by Karina Halle
Wet blanket? Since when was I ever considered the wet blanket?
Beatriz smiled at me, coyly. “We didn’t think you would show up,” she said, her English practically fluent now. “Since you were with Mateo.”
Hold up. Her comment practically floored me. I had half a mind to storm over to the iPod dock and pause the music and ask her just what the hell she meant by that.
I suppose it was all too obvious on my face.
Antonio stopped to take a sip of his beer, his chest heaving from the activity, his mustache covered in droplets of sweat. He grinned at me. “It is all good.”
I frowned. “Nothing is good. What are you guys talking about?”
“Hey, we’re all here to have fun,” Ricardo said in such an easy, cheesy way that I had to wonder who the hell he was fucking while he was here.
That’s not why your company spent money to send you here, I thought. It’s not why we’re all talking all day long until our throats are raw.
Perhaps I was being a wet blanket. Usually Vera Miles was a warm, comfortable blanket—the purveyor of wet dreams. Now I was annoyed and irritated and slightly embarrassed.
“I have no idea what you guys are talking about,” I said staunchly.
Polly and Beatriz exchanged a look.
“It is fine, Vera,” Antonio tried to reassure me with his big grin. “No one cares. We’re all friends.” He went over to the iPod dock and turned it off. The silence sounded odd. “We should do some practice now, yes?”
No. I didn’t want to practice anymore. I wanted to talk about what they were all being so damn coy about.
“You know Mateo is married,” I told them, making sure to look them all in the eye. “We are just friends. That is possible between a man and a woman.”
“Okay,” Beatriz shrugged. “I couldn’t blame you though. He is a very charming man….very…exciting.” She said the last word like it was made of candy. Like she knew him on a level I had only suspected.
I had no choice but to ignore it. If I defended our relationship more, it would seem like I had something to hide. And I had nothing to hide except my feelings for him. They weren’t so important. They were something that I could keep locked deep inside and no one would ever have to see them—not him, not me, not anyone.
It was just a crush.
We managed to spend ten minutes going over our play once. I was just going through the motions, not even finding the humor in it. It was some stupid skit that Polly and Ricardo basically took over and wrote. It was slightly funny but overall just dumb, about an American mugger (played by me, of course) and the Spanish family traveling in America. I asked them to hand over their money, they heard something else, and that was that. In the end I got shot though, so at least I got to fake an epic death scene.
With beers in tow, my group headed off down toward the reception and up the rickety iron staircase to the large room where we had the party and every after dinner event since then. Everyone seemed to be a barrel of nerves, even the usually confident ones like Nerea and Eduardo.
We all sat down in the rows of fold-out chairs and waited for Jerry to call out our group’s names. First up was a group that Angel and Claudia were in, a spoof on Monty Python’s parrot sketch. Claudia did really well, even sporting a fake mustache that kept falling off, much to everyone’s delight. After that went two more groups and then my group was called.
By now I didn’t care how stupid we might look. Everyone was being supportive, even when things weren’t entertaining or funny. I went with my group to the front of the room. Mateo was in the front row, smiling at me. I gave him quick smile back, all too aware that my group was probably watching my interaction.
As we got ready and placed ourselves, Beatriz stuck a toque over my head for my part. Jerry had a basket full of props for us and by luck that could pass as a robber’s ski mask.
Of course when you pulled a toque down over your face, you couldn’t see anything. I had to act the whole skit blind, which was hilarious—to everyone else, especially when I was delivering muffled dialogue to the wall. I then fucked up on my cue to die, which had me stumbling a bit into the audience and falling on poor Angel. This was the second time this program that someone had fallen right into him, and the both of us went tumbling to the ground with a thump.
More laughter ensued and eventually mystery hands pulled me up off the floor and took the toque off my head. When I finally was able to see, I saw Angel being helped up by Antonio and I was in Mateo’s hands.
Everyone was laughing but in his eyes I saw genuine concern.
