by Mariné, Lola
“What’s happening to you?” he asked, alarmed.
She shook her head, biting down on her lip in a desperate effort to contain a sob. But it only ended up bursting out more violently, and she collapsed on the edge of the bed like a sand sculpture battered by the wind, covering her face with her hands.
Bewildered, Armando immediately covered her with her dress and dragged over a chair so he could sit across from her.
“Calm down, calm down,” he spluttered, not daring to touch her. “Would you like some water?”
Before she could answer, he got up and made for the bar. As he opened a bottle and filled a glass, he watched her with concern. Billie took little sips, hiccupping between sobs.
Armando sat down across from her again.
“This is your first time, is that it?” he ventured. Billie nodded without looking up from the floor. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to. I already suspected you weren’t like the others. But Gregorio was so insistent … You don’t know how sorry I am.”
Billie looked him in the eye for the first time, an expression of infinite gratitude on her face. She put on her dress with shaking hands and wiped her tears with the handkerchief Armando offered her.
“I’m only at the New York to sing,” she tried to say, her voice wavering.
“But, sweetie! How did you end up at a place like that? All of Madrid knows what goes on in that place. Go on—go home. And if you want some good advice, don’t go back there. It’s not a place for a girl like you.”
He got to his feet and took a wad of bills from his wallet. He held them out to Billie.
“I can’t accept that,” she said, shaking her head. “We didn’t do anything …”
Armando took her hand and closed it around the money.
“Only you and I know that,” he smiled. “I don’t want you to get into trouble because of me. But listen to me and get away from that dump and all those people as soon as you can.”
Billie didn’t respond. How could she explain that it wasn’t that simple? That her own husband had pushed her into his bed?
“Thank you,” she mumbled, standing up and heading toward the door.
“Wait,” Armando said, handing her a card. “I have a jazz club in Barcelona. It’s a small, modest place in the old city, but if what you want is to sing, I can offer you a job … If there’s ever anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to call me.”
She took the card and gave a small nod.
“I don’t want you to get the wrong impression of me,” the man continued, trying to justify himself. “I don’t like having to pay women to … you know. But, who would want anything to do with a guy who looks like me?”
“Please,” she broke in, trying to smile. “You don’t owe me any explanations. You’re a good person. One day you’ll find someone …”
“I don’t have much hope anymore,” he smiled bitterly.
Billie slipped the card into her pocket. Feeling a sudden wave of compassion for the man, she went over and kissed him on the cheek.
“Good-bye,” she said. “And thank you. I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me.”
“Would you like me to take you in a taxi?” he offered.
The girl shook her head.
“I’d rather walk for a bit. Thank you though.”
Once she was in the hall, she took a deep breath and then sprinted toward the elevator as if she were afraid that Armando would regret his kindhearted act and come after her, to claim what he had paid for so generously. She pressed the elevator button with tears streaming down her face. As the pent-up tension burst forth, she was afraid she would faint before she reached the street. She hurried across the deserted lobby with her head down, avoiding the gaze of the receptionist, mortified by what he must think of her. But the employee was an efficient professional and turned away from her passing as though he hadn’t even noticed her. Billie was grateful for his silence.
Once back on the street, far from the hotel, she stopped for a few seconds to calm down. Paseo de la Castellana was wet from the street-cleaning truck, and she was glad to feel the fresh, humid breeze on her skin on that torrid summer night. Then, she started to walk slowly, with no clear idea where she was heading. She didn’t want to go home—the last thing she wanted that night was to confront Orlando. She was confused and hurt, and she needed time to think, to organize her thoughts and clarify her feelings.
How could she forgive Orlando for pushing her into that stranger’s arms? What should she do now? Leave him? Where would she go? What would she be without him … ? She walked for a long time without finding any answers to her questions, until she discovered that, almost without realizing, her steps had brought her to her street. She found herself in front of her building, just below the apartment she shared with her husband.
She was terrified as she entered the apartment and was relieved to see that Orlando hadn’t come home yet. Without even turning on the light, she took the money out of her bag and threw it on the coffee table as if it would burn her, curled up on a corner of the couch, and rested her head on her knees. Alone in her house, protected from strangers’ eyes, she let loose all the anguish pressing against her soul. A tornado of feelings came unleashed inside her: sadness, disappointment, helplessness, rage, hate … And she couldn’t stop crying until she heard Orlando’s key turning in the lock.
She held her breath and waited, sheltered in the dark, her body tense and heart pounding.
CHAPTER 12
Orlando flipped on the light, and Billie turned her head toward the window so he couldn’t see her face. He came over to her and kissed her on the cheek.
“So? How’d it go?” he asked, unable to avoid a quick glance at the money strewn across the table.
“You can see for yourself,” Billie replied curtly.
Orlando grabbed the wad of bills and counted them quickly, then let out a long whistle of admiration.
“Jesus!” he exclaimed. “It must have been a memorable night for the fatty.”
“How could you have made me do that?” Billie burst out between sobs, finally turning toward him.
“Do what, doll? I told you to be nice to him, nothing more. Whatever you did to get this was your own choice.”
