Broken Soldier: A Novel

by Clara Frost

  “Oh, damn.” Rafa pushed himself to his feet. “I got distracted and didn’t make it to the bar.”

  He left her and Lorena sitting at the table together. Lorena looked her over and pursed her lips, but didn’t say anything.

  Emily shifted uncomfortably. Something about that woman sent a shiver down her spine. She sat in a silence that made her skin crawl. Rafa returned a few minutes later, depositing a glass of red wine in front of each of them.

  “I was talking to Lorena a few minutes ago,” Rafa said, “and I think that we are all going back to Yaya’s in a little while.”

  Emily tried to act more enthusiastic than she felt. “Great.”

  “Bernardo will be joining us, too, I think.” Rafa grinned.

  Well, it could be worse, Emily thought. He could invite Enrique and Salome back to the house, too. Then Maria could watch two relationships explode. She drained the rest of her wine glass in one long swallow. It was going to be a long evening.

  Chapter 27

  RAFA kept both hands clenched on the steering wheel. Sporadic headlights flashed past in the other lane, but hardly anyone else was on the road in Yaya’s neighborhood so late. If he was perfectly honest with himself, he probably shouldn’t be driving, but Emily was in even worse shape.

  She had sat quietly for most of the reception, draining glass after glass of wine, and when they’d finally decided to leave, she’d been so unsteady on her feet that he’d nearly been forced to carry her.

  He looked over at her. She faced away from him, staring out the passenger window with glassy eyes. Something was up, but he didn’t know whether it was something he had done or if the wedding and reception had just been too much for her.

  They drove home in silence. Rafa helped her out of the Land Rover and into the house. Laughter spilled from the sitting room. Bernardo, unless he was mistaken.

  “They’re already here?” Emily asked, steadying herself on the kitchen counter.

  “Sounds like it. Do you want to come chat for a while?”

  She shook her head. “I think I’m going up to bed. I don’t feel well.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Go pay attention to your friends.” A trace of bitterness tinged her voice.

  Rafa tried to lean in and give her a kiss, but she turned her head away.

  “I’m tired, Rafa.”

  He wasn’t sure what to say. Something was definitely wrong, but he didn’t know what it was or how to fix it, and the wine was making his head swim even more.

  “I’ll help you upstairs,” he offered.

  She shrugged, but didn’t do anything to discourage him when he followed her upstairs. She continued from the second floor to the third, to his surprise. He didn’t expect her to want to go to the garret room.

  “Thank you for putting up with my family,” Rafa said. “They can be overwhelming.”

  Emily stopped outside her bedroom door. “Yes, they can be. Good night, Rafa.” She ducked into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

  Rafa stood in the hall, staring at the door. He wanted to go inside, to hold her and to make sure she was really okay, but she seemed upset and he didn’t want to make it worse. The last thing he wanted to do was crowd her when she needed her space.

  He trudged back downstairs and found Bernardo and Lorena in the sitting room. An empty bottle of wine lay tipped over on the coffee table, a second bottle open beside it.

  “Rafa, nice of you to join us,” Bernardo said. “You get the little woman put to bed?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Rafa stood in the doorway, hands on his hips.

  Bernardo laughed. “Easy, mano, just asking if she is feeling alright. She did not look well.”

  “Too many people.”

  Lorena rolled her eyes. “Too many of the wrong people, you mean. She does not like us, Rafa. It is obvious.”

  Lorena had one end of the sofa, and Bernardo had the only armchair in the room. There was nowhere to sit except next to Lorena, so Rafa tried to position himself as far from her as possible.

  “I don’t think it’s that. She’s not Catholic. The mass and the reception were longer and more crowded than she expected.”

  “I’m sure that was it,” Lorena said. “She seemed very overwhelmed. Perhaps life in Madrid is too fast paced for her.”

  Bernardo nodded. “She is too timid.”

  Rafa took a deep breath. He didn’t want a fight with Bernardo and Lorena. It was bad enough that he was bickering with Emily, and now his so-called friends were trying to stir up something?

  “Look, I’m sorry that you don’t like her, but I do. More than like her. So she’s not going anywhere.”

