“Your sister didn’t want to worry you. She talked to Eric about it and asked him not to tell you.”
“Oh great!” I hiss, wishing I could rip Eric’s head off for being so fake with me.
“Listen, sweetheart, your sister knew if we said anything to you, you’d come to Madrid. I only did what she asked. But don’t worry, she’s all right.”
“I know, Papá. I’ve seen her, and she left me speechless.”
My father nods.
“I’m very sad about what’s happened, but if Jesús didn’t value my little girl like he should, it’s best for him to leave her alone. What a cad!” he whispers. “With any luck, she will find a man who values her, loves her, and above all, makes her smile again.”
I look at him with a feeling of sweetness. Papá is a hopeless romantic.
“And you, are you going to tell me what happened with Eric?”
I sit down beside him and take a sip of the Coca-Cola he’s just handed me.
“We’re incompatible, Papá.”
He shakes his head.
“When I was there for your birthday, I thought you looked good together. You looked happy, and Eric was totally in love with you. Why this change all of a sudden?”
He waits for an explanation, and he won’t stop until he gets one.
“Papá, when Eric and I got back together, we promised each other we would never hide things from each other and we’d be one hundred percent up-front. But I haven’t kept that promise, and now it looks like he hasn’t either.”
“You haven’t kept it?”
“No, Papá . . . I . . .”
I tell him everything: Marta and Sonia’s skydiving classes, the bike, my outings with Jurgen and his friends, teaching Flyn to skateboard and roller skate, the boy’s fall, and how I beat up on an ex-girlfriend of Eric’s who was making our life impossible.
His eyes the size of saucers, my father listens.
“You hit a woman?”
“Yes, Papá. She deserved it.”
“But, my dear, that’s horrible! A young lady like you doesn’t do such things.”
I shake my head. “I just gave her what she deserved for being a bitch.”
“Sweetheart, do you want me to wash your mouth out with soap?”
I laugh when I hear that, and he ends up laughing too. But he has a point, and patting me on the hand, he reminds me, “I didn’t teach you to behave like that.”
“I know, Papá, but she provoked me, and you already know I’m too impulsive.”
Amused, he takes a sip of his beer.
“OK, I understand why you did it, but don’t let it happen again! You’ve never been a troublemaker, and I don’t want you to become one.”
His words make me laugh. I hug him, and he whispers in my ear, “You know the saying, ‘If you love someone, let them go. If he comes back, he’s yours; if not, he was never yours’? Eric will come back. You’ll see, sweetheart.”
I don’t have the strength to respond, or to think about proverbs.
The next morning, I take my bike out and let off steam by jumping like a kamikaze pilot through the fields of Jerez. It’s my best medicine. I keep pushing it; finally, I fall. I feel like I got hit by a log. On the ground, I think about how worried Eric would be about my fall, and, when I get up, I touch my aching behind and curse.
In the afternoon, my phone rings while I’m watching TV. It’s Fernando. His father, Bicharrón, told him I’m in Jerez without Eric, and he was worried about me. Two days later, he shows up. When he sees me, we hug, and he invites me to dinner. We talk. I tell him Eric and I have broken up, and he smiles.
“That German is not going to let you get away.”
Not wanting to talk about it anymore, I ask him about his life, and I’m surprised when he tells me he’s going out with a girl from Valencia. I’m happy for him, and even more so when he tells me he’s completely and utterly head over heels for her. I love that. I want to see him happy.
Days go by, and my mood goes from happy to depressed with the flick of a switch. I miss Eric. He hasn’t gotten in touch with me this time. At night when I’m in bed, I close my eyes, and I can almost feel him next to me while my iPod plays the songs I’ve enjoyed by his side. My degree of masochism increases day by day. I’ve brought one of his T-shirts with me, and I smell it. I love his scent. It’s like I need to smell him to sleep. It’s pathetic, but I don’t care.
After I’ve been in Jerez for a week, I call Sonia in Germany. She seems very happy to get my call, and I’m surprised when she tells me Flyn is with her. Eric’s traveling. I’m tempted to ask if he’s in London, but I decide not to. I’m torturing myself enough. I talk to the boy for a long time. Neither of us mentions his uncle, and when Sonia takes the phone back, she murmurs, “Are you all right, treasure?”
“Yes, I’m with my father in Jerez, and he fusses over me like I need.”
“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m going to tell you anyway: Eric doesn’t say anything, but he misses you a lot. I’m his mother, and, even though he doesn’t tell me about it or let me look after him, I know it.”
We talk for a while longer, and before hanging up, I ask her to please not tell Eric I called. I don’t want him to think I want to turn his family against him.
After ten days in Jerez with my father, feeling the warmth of his love, I decide to return to Madrid. He goes with me. He wants to see my sister and make sure we’re both all right. The first thing we do as soon as we arrive is go to see my niece. The little girl hugs me and gives me lots of kisses, but she quickly asks about her uncle Eric.
