nothing else escapes. If things had gone well, he could have told him. But since they’ve gone disastrously, he prefers to keep this failure with the others, in the most hidden part of his self, where it won’t do any harm.

  * * *

  The hours remaining until the Saturday of the opening pass quickly. They go by between notes, calls, and conversations in Messenger. After many texts have been exchanged, they come to an agreement, but decide to meet in “La Facultad” just in case. Communication through a screen is fine, but nothing is better than sharing some beers with friends in the neighborhood bar. Ana, Paula, Marta, and Raquel wait together for Ángel and his classmate, who will meet them there. None of them know him, although his friendship with Ángel has lasted for years. The last few years when it’s been strongest, however, are also the ones in which Ángel and the girls have seen each other least.

  “Hello, girls! It’s been so long!” Ángel comes alone. “Sorry, my friend couldn’t make it. I think he’s gone to buy some sunglasses.”

  “But it’s December!” says Ana.

  “This guy isn’t normal, as you’ll soon see. Tomorrow when we go out you’ll get to meet him.”

  “Okay,” agrees Paula, without suspecting the mess that awaits. “By the way, this is Ana, my friend.”

  “Hi, Ana!”

  Ana gives him two kisses, noting that Paula wasn’t lying. Ángel is really attractive. She doesn’t know what she likes more, his brown eyes or his perfect smile. Why doesn’t Paula like him? She wouldn’t say no to a suggestion from Ángel drunk or sober.

  “What have you decided?” asks Ángel, somewhat uneasy that Ana hasn’t taken her eyes off him.

  “We’ll meet at your house, because it’s closest. We’ll come by about eight thirty,” says Paula.

  “Who am I going to take?” asks Ángel. He retains the hope that he and Paula will go alone in his car, but doesn’t dare to pressure her.

  “Let’s split the group evenly. Two girls for you and two for your friend,” says Raquel.

  “Raquel and I will go together,” says Marta. “I can’t let my sister out of my sight. She gets herself into a mess the second I look away!”

  “Oh come on!” protests Raquel. “I’m a saint!

  “Sure!” says Paula. “Do you want me to remind you of the day you threw yourself back-first onto the grass where people had been drinking? You fell on glass and we spent the entire night in the emergency room!”

  “And the day you got lost going home you were so sloshed? You showed up at eight in the morning and Dad punished me for a month.”

  “And me too!” protests Raquel.

  “But I didn’t do anything!
And I returned at the hour he told us to.”

  “Anyway, back to what we were saying. Ana will take your friend and me in her car.” Paula, who always manages to find some ruse to free herself from Ángel, picks up the theme of how they’ll get there.

  “Okay,” he replies, trying to hide his disappointment that things haven’t gone as he’d have liked.

  “Be ready to leave as early as possible. Later parking is so disastrous not even a god can get a spot,” says Ana.

  They order more beers and laugh at Raquel’s stories. This week she’s destroyed a bill for ten euros, confusing it with another paper she had in her pocket. But the anger that took hold of her was nothing compared with her mother’s anger when she left a jug of Mr. Clean in the bathroom. Her father, who’s a little absent-minded, washed his hair with it.

  “He said it didn’t surprise him that the man on the bottle had gone bald with such bad shampoo. When he realized that it was for cleaning, he started to yell at my mom, and she was so furious she attacked him right back. My mother’s great! No one shouts at her without her taking revenge. But I was stuck with the consequences, because I had to make dinner... When I protested, she told me I deserved it for ripping the bill.”