  Bernardo laughed. “See, what did I tell you? He’s thoroughly American.”

  “Not a Spanish bone in his body,” Lorena agreed. “You have changed, Rafael.”

  “Perhaps--” he tapped his artificial leg “--the Spanish parts of me were left behind in Afghanistan.” His brain felt clearer than it had in months, the fog of alcohol dissolved by an angry clarity. “I am more comfortable with who I am now than I ever have been in my life. Emily has helped me find myself, so to hear you two bad-mouthing her is not something I take lightly.”

  He pushed himself back to his feet. “You’re both drunk, so I will not hold this conversation against you in the morning. You can stay here tonight, but I am going to bed.”

  Fatigue hit him as he climbed the stairs to his room. He hadn’t expected everyone to be so hostile toward Emily, and it broke his heart that she had to deal with them. He pushed his way into his bedroom. It took an effort of will to strip out of his suit before collapsing onto the bed.

  It felt like everyone in Spain was judging him and Emily both. He tossed and turned, unable to sleep, but too tired to stay awake, trying to reconcile the different parts of his life, the past and the present, the American and the Spanish. Finally, after what felt like hours, he slipped into a restless sleep.

  #

  The old instinct to rise early wasn’t one that Rafa particularly cherished, not when he woke with a hangover. Fifteen minutes showing, shaving and dressing later, and he was headed to the kitchen.

  The smell of toast greeted him as he came down the main staircase.

  “Morning, son,” Rafa’s father told him from the bar in the kitchen. He had a half-eaten piece of toast and the yolky residue of fried eggs on his plate. “You still want to go run that errand?”

  Leave it to the old man to be the first person awake in the house. It wasn’t surprising, though. One didn’t make it to Brigadier General by sleeping late, not since 9/11.

  “Yeah, I need to. Mamá still asleep?”

  “Of course. Yaya is in her library, reading one of the books you bought her.”

  “Let me grab a bite to eat and I’ll be ready.” Rafa made himself an omelet and washed it down with a cup of coffee. “Actually, I’m going to run upstairs and check Em. Then I’ll be ready.”

  “Sorry about that, by the way. The room your mother put her in. I tried to talk some sense into her, but she still thinks of you like you’re her little boy.”

  Rafa shrugged. What was he supposed to do, complain to his dad about his mother being a zealot? He jogged up the stairs, pausing once to adjust his prosthesis, and went to Emily’s room. The door was still closed, and his quiet knock didn’t elicit a response. He stood for a moment with his hand on the doorknob, pondering poking his head inside to see how she was feeling, but he didn’t want to wake her if she was still asleep. It was barely past 8:00 as it was.

  He left the door closed and headed back downstairs. He had jewelry shops to visit, and he wanted to get it done early.

  #

  The house was still quiet when Emily woke. Morning sun streamed through the gap in her room’s curtains, bringing the throbbing in her head into ferocious clarity. She reached for her cell phone on the nightstand, nearly knocking it to the floor. Her hands were as shaky as her vision, and judging by
the sour ache in her stomach, the morning was likely to get worse before it got better.

  The phone told her it was 8:30. She roused herself from bed and grabbed some clothes. The only shower she’d used during her stay was the one down the hall from Rafa’s room, so she trudged that direction.

  The house was just as dead on the second floor, though a faint scent of burnt bread wafted up from the kitchen. Emily paused and listened, but no sounds of conversation came her way. Maybe Yaya was up early while everyone else was sleeping off their hangovers.

  Emily stopped in the hall outside Rafa’s room. The door was closed, but not latched. She knocked lightly. “Rafa, you awake yet?”

  She pushed the door open and poked her head inside. His suit jacket lay across his still-made bed, as if he hadn’t slept in the room at all. Emily’s eyes narrowed. Had he passed out downstairs? That didn’t sound like the Rafa she knew.

  She left her clothes on the bathroom counter and padded toward the stairs. A sound caught her ear. Laughter. A woman’s laughter. She edged toward one of the closed doors. Lorena’s voice came through, low and husky, barely audible, but Emily recognized that haughty tone just the same. Lorena was talking to someone, Emily wasn’t sure who. A man’s voice. Rafa?

