Boy For Rent

by Mayte Esteban

  “So it went well?” his friend asks.

  “It was incredible!” Javier is going to start in on the story he spent the night crafting, but suddenly he realizes that he doesn’t remember half of it. Partly because of this, and partly out of loyalty to his friend, he ends up confessing. “No, actually it was a disaster of a date. It couldn’t have gone worse.”

  “What happened?”

  “The girl was rude. She yelled at me all night, got into a traffic accident, and then tried to confuse me by being nice. Then she changed strategy, and went back to being rude. In the end I think I crossed the line a little, but she wasn’t far behind. And there’s something even worse...”

  “What can be worse than all that?” asks Ángel.

  “That I’ll have to spend the rest of the year avoiding her. I think we’re in the same class!”

  “And she didn’t recognize you?”

  “I didn’t recognize her either at first! I spend half the time in the bar, but if she were spectacularly good-looking she would have caught my eye. But she’s just normal. Pretty, but let’s not exaggerate. I hope she doesn’t tell anyone that I work doing this!”

  “Don’t worry,” says Ángel with certainty. “If I were her, I would take good care to let no one know I’d gone out with you. And much less paid for it!”

  “Man, that’s a low blow! I’m not such a bad catch.” Javier looks in the mirror, which reflects the image of an overgrown teenager. “And not too bad-looking either!”

  “No, maybe now you’ve improved a bit, but you’re still the same idiot as always.”

  He doesn’t tell Ángel that they kissed. Nor that he has her telephone and is thinking of dropping by her house that very afternoon to return it. He wants to see her. His lack of sleep isn’t only because he’s been inventing stories. He’s been thinking of her. Paula and her bad humor. Paula and her fears. Paula and that pink dress. Paula and her kisses... She would never believe that she’s his first. Nothing happened with that girl in high school, although he’s never taken the trouble of correcting Ángel’s error. Better that he keep thinking that Javier got with her. Anyway, it’s only one more lie. The boys he hangs out with from class always laugh on Mondays at the stories he tells them. In class he seems a lot more sure of himself. His friends see him as a ladies’ man and don’t even suspect he’s inventing. The stories are clear and he always tells them with the few details gentlemen would keep to themselves. What they don’t know is that he’s telling them Ángel’s triumphs, simply swapping out the main character. He’s decided. He’ll go see her.

  When he leaves Ángel’s house he calls himself using Paula’s telephone. He’s not sure that she’s going to give him her number voluntarily. One never knows with her. Then her phone begins to ring. It’s not that the song itself is so bad. The problem is the volume and that it starts in the middle, making him jump. The number calling is a landline. It’s Paula herself, going crazy looking for her phone, but Javier doesn’t know that and hangs up. He stores the phone in his pocket and gets on his motorbike, praying that it won’t ring again.

  * * *

  Paula hangs up, annoyed. She didn’t need a cell phone, she’d told Marta and Raquel a thousand times, and had gone without one until her mother had heard about her foolishness and made her carry one to keep tabs on her. Now, three years after her arm had been twisted, she can’t do without it. She keeps her favorite music in it, along with the phone numbers of friends, birthdays, exam dates, photos of nights out... the photos! They’re personal. She doesn’t want anyone to see them. There’s nothing strange in them, except for Marta, Raquel, and herself acting silly, but if they’re not posted on Facebook or Tuenti it’s because they’re private. They’re moments she doesn’t want to share with strangers. And now she has no idea whose hands they’re in. How could she have been so stupid! She thinks and thinks and can’t remember where she could have left the phone. That’s it! It must have been her brother Raúl, who wants to blackmail her. Definitely. He must have taken it when she got back last night. The truth is that yesterday was very strange. When she came into the house she felt like she was floating. Now she can’t stop thinking of Javier and that stolen kiss in the taxi. She doesn’t know why she did it. Maybe if she’d thought a little... But why had she kissed him? An impulse, is what it was. And she’d liked it more than she’d expected. But Javier was an idiot!

