“Thank you.”
I want to jump for joy, but I contain myself.
“And when is it that your contract is up for renewal?”
“In January.”
“Go on, but be careful,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “If I were to find out you’ve done something like your friend, in the archive room or anywhere in the company, you’ll be out on your butt.”
My face must be indescribable. Eric smiles maliciously.
“Anything else?”
“No . . . well, yes.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“You’re very handsome when you smile.”
He laughs, and I turn and leave. I sit at my desk, and five minutes later, Miguel’s phone rings. It’s personnel. They’re renewing his contract, and he’s being transferred to another department.
55
Come Monday, Eric has to fly to Germany. He asks me to go with him, but I refuse. At first, he gets mad, but I make him understand that no matter how much we may want to be together twenty-four hours a day, his nephew won’t be amused by having to share him with me.
That same Monday night, he calls me, and we talk for more than three hours. He tells me how much he misses me, and I tell him how bored I am without him.
Monday after work, I decide to go to the gym. Since Eric’s been around, I hardly ever get to go. A good run on the track and a spinning class help relax me. When I’m done, I’m drenched in sweat. When I get to the locker room, I strip off my clothes and hit the showers. Refreshed, I glance over at the Jacuzzi. Seeing no one around, I decide to take a dip for a few minutes.
“Judith?” I hear a voice behind me.
A woman approaches me.
“Hi, don’t you remember me?”
Her face looks familiar, but I can’t place it.
“Marisa, Marisa de la Rosa,” she says. “We met last summer in Zahara de Atunes, at a Roaring Twenties party. Frida introduced us.”
“Oh yes . . . I remember. You’re from Huelva, right?”
“Yes, that’s right,” she says, smiling and holding the towel to her body. “How are you?”
“Exhausted,” I tell her. “I just tortured myself with a spinning class.”
“I can’t deal with spinning,” a still-smiling Marisa says. “It wipes me out. Are you headed for the Jacuzzi?”
“That was my plan.”
“Great, I’ll join you.”
For a while, we chat as the water bubbles and pops all around us. After the Jacuzzi, we both shower and exchange phone numbers.
At precisely noon the next day, I receive a bouquet of red roses at the office. When I open the note, I get teary: I’m dying to kiss you, little girl.
At four, when I get back from lunch, I’m surprised to see Eric talking with several supervisors. I’m so thrilled, I want to jump up and shout. He sees me and, for a few seconds, keeps an eye on me; then he turns and keeps talking.
Ten minutes later, I get a text: I’ll wait for you at my hotel. Look good. I love you.
Happy as a clam, I shoot out of the office at six. I get home, shower, and change. I wear a new burgundy dress I’m sure he’ll love. I arrive at Villa Magna at eight and go straight to the elevator. The elevator operator is expecting me and takes me directly to Eric’s floor.
I’m surprised I don’t see him when I first enter the suite. I look around, but I only find his briefcase and his cell on the bed. I go back to the living room to turn on some music. I turn the dial to my usual station just as Earth, Wind & Fire’s “September” is starting. I love that song. I slip off my shoes, and start dancing and singing along.
I swing my hips to the beat as I sing and savor the song. I close my eyes and spin when I get to the chorus, raise my hands, and let the rhythm take me. Suddenly, the music stops. I open my eyes and find myself face to face with Eric and a middle-aged woman.
I’m panting from my little dance, and I’m embarrassed by the show I just put on, until the woman smiles and approaches me.
“Every time I hear that song, it makes me want to dance too . . . Hi, I’m Sonia, Eric’s mom. And you are . . . ?”
His mother?
What’s his mother doing here?
I get my act together as best I can and push the hair from my face.
“Delighted to meet you. I’m Judith.”
She gives me a kiss on each cheek. Then she looks over at her son, who hasn’t said a word.
“And Judith is . . . ?” she asks as I put my shoes back on.
Eric is enjoying this.
