The next morning after coffee and a hangover—and Tavo is nowhere to be found, probably working in the orchard—I see that Shane messaged me on Skype.
Hey, sorry we couldn’t talk much before. The time difference is hard. I have something to tell you. Give me a call.
I call him on Skype, but it rings and rings and rings.
God. I need to talk to him. I need to get clarity.
I could leave a voicemail, which is just about the worst thing I can do. I want to see his face, but being over here, I’m not sure I have any choice. Maybe it will be easier on him if he gets an email. Then he can think about it before he responds.
My heart’s pounding in my ears and my fingers shake so much I make a lot of mistakes. But I finally type an email.
* * *
Dear Shane,
We really need to talk. I’ve been doing some thinking while I’m here. You’re always going to be my friend, but I can’t marry you. I’m so sorry. I don’t want to hurt you, but it doesn’t feel right to get married. Call me when you get this.
Love,
Kim
* * *
Tears rush to my eyes but don’t fall. My heart pounds, but I also feel a calmness moving forward with breaking up with him, because I’m being honest. Better that I admit it now, before we make a huge mistake and get married. I’ll talk to him and tell him the next time he answers.
I take my ring off and put it in an envelope.
As I sit there staring at the screen, some things become very clear.
I do believe in love and that I can love someone my whole life. And I’m not going to get married to someone I don’t love starting out, because we have no chance for lifelong love.
I’m breaking up with him for me. And for him. I deserve better. He deserves better. And even though it’s painful, it’s the right thing to do.
And I know who I want. Or who I think I want. But even if Tavo isn’t the one for me—a thought which makes me feel strangely ill—I broke up with Shane for me.
Because I deserve joy and love, not just a buddy. They say if you marry your best friend, there’s space for one less person in your life. So I’m making room for someone else plus Shane.
I hit send.
“I think the pistachio is the best. But you might talk me into the caramel.” Dani points to the little trays of gelato behind the glass as I take a picture of the colorful dessert options.
“Is it bad that they all look good?” I ask. “Can I just work my way through all of them?”
The old man scooping the gelato understands English. “You come back. You try all the gelato you want. Come, come.”
“I’m going to just start with vanilla.” I gesture at the tray.
Tavo stands behind us talking to Trent as the vendor scrapes the treat into a tiny cone with a flat paddle.
I turn around. A half smile comes over Tavo’s face, along with a pensive look in his eye. “You like it vanilla, eh? That’s your scent.”
“It’s my lotion.” I snap a quick picture of the ice cream, holding it up against the sky. Then I take a bite. “Oh, wow. Yes, this is good.”
Dani, Trent, and Tavo order, and Tavo insists on paying. Then the four of us walk down a long plaza lined with trees, warm in the afternoon sunshine. It’s crowded with people, too. Dressed-up women in heels pushing babies in prams. Men standing and talking in the shade of the trees. Bars brimming full of people, with music spilling out onto the sidewalk.
I take Dani’s arm as we stroll. “How are you feeling about school starting?” she asks.
“Excited, with a dash of scared, and a tiny bit of confidence.”
She licks her gelato. She ended up getting chocolate. “That sounds about right. That’s kind of how I feel whenever I go to a new place.”
“Where have you been?” I ask. Trent and Tavo fall behind us, lost in their own conversation that’s spoken in Spanish by Trent and English by Tavo. I admire their dedication.
“Everywhere, practically.” Dani starts listing countries she’s been to, and honestly it would be shorter to list the ones she hasn’t been to. As I’m hearing her talk, I’m so jealous. “Where have you been?” she asks.
“Iowa. And Spain.”
She stops and grabs my wrist. “Seriously?”
“Yep. This is the first time I’ve been on a plane. First time out of the country.”
“It’s good that you got the chance,” she says. She looks like she wants to say more. To ask why, but she doesn’t want to pry or be impolite.
But Dani’s so friendly, so I start talking. “When I was really little, my dad was a psychiatrist, and he had an office downtown, and my mom didn’t work. Well, one day when she was home with me, when I was just a baby, someone broke into the house, put a gun to her head, locked her in a room with me, and proceeded to rob of us all the electronics. TV, VCR, you know.”
“That’s awful,” Dani whispers, and her eyes grow big. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks. I was too little to remember it, but obviously it affected her. She got super protective of me. I was only allowed to play with people she knew really well. She had to know their parents. She started taking me to all these activities like after school classes.” I take a lick of my gelato.
“Because she felt out of control with the robbery.”
“Yeah, right. I think so. It was something she could focus on and manage. Not this big, scary world.” We get to the end of the plaza. “Should we walk back?”
“Sí,” says Trent. And I laugh, because he’s too adorable.
Tavo gives me a chin lift.
“Well, to continue my story, basically, after the robbery, she started emotional eating. And she gained a lot of weight. Then she figured out a plan to lose it, started helping others, and created a weight loss company. Now she’s this businesswoman, and she doesn’t have time to go anywhere.”
“I feel sorry for her,” says Dani.
“You know, I do, too. When I’m at home, she’s just annoying, but now that I’m over here and thinking about her, it just makes me sad. Like if she just let go of the reins, just loosened up a little, she’d have a whole lot more fun.”