Luz keeps pestering me about her uncle, so I decide to talk to her about it. I don’t know how she might be affected by her mother’s separation and now my own. Once we’re alone, she also asks me about the boy. I scold her for not calling Flyn by his name, but when she’s not looking at me, I chuckle. That little girl is a menace. When I tell her Eric and I are no longer together, she protests and gets mad. She wants her uncle Eric. I fuss over her and try to make her understand Eric still loves her, and she finally agrees.
“Auntie, why don’t my parents love each other anymore?” she asks all of a sudden.
What a question! What can I tell her?
I answer while I brush her pretty, dark hair. “Your parents will love each other their whole lives. They just realized they’re happier living separately.”
“But if they love each other, why do they fight so much?”
I give her a kiss on the head.
“Luz, people can love each other even though they fight. If I spend a long time around your mommy, we sometimes fight, right?” The little girl nods. “Well, you should never doubt that even though I fight with her, I love her very much. Raquel is my sister, and she’s one of the most important people in my life. It’s just that adults sometimes have different opinions about many things, and so we fight. That’s why your parents separated.”
“Why aren’t you with Uncle Eric? Because of different opinions?”
“You could say that.”
Luz fixes her little eyes on me and asks again, “But you still love him?”
I sigh. Luz and her questions!
“Of course. People don’t stop loving each other from one day to the next.”
“And he still loves you?”
I think, think hard, and, after considering my response, I say, “Yes, I think he does.”
The door opens, and my sister walks in. She looks amazing in her maternity dress. Behind her comes my father.
“Are you ready to go get a snack in the park?”
“Yeah!” Luz and I applaud.
My father picks up the camera.
“Stay like that for a moment. I’m going to take a photo of you. You all look lovely!”
40
One morning, after hours of indecision, I call the Müller offices on the phone and talk to Gerardo. Delighted to speak to me, he tells me he was expecting my call. I ask him about Miguel, and he
tells me he’s traveling and will be back on Monday. Then we talk about work, and he asks what day I want to come back. It’s Wednesday, so I decide to go in on Monday. He accepts. When I hang up, my heart is beating so fast. I’m returning to the place where it all began.
On Friday, I go to my friend Nacho’s tattoo shop. When he sees me at the door, he opens his arms, and I go running to meet him. We go out for drinks that night, and we don’t stop until the early hours of the morning.
On Sunday night, I can’t sleep. The next day, I am returning to Müller. When the alarm clock goes off, I get up, take a shower, and then get in my car and drive to the office. When I am in the parking lot, my heart starts thumping hard. After stopping by HR, I’m back at my desk, my heart lodged in my throat. I’m so nervous.
Several coworkers come to say hello. They all seem happy to see me again, and I’m thankful for their welcome. When I am alone, thousands of memories rush up. I sit down at my desk, but my eyes fly to my right, to Eric’s office, my crazy, sexy Mr. Zimmerman. I step up, open the door, and look around. Everything is just like it was the day I left. I pass my hand over the desk he touched, and, when I walk into the archive room, I feel like crying. I’ve had so many good, beautiful, hot moments with him here.
When I hear noise in the office next door, I assume my boss has arrived. I carefully step out of the archive room through Eric’s old office and go back to my desk. I straighten out my blue suit jacket, raise my chin, and decide to introduce myself. I knock on the door and walk in, my eyes as big as saucers.
“Miguel!”
Not caring who might see us, I wrap him in a hug. This is one surprise I really didn’t expect. My former coworker, pretty boy Miguel, is my boss! After our effusive greeting, Miguel looks at me.
“Not even in your dreams, sweetheart. I don’t mess around with my secretary,” he says jokingly.
That makes me laugh. I sit down, and he sits beside me.
“Since when are you the boss?” I ask, shocked.
“A couple of months,” answers Miguel.
“Seriously?”
“Yes. After they sacked the old boss and her stupid sister two days later, they called me because I was the only one who knew how to work this department. And when I saw I had them by the balls, I asked for the job, and it seems Mr. Zimmerman approved.”
Eric never told me.
“God, Miguel, you don’t know how glad that makes me. This is great for you.”
My friend brushes his hand against my face.
“I can’t say the same for you. I know you left to live in Munich with Zimmerman.” That surprises me again. There’s no reason anyone should know, and he clarifies. “Don’t worry. I bumped into your sister one day, and she told me. Nobody else knows. But what happened? What are you doing back here?”
“We broke up,” I say, aware I need to give him an explanation.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says.
I shrug.
“It didn’t go well. Mr. Zimmerman and I are too different.”
Miguel muses, “I can see that. But, you know, opposites attract.”
That makes me laugh. My father said the same thing.
Ten minutes later, we’re in the cafeteria. Miguel told my crazy friends Raúl and Paco about my return, and all four of us, like months before, spend a while in the cafeteria updating each other. When I’m back in Miguel’s office and dealing with documents, we hear a few knocks on the door. Miguel and I look at each other.
“Miss Judith Flores, please?” says a courier in a red cap.
I nod and stand stock-still while he hands me a bouquet of colorful flowers. I look at Miguel, and he raises his arms in surrender.
“It wasn’t me.”
When I open the card, my heart skips a beat as I read.
Dear Miss Flores:
Welcome to the company.
Eric Zimmerman
I close my eyes. Miguel comes close and reads the card over my shoulder.
