Keep This Promise

by Willow Winters

  In the end, I had more at stake. I just had to get her to see that.

  Things moved fast. As soon as I had made up my mind, I told Mateo. The joy I heard in his voice only added to the joy in my heart. I was so excited and nervous but so fucking happy. It felt good. It felt real. It felt like the right thing to do. He bought me a ticket on Iberia Airlines, flying from Vancouver to New York to Madrid on August 25th.

  Naturally I had to tell Claudia. She was totally excited, pretty much as excited as I was. That felt good, to be missed, to be wanted. I started feeling like maybe I was going to be able to build a new life there after all.

  A new universe.

  I called Jocelyn too, to let her know. I wasn’t sure how she was going to react, maybe call me crazy. I had been writing her all about Mateo, and when she came to visit Vancouver after I had just returned from Spain, she got a teary earful about how doomed our relationship was. She’d never seen me that way and I think I scared her all the way back to Saskatchewan. But she took the news of me moving to Spain surprisingly well, with no judging on her behalf.

  “Do what makes you happy,” she said lightly.

  “Doing Mateo made me happy,” I joked.

  She sighed. “Such a romantic name. Mateo Casalles. Vera Casalles sounds good too. You sound like a Spanish queen.”

  I flinched at the mention of Spanish royalty. “Well, no one is getting married here.”

  “No, I suppose not,” she said. “You’re only twenty-three and have your whole life ahead of you, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he never wanted to get married ever again, or even have kids.”

  Ouch, that hurt. Did I mention that Jocelyn could be really blunt?

  “I meant that more as in we don’t really know each other that well and should probably live together for a while first before that happens. Or, you know, what you just said.”

  “Oh. Sorry, Vera. But, I mean, you should probably keep that in mind when you get there. I totally support the move to Spain for your true love kind of notion, even though I won’t see you as often, but try and keep your heart protected, too.”

  Didn’t she know it was way too late for that?

  After I told her, I knew it was only a matter of time before it would pop up on my Facebook or it would slip out somehow. It was time to tell my mother.

  Unfortunately, I picked a day that Mercy was over. She and my mom were in the kitchen, baking dinner together. Josh had picked up extra shifts that week and happened to be home, so if I wanted his support, I was going to have to jump on it.

  My chest felt like it was filled with cement. Ugh. This was going to suck so badly.

  I went to Josh’s room and gave him a look. “It’s time.”

  He nodded and came out to join me, and we walked down the hall. You’d think I was going to war.

  We went into the kitchen. Mom was sipping her wine and peering at Mercy over her glasses. Mercy was wearing a stylish apron that she must have brought from her apartment, her hair pulled back in one of those effortless topknots that makes me look like I have an animal on my head when I try to do it. She was grating a block of parmesan into a bowl, gluten-free lasagna being assembled in a pan beside it.

  I stopped on the other side of the island and cleared my throat until they looked at me and Josh.

  “What is it, sweetie?” My mother asked.

  Oh, she wasn’t going to be calling me sweetie in a minute.

  I looked up at Josh. He nodded at me encouragingly.

  I felt so sick, like I’d eaten a pile of nerves and they were sitting at the bottom of my stomach, wriggling around.

  “I have something I need to tell you,” I said, my voice no louder than a whisper.

  Mercy put the cheese down and cocked her head quizzically.

  I was afraid to look them in the eyes, so I looked at the island instead. I cleared my throat. “I’ve decided to move to Spain.”

  There was silence. I risked it and looked up.

  My mother cocked a brow. “Okay. Well, I guess we can discuss this.”

  Mercy looked at her, appraising her expression. She sucked on her teeth and said, “Sure, Vera. I could see you were really happy there.”

  “You’re going to have to start working more,” my mother said. “And you can’t let it interfere with your studies.”

  “I saved up a lot of money in a year,” Mercy said. “It’s hard, but it’s doable.”

  “When did you want to go?” my mother asked. “Next fall? I don’t think you could make next summer work. You’ve got Mercy’s wedding and everything.”