“I’m not one of those prostitutes from the New York!” she screamed, jumping to her feet.
“Come on, my love. Calm down. Let’s not go over this again, okay? Be realistic for once, my darling.” Orlando’s face had grown tense, and his voice was rising. “Do you really think that anyone’s listening to your songs? Don’t be stupid! The only thing that matters to them is how you shake your ass and tits. You should hear the comments they make at the bar. Every night they offer Gregorio unimaginable sums of money to go to bed with you. And if he hasn’t made you go with anyone until now, it’s because I stopped him with a million excuses. But I don’t know what to say to him anymore that won’t make him send us both packing. Everyone wants to warm up the black girl!”
“How dare you talk about me like that!”
Without thinking, Billie slapped her husband across the face. Before she even realized what was happening, he punched her in the face so violently that she fell to the floor, momentarily stunned. Orlando seized her by the arms, his fingers digging into her like hooks, and lifted her up to a standing position, then began to shake her violently. Mad with rage, he began to hit her repeatedly and finished by hurling her onto the sofa, as if that was the only way to stop his impulse to keep hitting her. He took her face in an iron grip to make her look at him and brandished a threatening finger before her terrified eyes.
“You will never raise a hand to me again in your life or you’ll regret it, do you understand me?” he said, clenching his teeth with anger. “I’m going to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow, when you’ve calmed down.”
Billie remained in the living room, paralyzed by shock and panic, her face burning and throbbing with pain, unable to believe what had just
happened. Her first thought was to leave, but where would she go? She sat there, stunned and motionless, for a long time, not daring to make the smallest noise for fear of waking Orlando. Eventually, when she supposed her husband was asleep, she got up from the sofa and headed stealthily into the bathroom. The image she saw reflected in the mirror horrified her: her cheek was inflamed, and her left eye was blood red and practically swollen closed. The sight provoked an attack of sobs that she tried to stifle by covering her mouth with one hand. With the other, she took an aspirin out of the medicine cabinet and struggled to swallow it with a little water. Then, she dampened a towel with cold water and pressed it against her swollen face. She went back to the living room and sat down again. It was the longest and bitterest night of her life. She felt pain where Orlando’s fingers had left marks from gripping her arms and where the swelling had become a muffled pulsing on the left side of her face. But the most terrible pain, the most unbearable, was in her heart, which had shattered into pieces.
She passed the hours in a restless half sleep, not even noticing the dawn arrive. Around midday, sounds from the bedroom pulled her out of an intermittent sleep. Realizing that Orlando was awake, she was seized with terror. She heard him go into the bathroom, and she sat up on the sofa. She held her breath at the sound of the toilet flushing. She visualized each sound, each movement he made, his footsteps coming closer …
When Orlando came into the living room, he stopped dead at the sight of her.
“Good Lord, my love!” he exclaimed, running over to her. “Look at your face! Does it hurt a lot? I’ll make coffee and bring you an aspirin, okay? I’m so sorry. Forgive me. I’m sorry for hitting you and all the horrible things I said. It’s just that you drove me crazy … I swear it will never happen again.”
He was speaking in a cloying tone. He took her hands in his and kissed them tenderly, stroking her hair delicately. Billie could see from the look in his eyes that he was genuinely upset by her battered face. She didn’t reply. She didn’t know what to think. In that moment, Orlando didn’t seem like the savage, violent being who had attacked her the night before. This was her Orlando, the one she knew and loved so much, her light, her sun god.
He helped her get up from the sofa and accompanied her, lovingly, to the bedroom. He undressed her and put her in bed, tucking her in with the utmost care, then went to make coffee and bring her breakfast in bed. He brought her aspirin and an ice pack, lowered the shade, and kissed her forehead tenderly.
“Rest, my darling. I’ll tell Gregorio that you’re indisposed and you won’t be back at work for a few days. Don’t worry about a thing, okay? I love you.”
All week Orlando went above and beyond to be kind to her. He was more attentive than ever and ready to carry out her smallest desire. He brought her flowers and chocolates, bought her magazines so she wouldn’t get bored, and surprised her with records by her favorite singers. He even came home right after the party hall closed. Little by little, Billie regained her trust in him. She started to harbor the hope that something had changed between them and that they would go back to being as happy as before, like they had been in Cuba. She told herself that sometimes a relationship needed a wake-up call to reset itself. Orlando had shown in a million ways that he regretted what he had done, and she believed him. She had to recognize that she had provoked him, that she was the first one to raise her hand. Her mother would never have dared to raise a hand to her father. Orlando had lost control, that was true, but Billie was certain that he would never do it again. After all, he had promised. But then one afternoon …
“Gregorio is getting impatient,” Orlando said. “He wants you to return to work. Your face is fine now. With a little makeup, nobody will see anything.”
“I don’t want to go back there, Orlando,” she replied in a low voice, with a slight tremor in it. “I’ll find another job.”
“What do you mean you don’t want to go back?” Orlando furrowed his brow but contained his impatience and his voice stayed calm. “What about your career as a singer? You want to sing, right?”
