Now and Forever
Page 35
“Auntie Jude . . .”
I dry myself off with a towel.
“I’ll be right back, troublemakers.”
Eric grabs me. He doesn’t want me to go either. Since I’ve been back, he can’t get enough of me.
“C’mon, stay with us, dear.”
“Darling,” I murmur, kissing him, “I can’t miss it. Today Esmeralda Mendoza is going to find out who her real mother is, and the series is ending. How can I miss it?”
My German lets out a laugh and gives me a kiss.
“Go on then.”
With a smile on my lips, I leave my three loves in the pool and run to Simona. She’s already waiting for me in the kitchen. When I get there, I sit next to her, and she gives me a tissue. Emerald Madness starts. Simona and I are full of emotion, and, just when we think the series is over, we see across the screen: “To be continued.”
“To be continued!” we both scream, our eyes wide.
We look at each other and laugh. Emerald Madness will go on, and we’re sure to go on with it every single day.
Simona goes to make dinner, and I’m on my way back to the pool when I bump into the kids with Eric in the living room, playing Mortal Kombat on the Wii.
“Uncle Eric, you wanna smash the girls?”
I grin. I sit down next to my love, and, when I see the look on my niece’s face after hearing what Flyn said, we put our thumbs together and give each other a high five.
“Let’s go, Luz. Let’s show these Germans how the Spanish play.”
After more than an hour of games, my niece and I stand up and start singing Queen’s “We Are the Champions” in front of them.
Flyn looks at us with a furrowed brow. He doesn’t like to lose. Eric looks at me and smiles. He enjoys my liveliness. I jump on top of him and kiss him.
“You owe me a rematch.”
“Just say when, Iceman.”
“Gross, Auntie! Why do you two always have to kiss?”
“Yeah, how gross!” agrees Flyn.
“Run along. Go to the kitchen and get a Coca-Cola,” Eric says to get them off our backs.
At the mention of soda, the kids hurry off right away. Once we’re alone, Eric lays me down on the sofa.
“We have a minute, two max. Come on, get naked!”
I start laughing. Eric tickles me, sticking his hands under my shirt, when suddenly we hear “Babe! Babe!”
Eric and I quickly sit up. My sister is standing in the doorway, a look of panic on her face, and shouts, “Oh God! Oh God! I think my water broke.”
Eric and I run to her side.
“It can’t be. I can’t be giving birth. I still have a month and a half. I don’t want to have this baby! No. It’s not time!”
“Calm down, Raquel,” Eric murmurs while he makes a call.
But my sister is my sister.
“I can’t give birth here. The baby has to be born in Madrid. All her things are there and . . . and . . . Where’s Papá? We have to go to Madrid. Where’s Papá?”
“Raquel . . . please, calm down,” I say. “Papá’s with Norbert. He’ll be back in a few hours.”
“I don’t have a few hours! Call him and tell him to get here now! Oh God! I can’t be giving birth! First comes your wedding, then I go back to Madrid, and then, finally, I have my little girl. That’s the order of things, and nothing can go wrong!”
I try to hold her hands, but she’s so anxious, she slaps me away.
“We have to take her to the hospital,” I tell Eric.
“Don’t worry, darling,” Eric whispers. “I’ve called Marta, and she’s waiting for us at her hospital.”
“What hospital?” my sister howls, losing her mind. “I don’t trust German health care. My daughter has to be born in the Doce de Octubre, not here!”
“Well, Raquel,” I sigh, “I think the little girl’s going to be German.”
“No!” Grabbing Eric around the neck, she pulls on him and demands, “Call your plane. Have it pick us up and take us to Madrid. I have to give birth there.”
Eric blinks. He looks at me, and I start laughing.
“Babe, please don’t laugh!”
“Raquel . . . look at me,” I say. “Number one: relax. Number two: if the baby has to be born here, she’ll be born in the best hospital because Eric’s going to take care of it. And number three: don’t you worry about my wedding; we have time, darling.”
Eric is now looking as flustered as can be. He tells Simona to stay with the kids. Then, paying no heed to my sister’s protests, he takes her in his arms and puts her in the car. In twenty minutes, we’re at the hospital where Marta works. She’s waiting for us. But my sister sticks to her guns. The baby can’t be born here.
Still, nature takes its course, and, five hours later, a precious little girl weighing almost six and a half pounds is born in Germany. After getting through the ordeal of childbirth with my sister, who refuses to be alone in a delivery room with only strangers she doesn’t understand, I walk out, looking disheveled, and search for Eric and my father. They both look so serious.
“God, that was horrible!” I say.
“Darling,” says Eric, concerned, “are you all right?”