  “Yeah, my wedding.”

  Ooh, boy.

  I felt Josh nudge me.

  I gulped. “I’m going next week.”

  Mercy dropped the cheese grater. It landed with a clatter that echoed through the kitchen.

  “What?” my mother hissed.

  “You’re joking,” said Mercy, shaking her head. She looked at Josh. “What’s wrong with her? Is this a joke?”

  “No,” Josh said. “I had nothing to do with it, but I’m here for support.”

  Thanks, Josh, I thought angrily. Well, it was too late now. They were already freaking out. I wondered how long I could keep Mateo a secret, my whole reason for going.

  “You aren’t going,” my mother said, putting down the wine glass. “You have school. Jesus, Vera. Use your brain. Sometimes I wonder about you and your flights of fancy.”

  “I’m not going to school this year.”

  “Like hell you aren’t,” she growled, really starting to get mad.

  “I’m taking a year off. Or maybe two. Maybe I’ll go to university in Madrid. I’m sure—”

  “Are you on drugs again?” Mercy asked, folding her arms together in a huff, her lip curled up like somehow this was affecting her life in some way.

  I glared at her. “No. I’m not on drugs. I’m just going to Spain.”

  “Well, you can’t and you aren’t,” my mother said with finality. “Wait till your father hears about this.”

  “Right. Why is it that you always call dad when something wrong has happened, but never with something right?”

  “Because things never go right with you,” my mother sniped.

  Ouch. Okay, don’t cry, don’t cry, I told myself. She had a wicked tongue and I knew this going in.

  “Mom,” Josh warned her.

  “I’m disappointed in you, Joshua,” she said, her voice taking on that icy competitive realtor tone that she was really, really good at. “You’re actually supporting her decision?”

  He gulped but nodded. “Yes. She’s an adult, she can do whatever she wants.”

  “No,” Mercy interjected. “She can’t. She’s in school that’s paid for by mom and dad. She barely makes any money at her shit job. She can’t get to Spain even if she started turning tricks.” At that she gave me a pointed look, as if that was a possibility.

  “I already have a plane ticket,” I said, and I knew once I said it that the can of worms was going to turn into a bucket of snakes. There were all coming out, unstoppable.

  “How the hell did you get a plane ticket?” my mother asked. She shot Mercy a nervous look, as if Mercy had been right.

  “It was bought for me.”

  “By whom?” she demanded.

  “By the man I’m in love with.”

  Silence. I could hear the fridge motor kick on. Somewhere outside a dog barked. The blood inside me was pulsing loudly.

  My mother looked truly confused. “What man?”

  Suddenly Mercy shrieked, “Oh my god!” and put her hands over her mouth.

  She figured it out.

  “What?” my mom asked again. “What am I missing here?”

  “The soccer player!” Mercy yelled. She pointed at me, jabbing her finger in the air. “You’re in love with the soccer player!”

  I could see my mother mouth, “Soccer player?” out of the corner of my eye but all my focus was on Mercy as the disgusted look came into her eye
s.

  “Vera, he’s married!” she yelled. “Oh my god, you were with a married man?”

  “What?!” my mother screeched loudly.

  “He’s getting a divorce,” I said feebly, as if that would help. It wouldn’t. The damage was done.

  “Oh my god, Vera,” my mother said, putting her hand to her head like she was going to faint. Her face had gone pale. “Vera, you stupid idiot. What is wrong with you? What is wrong with you?”

  “I’m not an idiot,” I retorted helplessly.

  “You had an affair with a married man!” Mercy was beside herself. She kept shaking her head, flapping her hands. “I can’t even…I can’t.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like that.”

  “Oh, sure it’s not. We all know what you’re like. Can’t shut your legs for one moment, can you?”

  “Shut up, Mercy,” Josh sneered.

  “Vera,” my mother whispered, holding on to the edge of the island. “Please tell me this is all a joke.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not. He’s flying me to Spain. I’m going to live with him. I love him.” She gasped. I continued. “It’s not a joke, it’s just life and it’s happening.”