“Yes, but not there, not under those conditions. Gladys can help me find a job in the cafeteria where she works.”
“As a waitress? You want to leave the New York to go work as a waitress in a cafeteria? What’s the difference, except that you won’t be able to sing there?”
“At least they won’t treat me like a—”
“Are you sure about that? Sweetie, you’ll still be a black babe, as they say here, and all the men will still be drooling over your ass. Only I won’t be there to protect you.” He leapt to his feet, and his tone grew more commanding. “Come on, enough nonsense. Get used to the idea that you’ll be performing at the New York tonight.”
“Orlando, please, don’t make me go,” Billie begged.
He sighed, said down next to her again, and took her hand, softening his tone.
“My love, maybe you don’t understand? Gregorio hired both of us, but he really just wanted you for the show. I was very clear with him that it was both of us or neither. If you leave, he’ll kick my butt out the door without a second thought. And you don’t want that to happen, do you?”
“No, but I’m also not going to turn into a whore, Orlando. I’m not one of those girls from the New York.”
“My love, don’t use such ugly words. What’s the problem? Do you know what the girls tell me? That when they go with a guy, they get in bed and distract themselves by thinking about other things until it’s over. Then they get dressed, take the money, and leave. It’s just a job, babe.”
“Well, I won’t do that kind of work!” she replied, pulling her hand free of her husband’s and getting up from the sofa. “And you can’t make me. I’m your wife!”
“That’s why you’ll do what I tell you to do!” Orlando shouted, jumping to his feet in fury and turning on her. Billie backed up, suddenly frightened. Noticing her reaction, he clenched his fists trying to control his rage, but his roaring voice left her petrified. He brought his icy gaze a few inches from her face and added, “Or I’ll leave you with a face that won’t be able to be seen at the New York—or anywhere—for a long time.”
“I’m not going—” Billie muttered, despite her terror.
Orlando suddenly seized her by the neck, pushed her against the wall, and raised his fist. Billie closed her eyes, waiting for the blow, but Orlando let her go and backed up a few steps.
“Don’t make me show you again who’s in charge here, okay? I’d better go now, before I do something stupid. I don’t want to give you any excuse not to show up at the New York tonight. I’ll be waiting for you there. You’d better show up.” He turned and left, slamming the door on his way out.
Billie stood in the middle of the living room, paralyzed with fear until she heard the elevator descending and the familiar sound of the street door closing. Then she exhaled a deep sigh of relief tinged with despair, crumpled against the wall, and burst into hopeless tears.
Night fell slowly over Madrid, and shadows started to stretch over the tiny apartment. Curled up on the couch in a fetal position as though she wanted to return to the warmth of the womb, Billie tried to make a decision. She had spent hours mulling over her options and still didn’t know what to do. She was supposed to meet Orlando in less than an hour. He had made it very clear what he expected of her in the future. She was afraid of what he would do when he came home if she didn’t show up at the bar.
“Hello?” Gladys’s voice answered through the telephone.
“Gladys …”
“Hey, girl! How are you?” Gladys said. The sob that came through the line after a brief silence alarmed her. “What’s going on?”
Through floods of tears, Billie told her friend everything that had happened over the last few days.
“You have to leave that man, Billie,” Gladys advised her. “There’s no doubt about it. If he really loved you, he wouldn’t treat you like this. And you can be sure that when a man dares to hit a wom
an, it’s never the last time, no matter how many times he asks for forgiveness, even though he swears on his mother’s life he’ll never attack you again. He’ll do it again, Billie, and it’ll be worse each time. You have to get out of that house right away.”
“But where am I going to go?” Billie asked, her voice wavering with tears.
“Come here. Aldo and I will help you.”
“I can’t go to your house. It will be the first place Orlando looks for me, and I don’t want you to get into trouble because of me.”
“Don’t worry about us, darling. But you’re right: this is the first place he’ll come …” Gladys paused, thinking. “Okay, for now you come here, and then we’ll think of something. We’ll find a safe place for you. Everything will be okay.”
Gladys was right. She couldn’t waste any more time. She put a few things in a duffel bag and grabbed some money. Orlando was in charge of both their incomes and gave her a small allowance for the daily shopping and her expenses. It wasn’t much, but she could live on it for a few days and pay for a room. When she closed the door behind her, her heart shrank. There was no turning back. Orlando hadn’t left her any alternative. The sun of her life had been eclipsed forever, and she would have to find her own light, even with her soul smashed into a thousand pieces.
CHAPTER 13
Billie found live-in work as a maid at a luxurious chalet in a residential neighborhood on the outskirts of Madrid. She chose the job because it enabled her to avoid the center of the city and the danger of running into Orlando. She was still afraid all the time. Gladys had told her that Orlando had come to her apartment and searched every last corner, even though she and Aldo both swore that Billie wasn’t there and they didn’t know where she was. But he didn’t listen to them—he wasn’t seeing reason. He bellowed that Billie was his wife and that she would return to their conjugal home, by hook or by crook. After going over the place one more time, he stormed out of the apartment in a rage, disowning his friends and peppering them with insults and threats.