“It was terrible, Eric . . . Terrible. Look at all the hives on my neck!”
I pick up a magazine from the table and fan myself. It’s so hot!
“Sweetheart,” my father growls, “stop with the silliness and tell me how your sister’s doing.”
“Oh, Papá! I’m sorry,” I sigh. “Raquel and the baby are great. She weighs almost six and a half pounds. Raquel cried when she saw her, and I laughed. It’s wonderful!”
Eric smiles, my father too, and they hug. Eric congratulates him. But I’m still in shock.
“The baby is precious . . . but I . . . I’m dizzy.”
Frightened, Eric holds on to me. My father takes away my magazine and fans me.
“Eric.”
“Yes, darling.”
I look at him, my eyes wide.
“Please, darling. Don’t let me go through that.”
Eric doesn’t seem to know what to say.
Then the dizzy spell passes, and I’m myself again.
“Another girl. Why am I always surrounded by women?” my father asks. “When will I have a little grandson?”
Both men look at me. I blink.
“Don’t look at me. After what I’ve seen, I don’t want to have kids, no way!”
An hour later, Raquel is in a lovely room, and the three of us go to visit her. Little Lucía is precious, and Eric drools over her.
I look at him. Since when does he like babies so much? After asking my sister’s permission, I delicately pick up the little one.
In the evening, my father says he’ll stay with my sister and baby niece at the hospital. I call him Daddy Duck when I say goodbye to him, and he laughs. Eric and I get in the car to go home. I’m exhausted. Eric drives in silence while a German song plays on the radio and I look out the window in a trance. Suddenly, when we get to our neighborhood, he stops the car on the right side of the road.
“Get out of the car.”
I blink and laugh.
“C’mon, Eric. Now?”
“Get out of the car, baby.”
Amused, I do as he says. I know what he’s going to do. Then “Black and White” by Malú comes on, and Eric turns the volume up as loud as it goes. He stands in front of me.
“Would you dance with me?”
I smile and put my hands around his neck. Eric pulls me close to his body as the music plays.
“You know what, darling?”
“What, big boy?”
“Today, when I saw baby Lucía, it made me think . . .”
“No . . . Don’t even think about it!”
Shit! I just remembered what my sister went through. Horrible! Eric smiles, then hugs me even closer against him.
“Wouldn’t you like to have a little girl to teach motocross to?”
I laug
h.
“No.”
“Or a little boy to teach how to skateboard?”
“No.”
We keep dancing.
“We’ve never talked about it, baby. But don’t you want us to have kids?”
God Almighty! What are we doing talking about this?
“Oh God, Eric!” I whisper. “If you’d seen what I’ve seen, you would understand why I don’t want to have any. It gets so . . . huge . . . huuuuuuuuuge, and it has to hurt like hell. No. I don’t want to have kids. If you want to call off the wedding, I’ll understand. But don’t ask me to think about having kids right now, because I don’t want to even imagine it.”
Eric gives me a kiss on the forehead.
“You’re going to be an amazing mother. You just have to see how you treat Luz, Flyn, Susto, and Calamar, and how you look at little Lucía.”
I don’t answer. I can’t. Eric keeps me dancing.
“I’m not canceling any wedding. Now close your eyes, relax, and dance with me to our song.”
I close my eyes. I relax, and I dance with him. I enjoy it.
Four days later, they let my sister out of the hospital, and two days after that, baby Lucía is out too. Even though she was born prematurely, the little girl is as strong as an oak and absolutely darling. My father won’t stop saying she looks just like me, and, it’s true, she has dark hair, my mouth, and my nose. She’s cute as can be. Every time Eric picks up the baby, he looks at me with eyes as sweet as honey. I shake my head no, and he bursts out laughing. I don’t think it’s funny.
Days pass, and it’s time for the wedding.
On the morning of the big day, I’m freaking out. What am I doing dressed up as a bride? My sister’s a nuisance, and my niece is a troublemaker, so finally it’s my father who has to keep order between us. I’m so nervous about the wedding, I even think about running away. When I tell him, my father calms me. But when, wearing my beautiful off-the-shoulder wedding dress, I walk into the crowded San Cayetano church on the arm of my excited father and I see my Iceman waiting for me, more handsome than ever in that morning coat, I know I’m not going to have one kid; I’m going to have a bazillion.
The ceremony is short; Eric and I wanted it that way. When we exit, our friends and family cover us in rice and white rose petals.
We hold the reception in a beautiful room in Munich. The food, half of it German, the other half Spanish, is delicious, and everyone seems to like it.