  Emily’s stomach contracted into a tight ball of sour wine. It couldn’t be. She edged away, mind racing. He had seen her to her room and then gone to bed with his ex? What, had he thought she wouldn’t wake up so early?

  Fear and panic and frustration roared through her. She stumbled to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She wanted to scream. She wanted to puke. Instead, she turned on the shower.

  She turned the faucets as hot as they’d go and stood beneath the hammering water. It was obvious what he saw in Lorena. Tall, thin, beautiful. A wit so razor sharp it cut anyone that came within a dozen feet.

  Emily couldn’t compete with that. She wasn’t a model and she knew it. It had been foolish of her to ever think thank a man like Rafa could love her with her imperfections. Rafa belonged on a parade ground or on the pages of a magazine, not with her.

  She dried off and did her hair, unwilling to completely admit defeat. A plan formed as she ran the blow drier. She would go downstairs and talk to Rafa. See how he really felt, and if he wanted to be with Lorena, that would be fine. She’d wish him well, and go back to Colorado alone.

  When she emerged from the bathroom, the second floor hallway seemed longer and darker than ever before. She made it halfway to the door where Lorena had stayed, and then she heard it.

  Squeaking bedsprings.

  Emily closed her eyes, forcing herself not to cry. She rushed passed the door, trying not to listen, but hearing the moaning within, anyway.

  She reached the stairs, fully prepared to race to her room and start throwing clothes into her suitcase, but Maria stood on the landing, frowning. The old bat was probably happy that Rafa had finally chosen Lorena. Funny how individual rooms weren’t required when he was sleeping with the woman his mother wanted him to have.

  Maria saw Emily, and her frown deepened. Emily tried to dodge around her without saying anything, but Maria held up a hand. “Do you have a moment?”

  Em nearly tripped. Really? The woman wanted to talk to her now? While her son was in the sack with that floozy?

  “I would speak to you,” Maria said.

  Emily cocked her head. Suddenly Maria’s English was perfect? “Sure. I was just going up to my room.”

  “We can talk there.” Maria followed Emily upstairs. “How long have you known my son?”

  “A few months.” It felt like a lifetime, though.

  “Hmm. And you are serious about him?”

  What kind of trap was this? Emily nodded, afraid to say anything for fear she’d say something that she’d regret.

  Maria looked at her closer, and her eyes seemed to soften. “He cares about you very much, you know. I have spoken to him about this.”

  “Is that right?” Emily couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Rafa’s mother was trying to excuse his behavior?

  “It is, yes.”

  Emily sighed. She wasn’t going to get rid of Rafa’s mother without answering some questions. “I am serious about him. Or I was. I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on right now, okay?”

  “I want my son to be happy. I thought that I knew what was best for him, but as you say, I do not know, either.”

  “Then we at least agree on that. I want Rafa to be happy, too. With me or without me, I wish him well.” That didn’t mean that it hurt any less, but it was the simple truth.

  “Then you have my blessing.” Maria curtsied and left.

  Emily stared after her. His mother gave her a blessing while he was with another woman? There was something horribly wrong with that picture.

  Maybe Rafa had managed to hide it from her before, but his whole family was insane. Emily turned back to the bedroom and opened her suitcase. She didn’t know what time the next flight to America left, but she intended to be on it.

  Chapter 28

  RAFA'S mother stood in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in her hand. She looked him over as he entered from the garage. “Rafael, I think you should go talk to your girlfriend.”

  Rafa paused, his father nearly running him over. “Why?”

  “She is upset about something.”

  What had Lorena said to her? “Where is she?”

  “Upstairs.”

  Rafa rushed past, heading straight for the garret room. Behind him, his mother asked his father how their shopping trip had gone, but Rafa didn’t hear the response as he jogged up the stairs. A glance down the second floor hall showed that the guest room door was still closed. Lorena or Bernardo--or both--were probably still sleeping off the wine.

  He heard the crying as soon as he reached the third floor. Quiet, gentle sobs at the far end of the otherwise silent hallway. His jog turned into a slapdash run.