“Mamá, she’s . . . Jude.”
“Oh, of course! How foolish of me!” she exclaims. “You’re Eric’s girlfriend.”
I’d been leaning on a little table to put on my shoe, but on hearing “girlfriend,” I tumble straight down to the floor.
Eric and his mother rush over.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes . . . yes . . . no worries. I just slipped, Mrs. . . .”
“Please, Jude, call me Sonia.”
“Of course, Sonia. I’m fine.”
Eric helps me up and pulls me to him.
“Are you all right, love?”
I blink and blush.
His girlfriend?
Did I just meet his mother, and did she just say I’m his girlfriend?
For the next half hour, I feel like I’m on cloud nine.
Sonia, Eric’s mom, is charming and chatty. Physically, she doesn’t look anything like him, but they do have the same classic taste in fashion. Her eyes are dark, like mine, and you can tell she’s a woman who takes care of herself.
“Are you all right?” Eric asks after she leaves to get ready for dinner.
“Eric, did your mother say I’m your girlfriend?”
“Yes.”
“How does she get to know before me?”
“You didn’t know you were my girlfriend?” he asks.
“No.”
“Are you sure, little girl? You’re really sure about that?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I thought I . . . I was your . . . your friend . . . your lover . . . your roll in the hay . . . your girl, the way you introduced me to some friends in Zahara. But your girlfriend?”
“Well, at Moroccio, you declared yourself Mrs. Zimmerman.”
“Yeah, but . . .”
“No ‘buts,’ Miss Flores. I’ve asked you to come live with me in Germany. I mentioned it to my mother, and she wanted to meet you.”
“What?”
“Love, when my mother insisted I return to Germany, I didn’t have a choice but to explain to her that there’s a beautiful Spanish girl who’s driving me crazy and whom I’m trying to convince to come live with me,” he whispers. “After that, she wanted to meet you, so here she is. I love you, you’re my girlfriend, and there’s nothing more to say.”
“What do you mean, ‘there’s nothing more to say’?”
Eric takes another step toward me.
“You don’t want to be my girlfriend?”
My heart beats wildly: I want everything with him, whatever he wants, but I decide to play with him a little. I take another step back.
“I don’t know, Eric . . . I don’t know if you and I . . .”
“You and I what?” he insists, stepping up again.
“Well, that . . . you and I are so different and . . .”
He realizes I’m playing and he likes it, but he keeps advancing.
“Do you remember our song?”
I smile when I remember Malú’s “Black and White.”
“Yes.”
“If you were as strict about things as me, I assure you, I never would have noticed you. I like who you are, how you act, how you challenge me, and, most of all, how you help me see life in color instead of just in black and white.”
I know I’m smiling as I listen to him.
“Well . . . Mr. Zimmerman, you’re very romantic. What’s happened to you?”
Eric steps up again. This time he shows me hi
s hand. He’s holding a little red-velvet box.
“Open it. It’s for you,” he whispers.
With trembling hands, I open the little box and discover a beautiful diamond ring. I’m speechless.
“Do you like it?”
“B-b-but . . . it’s too much, Eric. I don’t need this.”
He grins, pulls out the ring, and puts it on my finger.
“But I need to give it to you.”
As soon as I see it on my hand, I’m spellbound. It’s beautiful. A single, elegant diamond. Happy, I hug Eric around the neck.
“Thank you, love. It’s gorgeous.”
“You’re now officially my girlfriend.”
I kiss him passionately. With love. With surrender.
“Miss Flores,” he whispers when I pull back, “you’re very frisky.”
He touches my breasts through my dress.
He traps me against the wall, and I laugh. His mouth looks for mine.
“You drive me crazy . . .”
He kisses me. In his hands, as always happens, I melt and enjoy being his. Those hands travel all over my body, and when I gasp, he presses his rigid shaft against me and I gasp again. I’m ready. I want him to undress me. I want him to tear my panties off and do with me as he will.