“Wow, the big boss man! Considering you broke up with him, he’s right up to date about your return.”
My stomach twists. My heart beats like crazy. What is Eric doing?
41
The days go by, and I immerse myself in my job. Working with Miguel is a delight. He doesn’t treat me like a secretary, but like a colleague. In the afternoons, I need to get outside, so I take walks, and sometimes I’m overwhelmed by the sight of so many people. I miss those walks in the snow through my lonely, tree-filled neighborhood in Munich.
“Let me buy you lunch. I want to show you something I’m sure you’ll love,” my boss says to me one day.
We get in his car and park in downtown Madrid. Holding on to his arm as we walk down the street and talk, I see we’re going into a rather greasy burger joint.
“So, you’re a tightwad?” I say, amused.
“Why do you say that?” he asks, grinning.
“You’re really taking me out for a burger?”
Miguel nods, looks at me with a strange smile, and says, “Of course. You’ve always liked them, right?”
I shrug. “Well, I guess you’re right. But today, since you’re buying, I want double cheese and double fries.”
We get in line and chat, and when it’s time for us to order, I’m dumbfounded when I see who’s asking to take my order.
It’s my former boss. That idiot with shiny hair who made my life impossible at Müller. Now she’s the manager at a burger joint. The shock on my face is so clear, she gets instantly annoyed with me.
“If you don’t know what you want, please let the next customer order,” she grouses.
After I pull myself together, Miguel and I place our order.
“C’mon, let’s toss these burgers and go eat somewhere else,” he says, laughing as soon as we get our trays. “That girl is so nasty, she could’ve spit or put rat poison in our food.”
Horrified by the possibility, I laugh too and do as he says. Wow. Life is fair, sometimes, and it is teaching her a much-needed lesson.
Now my days are structured around work, walks, and nights spent thinking about Eric. I haven’t heard from him again. It’s been a month since I came home to Spain, and every day I feel farther from him, but when I masturbate with the vibrator he gave me, I feel like he’s right next to me.
I hang with the same old friends again, and when we go out on the town, I’m out of control. I drink more than I should, and I know I’m doing it to forget.
For the moment, no man draws my attention. No one turns me on. And when one of them tries, I cut him off immediately.
One Sunday morning, after I’ve had a good time out the night before, my doorbell rings. I get up. The bell rings again. It’s not my sister; she would have opened the door herself. When I look through the peephole, I have to blink a few times to see who it is.
“Björn?”
He lets out a good laugh.
“My God, you must’ve had a helluva night last night!”
I open my arms. He steps forward, and we come together in a wholesome and affectionate hug.
“Go on, take a shower,” he mutters. “You need to be a person.”
I run to the bathroom, and when I look in the mirror, I scare even myself. I’m a version of the Wicked Witch of the West. The water brings me back to life and gets my blood flowing again. When I’m done, I return to the living room, wearing my classic jeans, a button-up shirt, and a high ponytail.
“Lovely. You’re a thousand times more tempting like that.”
We both laugh. I invite him to sit down on the couch.
“What are you doing here?”
Björn pushes a strand of hair out of my face and tucks it behind my ear.
“No, my dear. The question is, What are you doing here?”
I don’t understand. I blink.
“You have to go back to Munich.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Eric needs you, and he needs you now!”
I shift positi
ons and clarify.
“I lost everything in Munich, Björn. You saw for yourself what happened that night. Nothing worked between him and me. You saw that . . .”
“What I saw is you kissed me to make him angry. That’s what I saw.”
“Fuck, Björn! Don’t remind me.”
“Was it so terrible?” he jokes. And when I’m about to respond, he laughs again. “But, seriously, darling, what made you want to do that?”
Even more thrown off, I furrow my brow.
“I kissed you because Eric needed one final blow to throw me out of his life. He’d just said he was going to seconds before you came in, and I’m sorry, but I saw you and I had to do it. I kissed you so he’d take the final step and be done with me.”
“But did he actually tell you to go?”
I stop and think.
“Yes.”
“No,” he corrects me. “You were shouting that you were leaving, and in the end, he said you should go if that was what you wanted. But it was you, my dear Judith, who decided to leave.”
“No . . . but . . .”
“He never told you to go.”
Before Björn says another word, I get up from the sofa.
“Look, if you came here to drive me crazy talking about your asshole of a friend, you can go right back out that door, understand?”
Björn smiles and says under his breath, “Wow! . . . Eric’s right. She’s got an attitude!”
I close my eyes. I sigh. I scratch my neck.
“Don’t scratch yourself, woman. It’s bad for your hives.”
I look at him, and he rolls his eyes.
“Listen, Eric’s driving me crazy. He never stops talking about you, and I can’t take it anymore. I know about your hives. What makes you mad. I know you love truffles. Strawberry bubble gum. Please, I can’t stand it anymore!”
That makes my heart flutter, but I don’t know if I can believe anything he says. “He told me he was going to start back up with his games.”
“He really said that?”
“Yes.”
“Well, as far as I know, my dear, I haven’t seen him at any parties. What’s more, I’m starting to think he’s going to become a monk.”
Now and Forever Page 31
