Eric looks at us in disbelief. His face grows darker by the second. He takes off his jacket, leaves it on the hood of the car, and puts his hands on his hips.
“What haven’t you told me about my mother and my sister? What other secrets are you hiding?”
“Son, don’t shout at Judith like that. Poor thing.”
I can’t speak. My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth.
“Just so you know, Mom and I have been taking a skydiving course for months. There! Now get angry and yell like you always do, brother.”
Eric’s face says a thousand words.
“Skydiving? Have you lost your minds?”
Suddenly, Simona comes in, a look of distress on her face.
“Sir, Flyn is crying. He wants you to come up.”
“What is Flyn doing up at this hour?” He takes a step but then stops short. He looks at his sister and mother, and asks, “What happened? Why are you two here at this hour?”
He doesn’t give them time to answer. He goes off like a shot toward Flyn’s room. Sonia follows him.
“What’s going on?” I ask Marta.
She sighs. “Dear, I’m sorry to tell you my nephew fell on his skateboard and broke his arm.”
When I hear that, my legs buckle. It can’t be true!
“How?”
“We called you on the phone a thousand times, but you didn’t pick up.”
“There was no service where we were. Is he all right?”
“Yes, but he just keeps repeating that Eric’s going to be angry with him.”
As we walk inside the house, my heart beats hard and fast. Eric won’t forgive me for any of this. All the secrets that were tormenting me have come to light at the same time.
When I walk into Flyn’s room, the boy is in a cast. I try to go to him, but Eric blocks me.
“How could you disobey me? I said no skating.”
“I’m sorry, Eric.” My voice is a whisper.
He looks at me scornfully. “Of course you’re sorry.”
I close my eyes.
I knew this would happen someday, but I never thought Eric’s reaction would be so intense. I don’t know what to say. I just see his cold gaze. Moving to one side, I approach the boy and kiss him on the forehead.
“Are you all right?”
The kid nods.
“I’m sorry, Jude. I got bored; I took the skateboard and fell.”
“It’s OK. I’m just sorry you got hurt.”
The boy nods sadly. Eric takes me by the arm and pulls me out of the room along with his mother and sister.
“Go to sleep. I’ll talk to you later. I’m staying with Flyn.”
I don’t know what to do. I sit down on the bed in our room and hang my head. I want to be with Eric and Flyn, but I know Eric won’t let me.
36
The next morning, when I go down to the kitchen, Marta, Eric, and Sonia are sitting around the table, arguing. They fall silent as I walk in, and that makes me feel terrible.
Simona caringly makes me a cup of coffee, asking for forgiveness with her eyes.
“How is Flyn?” I ask as I sit at the table.
“Thanks to you, he’s in pain,” he says with a hard gaze I don’t like one bit.
Sonia growls at her son, “Damn it, Eric! It’s not Judith’s fault. Why are you always trying to blame her?”
“Because she knows she wasn’t supposed to teach him to ride a skateboard,” he answers, furious.
I don’t know what to say.
“Are you really this stupid, or are you pretending?” Marta butts in.
“Marta . . . ,” Eric hisses.
“Don’t you see the kid has changed thanks to her? Don’t you see Flyn isn’t the introverted kid he was before she came here?” Eric doesn’t answer, and Marta goes on. “You should thank her every time you see Flyn smile and actually behave like a boy his age. Because you know what, little brother? Kids fall down, but they get back up and learn; apparently, you’ve never figured that out.”
He doesn’t respond. Instead, without even looking at me, he leaves the kitchen. My heart sinks.
“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him,” I mutter.
“Give him a slap upside the head. That’s what he deserves,” Marta says.
Sonia touches my hand. “Don’t blame yourself for anything, dear. Not for having Hannah’s bike or for going out with Jurgen and his friends either.”
“I should’ve told him about it,” I declare.
“Yes, of course, if only it were so easy to say something to Mr. Grumpy!” Marta protests. “You must love him a lot because otherwise I don’t know why you put up with him. I love him; he’s my brother, but I assure you, I can’t stand him sometimes.”