“Control yourself, Miss Flores. Your mother-in-law could think you’re a sexual degenerate. C’mon . . . she’s waiting for us in the lobby.”
That makes me laugh—my mother-in-law! I’ve never had a mother-in-law.
“You’ll pay for that,” I say, taking his hand. “Just remember that.”
56
Eric’s mother turns out to be witty and enchanting.
During the meal, she laughs and jokes around constantly and makes me feel as if we’ve known each other our entire lives. She tells me stories about Eric when he was little; and horrified, he tries to temper her, though he’s also obviously delighted. I love watching him interact with her. It’s clear he loves her very much, and that makes me very happy.
When Eric’s cell buzzes, he gets up to take the call.
“Thank you,” Sonia says as soon as he’s out of earshot.
“For what?” I ask, surprised.
“For making my son smile. It’s been years since I’ve seen him so happy, and that makes me very grateful. I see how he looks at you, how you look at him, and it makes me want to get up and shout, ‘Finally! Finally, my son is letting someone love him!’”
“He’s been a tough nut to crack, I assure you of that!” I tell her, even as her words touch me.
“Oh, Jude . . . what I don’t understand is how a young woman with so much vim and vigor can stand him! Eric is so moody. Well . . . I’m sure you’ve noticed. When he gets something in his head, he just won’t stop.”
“Well, in that respect, I think he’s met his match,” I say, laughing.
I look over at Eric and notice he’s watching us from the back of the restaurant. I sigh as I check out his body. He’s so handsome in his dark pants and blue shirt. He winks at me from across the room, and I shudder. I want him with every inch of me.
“Jude, may I ask you a question?”
“Of course, Sonia.”
She quickly glances in her son’s direction. “What do you know about Eric?”
I think I know where she’s coming from. “If you mean Flyn, Betta, and his health condition, I know everything. He told me, and I still love him.”
Sonia takes my hand, and I can tell she’s making a great effort not to cry. She takes a sip of her wine.
“Eric deserves someone like you. Someone who loves and understands him.”
“He’s easy to love. He just has to let it happen.”
She lets me know she understands and leans in.
“That damned Betta made him suffer so much. Eric had a very difficult time, and I really thought I’d never see him find joy with a woman again. But you . . . I’m so delighted to see him happy that I’d spend all night saying ‘thank you.’”
I demur and take a sip of wine.
“Every time I think of the anguish he experienced, it makes me so upset. Finding his father in bed with his girlfriend, that was a terrible day, just terrible.”
“It’s OK, Sonia; it’s OK,” I say, squeezing her hand on seeing her getting all worked up.
Suddenly, I recognize the woman Eric is talking to. It’s the same young blonde with whom I saw him leave the office a few days ago. Sonia follows my line of vision.
“Oh my God,” she whispers, “what is she doing here?”
Eric takes the young woman by the hand and says something to her. She yanks away and heads toward our table. I have no idea who that woman is. All I see is the bewildered look on Eric’s face, and it alarms me.
“What are you doing here?” Sonia, now standing, says to the young woman.
Eric arrives at the same time, but the blonde doesn’t let him talk.
“Mamá, I don’t care that this stubborn jerk keeps putting me off. I’ve come to get him, and I have no intention of going back to Germany without him,” she declares.
“Love,” Eric says to me, “this is my sister Marta.”
The young blonde with the girlish face turns to me and grins.
“Hi, Jude . . . I’ve heard about you, not a lot, but it’s all good. You and I should talk about my stubborn brother.”
“Marta!” exclaims Eric.
“Oh, Eric, zip it. I’m pretty tired of you.”
“You two . . . don’t start,” Sonia says, imposing a motherly truce. I’m staring at Marta when Sonia explains, “Marta is my daughter from my second marriage.” Then she turns to Marta. “Judith is Eric’s girlfriend. Did you know?”