“Are you all right?” he asked, inspecting me closely. His hand went to my lower back and I nearly froze at the contact. I felt like everyone’s eyes were on me.
I told him I was fine and apologized to Angel before I went scampering to the back row to sit with my group. Luckily, no one said anything about the fact that I nearly took out the entire first row of the audience. Or anything other than that.
As the next group went up, I tried to gain control of my racing heart. I felt totally out of sorts and I was ready for this day to be over. I hated that there really was nothing going on between Mateo and I, yet I was spooked and acting like there was. It didn’t help that people were fucking commenting on it, like it was so damn obvious. There was nothing to be obvious about.
I buried my head in my hands. I needed to get a grip. I really would have thought my crush would have worn itself off after a week but it was only growing, like a bloodthirsty monster and now it was crawling out of my head and heart and taking swipes at other people, letting them know it existed.
“Are you okay?” I heard Beatriz say from beside me, putting a light hand on my shoulder. “Did you get hurt?”
Not yet, I thought. But I will.
I looked up at her and managed a weak smile. “I’m fine. Just tired.” I liked Beatriz enough but I didn’t want to discuss anything personal with her. That said, it did get me thinking that I should discuss something with someone. I’d talked to Josh briefly on the phone already and I’d been back and forth with Jocelyn on Facebook but the way the computers were set-up, I felt like I couldn’t really type anything without people looking over my shoulder. There was always my phone, but I spent a gazillion dollars already on receiving that phone call from Josh.
Claudia or Becca. I needed to talk to one of them. They would understand. Becca was probably head over heels for someone, given her track record, and I could have sworn something was going on with Claudia and Eduardo.
I laughed internally, thinking how unlike me it was to seek council on a guy, let alone have actual feelings for them. That was not my style. Then again, none of this was. The minute I stepped on that bus, everything I knew about myself seemed to be left behind in Madrid.
Chapter Nine
The next day—day seven of the program—was the first rainy day of the program and the end of the first official week. Only two people had been scheduled just for one week, Yolanda and Enrique, so two more Spaniards were supposed to join us after they left on the morning bus back home.
It was weird to see Las Palabras under a thick layer of soot-colored cloud, to have shallow puddles at your feet. It dampened everything and put my thoughts on a melancholy spin. For the first time, I kind of missed home. Well, actually that was an exaggeration. I didn’t miss home, the rain just reminded me of home. Home meant a place where I couldn’t be myself, where I had to walk on eggshells around my mother. But I missed Josh. And there was part of me that missed being free from…emotional turmoil. Was that the right word? How about sexual frustration and the threat of impending heartache? I couldn’t tell. The rain had dampened my mood.
I had a mostly Mateo-free day—I didn’t have any sessions with him and I didn’t sit with him at any of the meals. Jerry had started cracking down on groups, noticing that the same people kept sitting together and insisted we all start rotating. It was fine with me, except lunch time had me sitting with Tyler, who I realized had
some kind of thing with Lauren. I couldn’t really figure out his sexuality—his “Vote for Hilary” shirt and My Little Pony obsession didn’t help—but I knew he and her shared very similar disdain for me.
After lunch, which pretty much consisted of shoving ham in my mouth and getting the fuck out of there, two more Spaniards arrived—Mario the small business owner and Alfonso the financial consultant—and we all welcomed them in. It couldn’t have been easy coming into a program a week in, when everyone already seemed extremely close and cliquey. The passage of time only made me realize that Mateo would be gone in two weeks.
The tiniest part of me felt relief at that, that I could just be me, have fun, and not have my feelings occupied by another. But the larger part, the one that consisted of my skin and bones, it felt sunken in at the thought, eaten away. I felt like my life without him would definitely start lacking vitality, that the spring in my step would disappear, that the butterflies in my stomach would vanish. That I wouldn’t feel…whole.
And that was such a fucked up feeling.