“Marta,” Sonia whispers, “don’t be so hard on Eric.”
She stands up and lights a cigarette. I ask her for one too.
When I leave the kitchen twenty minutes later, I go down to Eric’s office. I take a deep breath and enter.
“What do you want, Judith?”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you . . .”
“I don’t need your apologies. You lied.”
“You’re right. I hid things from you but . . .”
“You lied to me this whole time. You hid important things from me when you knew you shouldn’t. Am I such an ogre that you can’t tell me anything?”
I don’t answer. We just look at each other.
“What does ‘now and forever’ really mean to you? What does the commitment of being together mean to you?”
His questions throw me off. I don’t know what to say.
“Look, Judith, I’m pissed off at you and at myself,” he finally says. “It’d be better for you to leave me alone so I can think. I need to calm down so I don’t say or do something I’ll regret.”
His words infuriate me. “Are you already throwing me out of your life like you do every time you get mad?”
He doesn’t answer, so I turn around and walk out.
With tears in my eyes, I go back to my room and shut the door. I know his anger is justified. I know I asked for it, but he has to realize that if I didn’t tell him anything, it was because we all feared his reactions. I regret it. I regret it very much, but there’s nothing I can do now.
Ten minutes later, Marta and Sonia come to say goodbye. They’re worried. I smile and tell them they can go, that there’s no problem.
Once they’ve gone, I sit and think for hours and feel sorry for myself. At one point, I hear a car driving away. I look out the window and see it’s Eric who’s leaving. I look for Simona, but before I can even ask, she explains, “He’s going to see Björn. He said he won’t be long.”
I close my eyes and sigh. I go up to Flyn’s room, and, when he sees me, the boy smiles. He looks better than he did last night. I sit down on his bed and touch his head.
“How are you?”
“Fine.”
“Does your arm hurt?”
The kid nods and smiles.
“Oh my God! Darling, you broke a tooth too!”
I look so alarmed that Flyn murmurs, “Don’t worry. Grandma Sonia says it’s made of milk.” I chuckle at that, and he surprises me with his next words. “I’m sorry my uncle is so mad. I won’t ride the skateboard again. You warned me to never use it if you weren’t there. But I was bored and . . .”
“Don’t worry, Flyn. These things happen sometimes. When I was a little girl, I broke my leg doing a jump on my bike and, years later, my arm too. Things happen because they have to happen. Really, don’t give it another thought.”
“I don’t want you to leave, Judith! I’m all mixed up.”
“Did your uncle say I’m going to leave?”
The kid shakes his head no, but I draw my own conclusions.
I swallow the knot of emotions fighting to push up through my throat. I breathe in.
“Listen, dear. Whether I stay or go, we’ll still be friends, OK?” He nods, and, with pain in my
heart, I change the subject. “Would you like to play cards?”
The boy agrees, and I swallow my tears and play with him while I think about what he said. Does Eric want me to leave?
After dinner, Eric comes back and goes straight to his nephew’s room, but I refrain from going in. For hours, I lie back in the living room armchair and watch TV until I can’t do it any longer and go outside with Susto and Calamar. I walk around the neighborhood and take longer than I should, hoping Eric will come looking for me or call my cell. But he doesn’t, and when I get back, Simona tells me the boss has already gone to sleep.
I look at my watch. Eleven thirty.
Saddened because Eric went to bed before I returned, I walk into the house. After giving the pets some water, I cautiously walk up the staircase. I peek into Flyn’s room. The boy’s sleeping. I give him a kiss on the forehead and head to our room. Walking in, I look at the bed.
The darkness doesn’t let me see Eric clearly, but I know the bulge I can vaguely make out is him. In silence, I take my clothes off and get into bed. I want to embrace him, but, when I get close, he turns over.
His scorn hurts me, but I’m determined to talk to him.
“Eric, I’m sorry, darling. Please forgive me.”