  She’s going to track down Raúl once and for all. As soon as she has the phone in her hands, she won’t have to fear that he’ll find something he shouldn’t. That boy is a moron. She doesn’t understand how the genetic laws could have rewarded her with such different brothers.

  * * *

  Javier is standing at Paula’s door. Twice he’s tried to ring the bell, and twice his hand has pulled back, stopped by a strange feeling of fear. It’s not such a big deal, he’s just going to return her phone. He brings his hand close again, and just at that moment the phone begins to ring. Damn that little song! His heart is going so fast he feels he’s on the verge of cardiac arrest. How can he make that piece of junk stop?

  * * *

  It’s not possible! She’s hearing her ringtone, a song by Quinta Estación. What’s strange is that she hasn’t heard it until that moment, even though she’s called it dozens of times. Where can it be coming from? She leaves the landline on the table at the entrance and moves toward the kitchen. Now it’s more faint. She returns to the entrance and listens to the melody again. Can it be coming from the other side of the door, in the street? Unlikely, but she opens just in case.

  “Hi!” It’s him. Javier is standing at the door.

  “Hi.” A strange hello escapes her. Her embarrassment is obvious even in that one syllable.

  “I’ve come to bring you this. You left it in the bar where we had coffee. I grabbed it and then forgot to return it to you.”

  “Bring!” What an idiot she was! What was she saying?

  “Here you go. I’m sorry.” He turns around to go. He doesn’t know what to say to prolong the conversation further. By the tone of her response, he’s sure that she wants him out of sight.

  “Did you...?” Paula doesn’t finish the question.

  “Don’t worry, I didn’t call anyone. I didn’t even answer the calls you received, and there have been a lot.”

  “It was me!”

  “I don’t think so. At least three different numbers called.”

  “Thank you.” She doesn’t want to be rude, but that “thank you” is just as dry as everything else she’s said.

  They remain standing there, on different sides of the door, hesitating between saying a polite goodbye and daring to take a step. Why is it so difficult?

  “Goodbye, Paula.” She doesn’t even answer.

  Javier, after hesitating, starts to go down the steps. He turns around a moment, and all he sees is a closed door. Yet again. Just this once he would have liked for the story to have had a different ending.

  * * *

  Why didn’t you do anything to stop him from going? Paula reproaches herself for being so slow on the draw. She isn’t used to dealing with boys. She’s not good at it. Every time Marta and Raquel go out, they end up getting with someone, even if the stories don’t go beyond that night and a few stolen kisses in the shadows of a bar. But it never happens that way for Paula. She gets nervous and doesn’t know what to do. Until then it hasn’t mattered to her much. When she went out with Álex, her only boyfriend, he eventually left her out of boredom. It hadn’t been what she’d expected either. She’d gone out with Álex because at the time she’d thought it was what she should do, not because she was crazy for him. She’d spent two months inventing excuses to keep their dates short. After that she hadn’t tried again. Paula hasn’t liked any boy enough to put her fears aside. But she likes Javier. She doesn’t know why, but that boy is like a magnet for her. And it’s completely irrational. The boy isn’t very attractive, and they don’t get along. She has to forget the previous night. To Jav
ier, she was probably just a job.

  “Would you like to tell me what you’ve done to the car?”

  Her mother’s screech pulls her out of her thoughts. Paula’s still standing in the entrance, staring at where Javier had been, and when she turns to try to go back in, her mother cuts off the path to her room. She’s going to have to explain the little accident eventually, but her mother’s tone this morning suggests that now is not the time for reason. She tries to give her the slip as best she can, but her mother follows her down the hall with reproaches. Mario called to tell her. What kind of father does she have, anyway? Paula thinks. The wedding night just ended. What on earth was he doing calling his ex? If she were the new wife that would definitely make her angry. Paula manages to reach her room just in time to shut the door, cutting off the yelling on the other side.

  * * *

  Monday at the university, Ana is filled in on nearly all the details of the disastrous Friday evening, except the most important, that she already knows the mystery boy, at least by sight. Paula doesn’t say a word about what happened Saturday morning.