“Agreed.”
“We haven’t really traveled anywhere. She’s been scared to leave the home. We have extra security, lots of floodlights, and pretty much just stay put.”
Dani reaches out, squeezes my bicep, and nods. “Then this is the best opportunity for you.”
“Absolutely. When they asked me to stay home for college to save money and go to state school, I also think it was because my mom was worried about me leaving. So going here is a big step for all of us.”
“What do you want to do when you graduate?”
“I made my parents promise to send me to grad school. But I’ve been thinking about what I want to do. Since I’ve been here, I’m really interested in Spanish cuisine.” I shrug. “Maybe something with that.”
“I think you should do whatever you want to do. There’s always a way to do it.”
As I finish my cone and throw the napkin in a trashcan, I’m so grateful to Dani for being sociable and keeping my mind off of Shane.
And off of Tavo.
A few days later, I swear I see Sonia leave the kitchen just as I step in. The door slams behind her. Guillermo leans against the counter, peeling an orange, obviously pissed. “Was that Sonia?”
He sneers. “Yeah, Tavo’s novia.”
“His girlfriend?” My stomach drops, and a flare of anger passes through me. I’d think if he had a girlfriend I would have known. Because otherwise, why did he kiss me? Why did he say those things? Why does he act the way he does? I can’t help but ask, “What do you mean, ‘his girlfriend’?”
Guillermo runs his hands through his hair then cracks his knuckles. “He is the eldest son. And she is the eldest daughter of the family next door. For a hundred years or more, we have sold our olives to them. They have the press. Our parents decided it would make a good unio
n if Tavo were to marry her.”
My heart thumps, and I can’t swallow. “That’s absurd. He never mentioned it to me. What does he think of her? He doesn’t want to, does he?”
“From the sounds of the way he fucks her, I don’t think he minds.”
Guillermo’s voice is muffled, like he’s behind glass, and my eyes see only white fuzz. The world slows down. And I’m done. Just. Done.
Eleven
Tavo - Desayuno con Diamantes
Her nipples perk up at the heat of my breath. My tongue darts out, and I lick the closest one to me. I taste her sweet, soft skin. Hovering over her, I pull back to gaze at her, turned on by the erotic sight of her dark, rosy hardness.
Her nose pokes up under the black silk blindfold I’ve placed on her face. It cradles her features, padded under her eyes. She can’t see what I’m doing, but she feels it, and she senses me. We move together in harmony. Her muscles flick along her form in a pattern, giving me an idea of where she thinks I’m headed next.
She’s right.
My fingers trip down her body. Between her breasts. Down the lines of her belly and over her naked hip bones. To the little dip in front. And down.
I stroke her center gently with my rough fingers. She’s warm and wet and alive and all mine. Sexy, undiscovered territory. There’s so much she hasn’t tried. She’s been untainted and innocent like pure water.
Not anymore.
Her legs widen, letting me in, allowing me to fuck her with my fingers.
“Mr. de la Guerra. Do you have an answer?”
My head jerks up with a start to fix on my professor’s raised eyebrows. Several dozen of my fellow classmates turn toward me, expecting my response.
I have none.
Joder. My hands form fists as I fight a boner the size of a spire of the Sagrada Familia cathedral in Barcelona. Kim sits at the next desk with a furrowed brow and crossed arms.
Yes, beautiful. I’m daydreaming about you.
I flinch and try to be discrete as I adjust myself. While English to Spanish translation is easier for me than the reverse, I can’t translate shit if have no idea what he said. “I don’t know,” I admit to the professor. He tilts his head down and frowns, then calls on another student.
Kim extends her finger and grazes the back of my hand, whispering, “You okay? Are you sick?” She’s wearing a white, sleeveless button-down shirt and a pair of khaki shorts with sandals that give me a great view of her legs. As usual, she’s classic and fresh, like a crisp, ripe apple.
She’s so ripe, I want to bite her.
Forcing my fists to unclench, I say with a low, strangled voice, “I’m fine. I’m just tired.”
That’s true.
What’s more accurate is that I’m wondering what the hell happened. That gentle nudge of my hand is the only physical contact we’ve had in more than a week.
Since school’s started, she’s been frosty. Other than obligatory conversation to coordinate getting her to school and back, she’s left me alone. Completely alone. No comments in the car. No talks on her bed. No sitting next to me at dinnertime.
She’s studied. Helped Mari Carmen make gazpacho, a cold, garlicky soup made with cucumbers and tomatoes. Surfed the internet on her laptop. But to me, she’s been an ice planet with no life forms.
Is she worried about school? What did I do to get the silent treatment?
I’ve no clue, and I can’t read her face right now. I think she’s figured out my dirty thoughts—given that her eyes traveled to my crotch—and she’s very amused. But like all week, her face changes to this distant, flat coolness. She nods and turns to give her attention to the front. I let out my breath and do the same, passing the rest of the hour attempting to pay attention while secretly drawing her in my notebook.