I know he’s awake. I know it. Not moving, he finally responds, “You’re forgiven. Go to sleep. It’s late.”
With a broken heart, I curl up and, not touching him, try to fall asleep. I turn over a thousand times and finally succeed.
37
I’m alone in bed the next morning, which doesn’t surprise me, but when I go down to the kitchen and Simona tells me the boss has gone to work, I sigh with indignation.
I spend the day with Flyn as best I can. The little boy is irascible. His arm hurts, and his typical good mood with me is nonexistent.
Desperate for a break, I sit down with Simona to watch Emerald Madness.
Eric doesn’t come home for lunch, and when he gets back from the office late in the evening, he greets me with a nod and goes to see his nephew. He eats dinner with him, and, at bedtime, he does the same thing as the night before. He turns over and doesn’t talk to me.
I put up with this for four days. He doesn’t speak to me. He doesn’t look at me. And on Thursday, he surprises me when he comes into my room.
“We need to talk,” he blurts out.
That doesn’t sound good, but I agree.
He tells me to step into his office; he’s going to see his nephew first. I do as he asks, and I wait for him for more than half an hour. He’s provoking me. When he finally comes down to the office, my nerves are frayed. He sits down at his desk, looks at me as if he hasn’t seen me in days, and leans back in his armchair.
“Talk to me.”
I stare at him.
“You want me to talk to you?”
“Yes, talk to me. I know you; I know you must have a lot to say.”
Just like that, I explode. “How can you be so cold? It’s Thursday, and you haven’t spoken to me since Saturday. Oh my God! I’m going crazy. Are you never going to talk to me again? Are you just going to torture me? To nail me to a cross and see how I bleed out in front of you? Cold, that’s what you are. You have no sense of humor. If I’m nice, you think I’m flirting. What world are we living in? How can you be such . . . such . . . an asshole?” I shout. “I’m so sick of it! At times like this, I don’t know what you and I are doing together. We’re fire and ice, and I’m tired of trying to keep you from consuming me with your goddamned coldness.”
He doesn’t respond.
“Your sister Hannah died, and you’re taking care of her son. Do you think she would approve of what you’re doing with him?” Eric gasps, but I don’t slow down. “I didn’t know her, but, based on what I do know about her, I’m sure she would have taught Flyn how to do all the things you’re keeping away from him. Like your sister said the other night, kids learn. They fall down, but they get back up. When are you going to get back up?”
“What are you saying?” he asks, astonished.
“I’m saying you should stop worrying about things that aren’t happening. I’m saying you should let other people live their lives and understand that not everyone likes the same things. I’m saying you should accept that Flyn is a kid and has to learn a hundred things that . . .”
“Enough!”
“Eric, don’t you miss me? Don’t you want me around?”
“Yes.”
“Then why? I’m right here. What do you need to happen before you talk to me and try to forgive me? I’m human, and I make mistakes. I’ll own up to what I did with the bike. I should have told you. But, c’mon, have I forbidden you from Olympic shooting? No, right? And why not, even though I hate guns? It’s easy, Eric. Because I love you, and I respect that you like something I don’t. As far as Flyn is concerned, you’re right. You said no to the skateboard, but the kid needed to learn so he could show the kids who call him a scaredy-cat and a chicken that he can be one of them and ride a goddamned skateboard. Oh! Not to mention that he likes a girl in his class and wants to impress her. Did you know that?” He shakes his head. “As for your mother and sister, they asked me not to say anything, to keep their secret, so I did. When my father kept your secret about buying the house in Jerez, should I have gotten angry with him? C’mon, please . . . I’ve only done what all families do: keep little secrets and try to help each other. And as for Betta, oh God! Every time I think about her touching you in front of me, I see red.”
“I’ve heard enough.”
“You’re just waiting for me to leave, aren’t you?”
I can see my question surprises him. “Why did you tell Flyn I might be leaving? Maybe that’s what you’re going to ask me to do, and you’re already preparing the kid for it?”