  “You’re such a slut,” Mercy said, practically spitting at me. “After what Dad did to Mom? After the mess you both became? What about me? I’m getting married next year, married, and you’re such a selfish whorish brat that you go and take up with a fucking married man, some Spanish scum, and you think you’re so cool about it?”

  I couldn’t breathe. My face turned red, hot, tight. I felt a panic attack coming on, anchoring me in a terrible state of paralysis. I was afraid if I did move, I was going to punch my sister right in her self-righteous face.

  “Hey, why don’t we all calm down here,” Josh said commandingly, raising his hands.

  “Oh fuck off, Josh,” Mercy said. “You’re getting in the way and this has nothing to do with you.”

  I didn’t care anymore if Josh did go. I couldn’t get any more hurt than I already was. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but damn, I didn’t think their words would be so vicious, so hateful.

  “Vera Elizabeth Miles,” my mother said, her tone suddenly hard. I eyed her wearily, suddenly afraid again. I did not like that tone, the dead tone of indifference and disappointment.

  She breathed in sharply through her nose. “If you leave this house, if you forgo your studies, you will never get a dime from me for tuition. And you will never be allowed back in this house.”

  “Mom!” Josh yelled at her. “Are you crazy?”

  “Oh shut up, Joshua,” she snapped, eyes flashing. “I expected more from you. Instead, you’re supporting your sister during her most idiotic move ever.”

  Okay. Apparently I could get more hurt. My insides twisted around, the pain physical, as if my whole body was under fire. But she couldn’t be serious, could she? She was just overheated, overreacting because of what happened with her and Dad and Jude, right?

  I swallowed painfully and stared at her. She stared right back at me. There was no love in her eyes.

  “Do you hear me?” she went on, her expression made of ice. “If you walk out that door next week, you aren’t allowed back here. You’ll get no help with school. You’ll be totally on your own. And don’t even think your dad will help you either, because he won’t. You understand? If you’re going to be a damn homewrecker, throwing away your future for a man who can’t keep it in his pants, then you are going to suffer the consequences. These kinds of things do not go unpunished in life. Hope you learn from this, sweetie.”

  The sweetie part was a killer. Tears came to my eyes, the front of my face feeling hot and tight. I nodded, able to keep them at bay, and turned around, walking quickly back to my room, my heart in my throat, my lungs deprived of air.

  I shut the door behind me and stood there for a few minutes, trying to absorb what had just happened, trying to hold my body together. It felt as if it would come falling apart at any moment.

  I was risking the chance at a new life on uncertainty, and the only thing that was certain was that if I ever returned, I’d come back to no life at all.

  I collapsed to the floor.

  I had made my choice.

  Part Three

  Madrid

  Chapter 22

  “Shame on us, doomed from the start. May god have mercy on our dirty little hearts,” Trent Reznor sang softly in my ear. I don’t know what it is about listening to music 35,000 feet in the air, staring out the window at just clouds and rounded horizons, but life seems so much more profound. So fleeting. Maybe it was because at any moment you could plummet to your death. Maybe because it made you realize how small your life really was and the music was the soundtrack to your epiphany.

  Or maybe it was because you were listening to a depressing and intensely relatable song. I sighed and skipped to the next one just as the seatbelt signs came on and the pilot announced our descent into the Madrid-Barajas Airport.

  I didn’t need to buckle my belt—I never took that shit off when flying—so I rested my head against the wall, staring out the window as the clouds came up to meet the plane. I was having immense déjà vu, which made sense since I had landed in London back in late May with the same misfiring nerves coursing through my system. But there was more than just buzzing nerves this time: my entire heart, soul, and life was on the line.

  The last week in Vancouver had been as miserable as you could imagine. My mother wouldn’t even look at me, and I never saw Mercy again after that. Josh was my saving grace. He was the buffer between me and the world of disappointment and hate. He made me feel loved when others didn’t.