  “Emily,” he said, stopping in her doorway.

  She looked up, eyes red, and wiped her nose. Her suitcase lay before her, full of badly folded clothes. She glared at him. “You.”

  “What?” Rafa’s heart stopped beating, his veins filling with a terror he had only known when men were trying to kill him.

  “You know what. I’m leaving.”

  “Emily, what is going on?” His hand shook slightly as adrenaline rushed through him. “What’s wrong?”

  “How dare you ask me that. You were in bed with her. I heard it!” She blinked back tears.

  “Emily, I slept alone last night.” He took a step forward, but stopped when she pointed at him with her straightener. She had hold of it like it was a deadly weapon.

  “I looked into your room earlier. You weren’t there. The bed wasn’t even disturbed. I looked all over the house for you, and do you know what I found? That tramp of yours cooing over you in the guest room. I don’t know what you were thinking, I can’t handle that. We’re done.”

  Rafa’s legs felt weak. This couldn’t be happening. God, he hadn’t even done anything wrong. “Em, I got up at 6:00 and had breakfast with my dad. We’ve been out in the city since before 8:00.”

  Emily’s lip quivered and her eyebrows narrowed.

  “I’m not joking. Emily, I love you. I could never be unfaithful; I would die without you.” He stumbled forward, using the bed to help balance. “Losing you would be worse than losing my hand and my leg. I might have felt incomplete before, but without you in my life I would lose my whole sense of being. You make me a better person.”

  The next few seconds were a blur, but then she was in his arms, crying on his shoulder. “I love you, too,” she whispered.

  “Em, if you want to go home early, I don’t mind. I’ve had about enough of Spain.”

  She sniffled, squeezed him tighter. “But your dad. Your Yaya.”

  “Dad and Yaya will understand.”

  “Lorena...”

  “The devil can take Lorena for all I care. She’s worse than
cancer.”

  “We don’t have to go, Rafa. I was... I just thought I’d lost you.”

  Rafa held her, kissed her forehead, her wet cheeks. “I will talk to my family, but we can leave early. I’m ready to go home.”

  “With me?” She looked up, hopeful.

  “Always.”

  #

  A line of travelers stretched toward the security checkpoint in the Madrid Barajas airport, people clutching their passports or their children or their lovers. Emily stood with Rafa, waiting as he gave his parents and grandmother one last hug.

  “You call when you land, okay?” his mother said.

  “I will, Mamá.” Rafa disengaged, turning toward his father and wrapping him into a hug.

  “Enjoy the rest of your vacation, Rafa. And show those flyboys in Colorado Springs what a real soldier looks like.”

  “I will, Dad.”

  Rafa’s mother approached Emily, her arms opening. “It was good to meet you,” Maria said.

  Emily hugged her tentatively, but was surprised at how the other woman squeezed her with real affection. “And you, too,” Emily told her.

  “He is happy with you,” Rafa’s mother whispered into Emily’s ear. “And so I am happy for him. For you both.”

  “Thank you.” It felt surprisingly good to hear it, and when Emily looked into the other woman’s eyes, she was surprised to see truth in them.

  Yaya came next, and despite her age, her hug was even stronger than her daughter’s. “Be safe,” Yaya said. “And tell me if you read any good books.”

  “Thank you for having us,” Emily said. “And I will.”

  Rafa’s father approached, hand outstretched, but Emily wasn’t falling for that trick again. She stepped around his hand, and gave him a hug, too. It was a hugging family, and that wasn’t a bad thing, she was learning.

  “Keep an eye on him, Em,” Rafa’s father said. “If he gives you any guff, you let me know.”

  “I can handle him,” she said.

  Rafa’s father laughed. “I have no doubt that you can.”

  “Em, shall we?” Rafa held out a hand. “Mamá, Dad, Yaya, see you when we see you.” Rafa led Emily toward the checkpoint. The golden ceiling stretched overhead, and even as she walked toward the flight that would take her back home to Colorado, Emily found herself wondering when she’d be back in Madrid. It hadn’t been an easy trip, but she’d survived and her affection for Rafa had only grown.