“I didn’t say that to Flyn. What are you talking about?”
“I don’t believe you.”
He doesn’t respond right away.
“I don’t know what to do with you, Jude. I love you, but you drive me crazy. I need you, but you exasperate me. I adore you, but . . .”
After so many days of his not speaking to me, I’m a tsunami, and I just keep going.
“You should change your name and call yourself Mr. Perfect. What? You never make mistakes? Oh no! Mr. Zimmerman is God!”
“Do you want to shut up and listen to me? I need to tell you something, and I want to ask you to—”
“You want to ask me to leave, right? I just have to break one more rule for you to throw me out of your life again.”
We look at each other like rivals.
Still, I want to kiss him. But now is not the time for that. Then the office door opens, and Björn comes in with a bottle of champagne in his hands. He looks at us, and before he can say a word, I grab him around the neck and kiss him on the lips. I push my tongue into his mouth, and he looks at me in shock.
“I just broke your big rule. From now on, my mouth is not just yours.”
Eric’s expression is indescribable. I know he wasn’t expecting that from me. And Björn is clearly flabbergasted.
“I’ll make it easy for you. You don’t have to throw me out, because now I’m leaving. I’ll collect my things and disappear from your house and your life forever. I’m tired. Tired of having to hide things from you. Tired of your rules. Just plain tired,” I say. “I’m only going to ask you for one last favor: I need your plane to take me, Susto, and my things to Madrid. I don’t want to put Susto in a cage in the cargo hold of a plane and . . .”
“Why won’t you shut up?”
“Because I just don’t feel like it.”
“Kids, please, calm down,” Björn says. “I think you’re both exaggerating things and . . .”
“I’ve been quiet,” I say, ignoring Björn and addressing Eric, “for four days, and you haven’t thought twice about what I might be thinking or feeling. You haven’t cared about my pain, my fury, or my frustration. So, don’t ask me to shut up now because I won’t do
it.”
Björn watches us, stunned.
“He’s not leaving, and you’re not either!”
After his outburst, I raise my chin and push my hair out of my face.
“Fine! Don’t help me. Susto can stay with you, and I’ll find a way to take him later. But on Sunday, I’m leaving!”
“Then go, damn it!” he shouts, finally losing control.
Just like that, I leave the office, feeling again like my heart is split in two.
That night, I sleep in my room, and Eric doesn’t come to find me. He’s not worried about me, and that saps the very last of my hope. I’ve achieved his goal. I’ve made it easy, so he doesn’t have to be the one who throws me out of his house and his life. Lying on the fluffy rug next to Susto, I look out the window, aware that my beautiful love story with Eric has finally ended.
When he goes to work the next day like nothing is wrong, I’m shattered. In the kitchen, Simona says hello, unaware of my sorrow. I drink my coffee in silence, then ask her to sit beside me. When I tell her I’m leaving, her face contracts, and, for the first time in all the months I’ve spent here, I see her cry. She hugs me, and I hug her.
For the next few hours, I gather my possessions, put photos, books, and CDs in boxes, and every time I tape one shut, my heart sinks. In the afternoon, I meet up with Marta at Arthur’s bar and tell her I’m leaving.
“Is my brother that much of an idiot?”
Her eloquence makes me grin.
“It’s for the best, Marta. You know your brother and I love each other a lot, but we’re just totally incapable of fixing our problems.”
“No, it’s just my brother!” she insists. “I know that pigheaded man, and if you’re leaving, I’m sure it’s because he hasn’t made things easy for you. But I swear on my mother he’s going to listen to me. I’m really going to lay into him about this.”
Frida shows up a while later and joins us in our lament, and we talk for hours. We console each other while Arthur keeps coming back to bring us fresh drinks. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with us. All he knows is we’re crying one minute and laughing the next.
Suddenly, I remember something. I look at the clock. It’s seven twenty on Friday evening.
“Do you two know where the Trattoria da Vincenzo is?”
Now and Forever Page 29