Eric rolls his eyes, and I laugh.
“His girlfriend?”
“Yes, my girlfriend,” insists Eric.
“How can you stand this grump?”
“Pure masochism,” I say, and they all laugh, including Eric.
We relax for a minute, but Marta has a mission, and she turns to her brother, giving no quarter. “Good, the introductions are out of the way,” she says. “Now when are you coming back to Germany, Eric? Mamá and I can’t deal with Flyn for much longer, and the nanny will strangle him any day now. That boy is going to be the death of us. And there’s also your surgery. You have to do it. I told you it’s imperative, to decrease the pressure in your eyes. Why don’t you come back so we can get it over with? I’m sure your girlfriend will understand your need to travel.”
I let her know by my expression that I’d of course understand. But the surgery is news to me. I didn’t know he has been putting it off to be with me.
“Why do you have such a big mouth, little sister?”
“Because I’d like to continue having a grump of a brother who can see my sour expression when I’m scolding him.”
“God, when you get in your doctor-patient mode, you really make me nervous.”
“Back at you—when you turn into a stubborn jerk. And just so you know, Flyn pulled another stunt at school yesterday.”
Eric sighs.
“Eric,” says Sonia, “you still don’t want to send him to boarding school? You know I love that boy, but his behavior . . .”
“Enough, Mamá!”
“Hey, don’t talk to her like that,” admonishes Marta.
Furious, Eric looks back and forth between his sister and his mother.
“I’m old enough to decide for Flyn and for me.”
“Perfect,” says Marta. “Then move your ass, get back to Germany, and take care of him. Because if you don’t, it’ll be Mamá and I who decide what to do about him.”
Eric lets loose with a string of profanities. The Iceman is back!
Then very quickly, the fight stops. I’m fascinated by how these three challenge one another with just a look. Finally, mother and daughter get up and leave.
Eric turns on his cell. “Tomás . . . my mother and sister are about to leave the restaurant. Take them to the hotel. We’
ll take a cab later.”
“I’m pretty mad at you,” I say as he ends the call.
“Listen, Jude, they’re right. I need to go back to Germany and deal with him, but I’m not going to stick him in a boarding school. Hannah would never forgive me, and I wouldn’t forgive myself. As for me, don’t worry. I’m at the top of the list of people who don’t want me to go blind, OK?”
The word “blind” makes me shudder.
And now once more, I’m aware that the man I adore has a terrible condition, and my anguish returns. I flinch, and when I breathe hard to keep my tears from falling, Eric takes my hand.
“Easy, sweetness . . . I’m fine.”
I nod, but I don’t say a word.
Eric tugs on me, and I get up and sit on his lap so I can hug him properly, without any concern about how people might look at us. I need to feel him next to me. I need to smell him. I need to have him, and more important, I need him to know he has me.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m calm. Eric pays, and we leave the restaurant in silence. We take a cab back to the hotel.
We stay quiet once we get to our suite. At first, I don’t have the energy to fight, and when we settle in, Eric takes my hand again.
“Listen, Jude . . .”
“No, you listen, you goddamned stubborn jerk. In terms of Flyn, whatever you decide is fine. He’s your nephew, and you know better than anyone what you need to do. But in terms of your condition, if you love me and you want us to continue, please do me the favor of going back to Germany and doing what you need to do.” My tears flow freely now. “You’ve officially made me your girlfriend, so I suggest you take care of yourself, because I love you and I want to spend many years with you. If you want, I’ll go with you. I’ll be there for as long as you need. But please, I need to know you’re OK. Because if something happens to you, I . . . I . . .”
Eric hugs me, and I crumble.
“I’m sorry, sweetness, I’m sorry.”
But I shove him off me.
“Go fuck yourself,” I say. Eric’s face is serious and desperate. “If you love me, be responsible and take care of yourself! That’s how you can show me you love me.”
“Come here, love.”
“No.”
“Please . . . come here.”