Eric has spared no expense. He doesn’t want my father, my sister, and me to feel lonely, and he’s brought my good friend Nacho; Bicharrón and Lucena with her girls from Jerez; Lola; Pepi from the grocery store; Pachuca; and Fernando with his Valencian girlfriend. According to them, the Frankfurter got in touch and invited them all, all expenses paid. Eric even invited the Maxwell Warriors. How crazy is that!
It’s wonderful, and I could eat my husband up with kisses.
From Müller, he invited Miguel with his hurricane of a girlfriend, Gerardo and his wife, and Raúl and Paco who, when they see me, clap with excitement.
We toast with pink Moët & Chandon. Eric and I intertwine our glasses and drink happily in front of the crowd. The cake is chocolate truffle and strawberry, on express request of the groom, and when I see it, I can’t tell you how much I blush.
When the dancing starts, my husband surprises me again. Eric has hired Malú herself, and she sings our song, “Black and White,” live and in person. What a moment! In his arms, I enjoy the song while we gaze at each other. God, I love him so much!
After that, a band livens up the place. Sonia, my father, and my sister seem to be bursting with happiness. Marta and Arthur applaud. Flyn and Luz, having fun, run around the room, and Simona and Norbert can’t stop smiling. Everything is romantic. Everything is wonderful, and we enjoy our special day.
Beaming, I dance with Reinaldo and Anita while we scream, “Azúcar!” Eric says I am his happiness.
With Sonia, Björn, Frida, and Andrés, we let our hair down and dance to “September.” When the song is over, Dexter grabs the microphone and, a cappella, sings a Mexican bolero dedicated to Eric and me. I smile and clap.
I have some great friends in and out of the bedroom. They’re people like me who like to get turned on and play hot games behind closed doors but who, outside those rooms, are thoughtful, caring, courteous, and really fun. All of them make me grateful and happy.
The reception lasts for hours, finally ending at four o’clock in the morning. My father and sister take the kids and Flyn to sleep at Sonia’s house. They want to leave us the whole house to ourselves.
Once there, Eric picks me up in his arms to carry me over the threshold. Thrilled, I let him. Inside, he sets me down.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Zimmerman.”
Delighted, I taste my husband, and I want him.
Not saying a word, I take off his morning coat, his bow tie, his shirt, his trousers, and his underwear.
“Put on your bow tie, Iceman.”
Amused, he does as I say. My fantasy is my German naked but for his bow tie. I pull him by the arm, and when we get to the door of his office, I look at him and whisper, “I want you to tear off my thong.”
“Are you sure, darling?” my love asks, laughing.
“Positive.”
Clearly aroused, Eric starts raising fabric, and more fabric . . . and more fabric. The skirt on my dress is endless. I finally stop him as I laugh.
“C’mon . . . sit in your big chair.”
He does what I say and looks up at me.
Turned on, I unfasten the skirt of my beautiful wedding dress, and it falls to my feet. Wearing only the bodice and a thong, I sit down on my husband’s desk.
“Now tear it off!”
Eric rips the white thong, and when he passes his hands over my tattooed and always waxed mound, he murmurs in a gravelly voice, “Tell me what you want.”
It all started between us when he said those words to me that day in the archive room. I smile when I remember my face the first time he took me to Moroccio, and when I saw that recording in the hotel, and when I put the strawberry bubble gum in his mouth. Memories. Hot, sexy, and funny memories pass through my mind while my crazy, passionate husband touches me. And, wanting to forever seal what started that day, I kiss him, grab his hard cock with my hand, guide it toward my wet slit, and slide it in. When my love gasps, I look at those wonderful blue eyes that have always driven me crazy and crazy in love.
“Mr. Zimmerman,” I say, “tell me what you want, now and forever.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2015 Carlos Santana
Megan Maxwell is a prize-winning author who was born in Nuremberg, Germany, but has lived her life in and around Madrid, Spain. She credits her success to the stubbornness that kept her knocking on editorial doors for years until her first novel was published in 2010 and became the winner of the International Prize for the Romantic Novel in 2011. Since then, she has published dozens of novels, including romance, erotica, historical, and time-travel tales, and has won many more accolades. She is a great dreamer who believes that to dream is to live.
ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR
Photo © 2017 Megan Bayles
Achy Obejas is the author of The Tower of the Antilles, which was nominated for a PEN/Faulkner Award for Fiction, as well as several other books of fiction, including Ruins and Days of Awe. As a translator, she has worked with Wendy Guerra, Junot Díaz, Rita Indiana, and many others. In 2014, she was awarded a USA Ford Fellowship for her writing and translation. Born in Havana, she now lives in the San Francisco Bay Area. For more info, visit www.achyobejas.com.
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