I tried to find Claudia or Becca after dinner. I needed to speak to them. The wine, which I had grown to love, was coursing through my veins, making my mouth loose and my heart pound. I wanted to tell them, to just get it off my chest, to feel like I wasn’t crazy, that I wasn’t a terrible person for crushing on a married man, that I wasn’t a villain.
I ended up finding Mateo instead. There were a group of people outside on the patio, sitting on the wicker chairs and playing cards. The extracurricular activities were called off for the night because the plays had taken so much planning, so the bar was open and everyone was pretty much free to their own devices.
Mateo was there, laughing loudly with Wayne. Both of their cheeks were spotted with red. They were drunk already, and I remembered during dinner that both of them had gone around to all the tables and collected the bottles of wine that weren’t empty, like hooligans at a wedding reception.
Angel, Sammy, Becca, Eduardo, Manuel, Ricardo, Polly and Froggy Carlos were all there, drinks in hand. The rain had stopped and the air had turned wet with humidity rising off of the grass. The sky was growing clearer by the moment, the clouds skirting past the bright gibbous moon.
“Vera!” Wayne shouted at me. “You Canadians play soccer, right?”
I couldn’t help but eye Mateo with suspicion. “Yes, some do. Why?”
“We’re going to have a soccer match next week, the Anglos versus the Spaniards.” He jerked a fat thumb at Mateo. “I’m going to pretend to be a Spaniard, just to be on his team.”
I pulled up a wicker chair and hunkered down. “Sounds like fun, but count me out.”
“Aw, come on Vera,” Sammy complained loudly. “If I’m doing it, you’re doing it. Your legs are so much longer than mine.”
That may have been true but having longer legs just meant more opportunities to trip over them.
“Your legs are as long,” Froggy Carlos said to her with a lusty wink, “if you play with those sexy heels on.”
Sammy laughed and squealed at his remark and I had to keep myself from rolling my eyes. I very briefly caught Mateo’s gaze.
He got up and stopped by my chair, resting his fingertips on my shoulder. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”
“I just sat down,” I moaned.
“You have to work for it.”
I wanted to say no. But I couldn’t. I looked up at him, at his dark, glittering eyes and felt myself rise out of my seat and follow him into the bar. I guessed talking to Claudia or Becca could wait another day. It was a nice idea, anyway.
We walked past a few people who were on the computers and over to the bar. I leaned against it, my fingers resting on the cool copper top while Mateo ordered us two beers. His body was pressed right to the side of mine and I could feel the heat between us, the firmness of his waist and hips against me.
Deep breaths, I told myself.
“Did you think you’d get away with it?” he asked in a low, gravelly voice.
Shit. What now?
I swallowed and looked up at him reluctantly. His face was so close, I knew he could count the freckles that had sprouted over on my nose over the last week. His scent teased me, making me feel gooey inside, a melting pot of tingling lust.
“Get away with what?” I whispered.
He gave me a slow, sexy smile. “The day is almost over and I have not asked you my question.”
Oh. That. Oh, god, seriously? After what happened yesterday?
“I promise it will be more…fun,” he said, reading me. He was good at that.
“Fine,” I said, pretending I wasn’t thrilled that he had sought me out to ask me something. That it didn’t make me all kinds of floating on the clouds happy that he had been thinking about me.
While he paid for our drinks—I’d barely added any to my tab since I got there—I leaned in closer to him, taking advantage of the moment. Tonight he was wearing a black silk shirt and black pants that fit his body perfectly. That panther analogy I had a while ago, well, that was back in full swing. He was sleek, dark and dripping with slinky self-assurance.
“You did a great job last night,” I told him. “Your skit was the funniest.”
Mateo’s group ended up being all male, so they decided to do a faux Miss Spain contest. Which meant they all dressed up in drag. Mateo, was, by far, the most masculine of them all, even with a blonde wig, lipstick and a feather boa.
“Did you think I made an attractive woman?” he asked, handing me my beer.