  I was extremely busy as well, trying to figure out if I needed to apply for a permit to work and stay in Spain for longer than normal. Because I was Canadian, working in Spain would be a fairly easy process but it was something I would have to deal with later. The most important thing was for me to just get there.

  Naturally, my mother did talk to my father, and he didn’t sound too impressed with me either. He thought I was making a mistake. But he did say that if I ever came back home, I could live with him in Calgary. I really hoped it didn’t come to that, but it was nice to know it was there.

  I didn’t want to think about that, about returning to Canada with my tail between my legs. My mind kept going to the “what ifs” all throughout the flight. What if Mateo’s friends and family hated me? What if the spark had died while I was away? What if he decided to reconcile with his wife for the sake of their daughter? What if he had forgotten how to love me—or realized he never loved me to begin with?

  I was still so caught up in the questions and the lack of sleep that I didn’t even flinch when we came upon horrid turbulence upon our arrival. The man next to me was gripping his seat rest until his knuckles were chalk white, his body rigid, and yet my only fear was losing love.

  Soon we landed, and while everyone looked relieved to be alive, jonesing to get off the plane, I was stuck to my seat, strapped down by fear. Suddenly, I couldn’t do it. Suddenly, I realized what a giant leap I had just taken, something so ballsy and slightly irresponsible. That wasn’t just my mother talking in my head, that was me, that was the me that feared she may have risked everything on a huge mistake. I had five hundred Canadian dollars in my bank account, and no way to get back home if something went wrong. As the flight attendant came down the aisle and asked me if I needed assistance getting off the plane, I asked, “Is there any way I can just stay on this plane and have it take me back home?” She laughed politely then shot me dagger eyes that told me to get my ass up.

  I walked through the airport as if in slow-motion, everything so familiar and yet foreign. It was nice to hear Spanish being spoken again, and though it filled me with trepidation because, of course, I didn’t speak Spanish, and unlike Las Palabras, English wouldn’t cut it, it made me feel alive again. It was a kick in the pants of “Hey, I made it, I’m here.”

  I just
wished I wasn’t so damn afraid. Mateo had said he’d meet me at baggage claim, and I was actually a nervous wreck about seeing him. Would he look different? Did I look different? Was this going to be passionate? Awkward? Was I going to cry?

  Would he still feel something for me?

  I felt as if I was going to be sick. After I went through customs, I ducked into the bathroom and sat down in the stall, breathing in and out, trying to keep my nerves from bouncing like a rubber ball. I counted down to ten, did my makeup in the mirror, making sure I didn’t look like a jet-lagged mess. I looked normal…a bit wide-eyed but normal. I was wearing a long-sleeved dress that covered up my tats, just wanting to look more presentable when I flew, my hair pulled back into a braid.

  Okay. Time to do this.

  I walked out of the bathroom and headed for my carousel, my eyes darting around the busy area, looking for a tall handsome Spanish man. I didn’t see him. After what seemed like forever, my bags finally appeared—I had a large suitcase that Josh had given me and the backpack I had gone traveling with. I was moving my whole life over, after all, and was amazed everything could fit in those two bags. Everything else I had to leave behind, Josh promising he would take care of it and not let mom throw everything out. Not that she would, but considering her tendency to overreact, I wouldn’t put it past her.

  I put the bags on one of the luggage carts and looked around. I hated feeling like he was somewhere watching me when I couldn’t see him.

  After five minutes though, I was really starting to panic. What if he never came for me at all?

  “Are you Vera?” I heard a soft voice beside me say.

  I turned to see a girl who was at least model height, all willowy limbs, with long, thick brown hair and greenish eyes. She was wearing a loose strappy tank in a metallic green that showed off her tanned skin, and those Hammer pants that made everyone except women like her look like they had saggy diaper butt.

  “Yes,” I said, smiling uncertainly.

  “I’m Lucia,” she said, showing me a great flash of white teeth. She thrust out her hand. “I’m Mateo’s sister.”