After class I meet up with her outside in the hallway, which is really an open-air corridor facing out to a square patio. She’s standing by a planter with her books in her arms. I place an elbow above the wall next to her. “Next time wake me up, will you? Save me from embarrassment?”
“No.” Her feet are planted wide on the ground as she leans in to me with a smirk on her pretty lips. She swats my bicep. “I rather enjoyed that. Serves you right to fall asleep in class. What were you dreaming of?” Thank God she’s back to flirting with me.
My eyes fly wide open. “The history of the House of Bourbón.”
“Liar. I think you were thinking of something different than that.” But the teasing tone in her voice drops out, and her face loses her revived spunk. “Maybe you should keep sleeping. You make me look like a star student.”
“Since when have you been thinking you’re going to do better than me?”
“Your study habits are appalling. I know if I apply myself, I’ll kick your ass.”
“Oh, is that right? Since you bring up kicking my ass, guapa, maybe you’d enjoy a good spanking.” The words slip out, and I hold back a curse, because I’d like nothing more.
Her hand touches her throat. She swallows and says in a husky voice, “Maybe I would.”
I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out. We stare at each other. The electricity that dropped since we first met is zinging around again, bouncing from her to me and back again, making my arms tingle.
She chews her lip and averts her eyes, casting around for something else. Her shoulders perk up. “There they are.” She runs down the hall toward Trent and Dani, leaving me admiring her great culo.
What the hell is going on?
I know there’s something between us that we’re fighting, but I can’t keep living like this—the tension will make me explode.
It’s how it’s been all week—her drawing away, and me wanting to get closer. An example? We’ve met up with Trent and Dani at Bar Marueco twice this week to practice translation. But she doesn’t sit by me like that first night. Instead, she sits next to Dani, talking nonstop about Spain and travels and all sorts of things. I drive her home in silence.
It’s only fair. I have no claim to her. I need to fix this pain. Even if I can’t touch her, I still want to get to know her, because the silent treatment isn’t working for me.
So maybe it’s friends. We can be friends.
I catch up with her, determined to keep her talking with me.
“How are classes?” Dani asks both of us. At school, Trent stands a respectful distance away from her, acknowledging that she’s a professor. But their synchronized body language tells anyone with a brain who is paying attention that they’re in love. He mimics her actions, and she does it right back. There’s a dance of their movements showing how in tune they are with each other.
Watching someone in love when you’re in pain sucks.
“I just told Tavo I’d kick his butt, but truthfully, it’s harder than I thought, learning a language,” Kim says. “Although I knew it wouldn’t be like class, I mean I had four years of it. You’d think I’d be able to speak it better, but I can’t. I don’t even pick out words in ordinary conversation. It’s frustrating.”
Trent nods. “Right? And the Spanish here has such a strong accent. It takes a while to get the hang of it. You need to practice more ordinary conversation.” He points to me. “Tavo can help you. He helped me a lot.”
“You’ve gotten a lot better,” I acknowledge.
“And you couldn’t say much in English either.”
“True.” I turn to Kim. “I’m willing to help, you know. To practice.”
It will be no sacrifice to spend more time with her—except I may be sacrificing my heart.
Her chin tips up. “I’d like that.”
“Then that’s the plan.” Against my better judgment.
“Thanks for taking the time to help me.” Kim tucks her feet under her on the couch and watches me with those clear, expressive eyes. Ones that have become sadder since she’s been here. While that verve that underlies her spirit is still there, it’s been tamped down.
Maybe I can help to get it
back.
“Es nada.” I wave my hand. If only she knew how much it means to me to be anywhere near her. But I keep my feelings in check so she won’t feel uncomfortable.
She pulls at her blouse and arranges the legs of her shorts. “I’m so lost. Not knowing the language, I mean.”
“We can’t have you lost.” I grab the remote. I don’t know if I should go next to her or not, so I compromise by sitting on the floor, leaning my back against the couch close to her legs. “Entonces vamos a practicar.”
“You’re right. Practice makes perfect.” Her knee bounces near my head. “I guess part of doing something new is being bad at it at first. I’m used to already knowing how to do things.”
My hands go behind my head, and I resist stilling that knee with my palm. “Then let’s get you into the unknown. Let’s let you be bad at something for once. That’s the only way to get better.”
“It’s just frustrating. I want to download the entire Spanish language into my brain. Learning curves suck. I’m impatient, I guess.”
I twist my torso to gaze at her. She’s yanking at her hair in clumps. “So you want the end result, not the journey.”
Her hands still and clasp loosely in her lap. “No,” she says quietly. “I want the journey.”
“Then let’s begin. Immersion is a good thing. I learned a lot of English by watching TV. Let’s watch something, and you translate to me what you think they’re saying.”
“Okay.” She sits so still it’s almost eerie.
I turn on the tele. While we have original programming, much of Spanish TV is dubbed from English. I’m a particular fan of Los Simpsons. As I flip around, I stop on one of the greatest films ever. “Desayuno con Diamantes!”
“I’ve never seen it.”
“Qué coño.” I shake my head. “You call it Breakfast at Tiffany’s. There’s the poster,” I say, pointing. “You’ll love it.”
Sombra Page 12