I thanked him for it and then said, “No. You were the hairiest woman I have ever seen.”
He gave me a crooked smile and clinked the neck of his beer against mine. “I don’t think I could handle being a woman. You are far too…complicated.”
“We are?” I asked dubiously.
He nodded and put his hand on the small of my back, something he’d been doing more and more. I felt myself momentarily melt into him before I straightened up and let him lead me out of the bar and outside. Instead of stopping by the drinking game that was now taking place, he kept his hand there and took us out toward the path that sloped between the cottages.
The night now was dark, the stars clear and shining. I put my head back and could see Draco, Arcturus and Ursa Major, strings of diamonds in this velvet night.
“I was hoping we would see the stars tonight,” Mateo said. “Come, let us get away from the lights.”
Get away from the lights? Why?
My body shivered with the unknown and I immediately started to have a minor freakout in my head. What if Mateo wanted to kiss me? What would I do? I mean I couldn’t kiss him back, it would be wrong. But fuck if it would feel anything but right.
I was never very good at any battles that pit my body against my mind. My body almost always won.
He took me away from the patio, where Angel was drunkenly yelling “shithead!” during the drinking game, and over toward my cottage. For a split second I thought he was going to take me upstairs, to my room, to my bed, but he pulled me to a stop beside the low stone wall and patted the top of it with his hand.
I couldn’t tell if I was relieved or disappointed. Either way, it was for the best. From the light upstairs I could see Sara was home and spotted the shadows of Jorge and his roommate in the level below. Nothing was ever secret here.
I gingerly hopped up onto the wall and he sat down right beside me, his long, soccer-player legs dangling over the side. He swung them, the backs of his heels gently hitting the wall. I’d forgotten he was a little bit drunk.
“So how was your first week?” he asked me before taking a swig of his beer.
“Good,” I said, so utterly conscious of how close we were sitting, our thighs touching each other. Every time his leg swung, it shook mine. “Yours?”
“I am tired of talking,” he said. “My throat hurts. I have been having honey tea before I go to bed every night, like an old man.”
I nudged him playfully with
my elbow. “You are an old man.”
He nudged me right back. “This is a new thing.”
I tilted my head and eyed him curiously. “What is?”
“You, touching me,” he said.
“Touching you?”
“Yes,” he said earnestly. “Like you touch everyone else.”
I felt my cheeks flush but I still had no idea what he was talking about.
“Angel, Eduardo, Ricardo,” he listed off. “You touch them, kiss them, hello and goodbye and when they make you laugh. Like this.” He placed his large hand on my thigh. My eyes widened in response. I couldn’t move. “Or like this,” he said as he put the same hand on my shoulder. His warmth seared through my bare shoulders, spreading throughout my body.
Oh, Jesus.
I sucked in a breath and tried to keep my voice steady. “I do that to everyone. That’s just how I am. It’s automatic.” Honestly, I don’t even realize it half the time, but I’m often touching someone if they’re close to me, man or woman, young or old.
He had a sip of his beer and looked down at the bottle in his hands. “You do not touch me.”
So, he noticed.
“Well…you’re married,” I said unevenly, wishing my heart would slow the fuck down, feeling completely exposed even in the dark of night.
“And so are many of them.”
“It would be inappropriate…”
“How do you know? Is this inappropriate?”
He took his hand and every so slowly, ever so gently, brushed a strand of loose hair from my face, tucking it behind my ears. His fingertips felt like whispers, telling my skin secrets. I closed my eyes at the touch, feeling it travel down my spine, bathing me in starshine.
I couldn’t remember how to speak. I felt like I was on beautiful drugs, the shivery feel of warm sun on a cold day. “No,” I managed to say, my voice no more than a wisp. I could practically see it float away.
“Then you do it to me,” he said, his voice even lower. “And let me decide.”
I opened my eyes and stared at him in trepidation. His features were so dark and mysterious in the shadow of the moon, the tension between us mounting.