  “And why did he kiss you?”

  “Who knows! I think he was taking revenge. Although I paid him back with the same coin. If you could have seen his face when I kissed him in the taxi! If I see him again I’ll give him another punch, seriously. He makes me nervous!”

  “When did you hit him?”

  “No, not literally...” She’s nearly let out that it’s the class clown.

  “But you went a bit overboard yourself...”

  “It’s true, I didn’t behave myself too well. I treated him like he was my exclusive property, a toy of mine, which I shouldn’t have done.”

  “And why did he give you that attack of jealousy?

  “That’s just the thing, I don’t know why. It’s what I can least explain to myself.”

  “And are you sure he wasn’t really handsome?” Ana is curious about everything.

  “No, he wasn’t really handsome. But there was something special about him.”

  “Have you gotten your phone back?”

  “Yes, I have it now. Lucky thing too! I couldn’t have survived without my appointment book.”

  “Where did you leave it?”

  “In the car,” she lies. “The phone was at the auto shop.”

  Why doesn’t she dare tell Ana? She wants to let it out, to say that the night had changed something in her. She wants to share with her friend that she’s fallen in love, but she can’t. She’d have to confess that it’s with Javier, who sits behind them in class, and for sure Ana would think she’s gone completely mad. Paula even thinks the same thing herself. But she supposes that love is a kind of madness. Something irrational proceeding from the heart, not the head.

  * * *

  Javier sees her. He hides himself behind his friends from class to go unnoticed. The idea terrifies him that she might see him and say something, but on the other hand he needs to talk to her. Although, on second thought, on Saturday morning she hadn’t been very nice. Maybe he should just let it go. He should forget her kisses. Even if they were the best thing that’s happened to him in a long time. If it weren’t madness, he might think that he was falling in love.

  * * *

  “My friends and I were thinking of going on Saturday to that place that just opened in the center. Do you want to come?” Paula waits anxiously for Ana to say yes. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to put up with her friends’ harassment alone when she shows up without a date. Marta and Raquel will come with an arsenal of questions about the supposed boyfriend, prepared to get all the information out of her that they can. She does the same each time one of them gets with someone, so she doesn’t think it’s fair to expect they’ll change strategy. They’re such creatures of habit! Always the same line: You have to tell me everything, and if not, you’re not my best friend anymore.

  “Who’s going to go?”

  “My friends and I thought of calling Ángel, the twins’ brother. My father insisted on it, because I don’t have a car and he doesn’t want me to return alone. In reality I think Dad wants him to spy on me. I don’t think that ‘David’ impressed him much. To be honest, I don’t really want Ángel to come! I’m going to call him to avoid problems with my father, but in this case I’m not sure the cure won’t be worse than the illness.”

  “Do you get along well with him?”

  “Yes, but... he lays it on a bit thick with me, and I avoid him. The truth is that he makes me panic a little, because as soon as we’re alone he always professes his love for me!”

  Ana smiles.

  “And what’s so bad about that?” she asks.

  “That he’s been doing it since he was six years old! And I’ve told him every time that he doesn’t interest me.”

  “Is he that horrible?” Ana asks.

  “Not at all! He’s pretty good-looking. But I’ve grown up avoiding him and now I can’t be objective with him. For me it’s as if since I was small, he’s carried a sign around his neck saying ‘Avoid’. But when other people are around, there’s no danger. He cuts the cheesy lines and doesn’t insist like he usually does. I even enjoy spending time with him. He’s a nice guy, but it’s like he’s one of my brothers, and he can’t get it into his head that I’m not capable of seeing him in any other way.”

  “Come on, we have to go to class. Who wants to study just before Christmas?” says Ana. The two look at each other and without saying a word come to an agreement. They run into class, grab their folders and coats, and hurry back out, brushing past that day’s professor entering at the same time. He makes a face in annoyance. With everyone cutting his class, soon nobody will attend. Why does he keep preparing the material every week? It would be the same if he always repeated the same thing. Very few would notice the difference.

  “Where are we going?” asks Paula.

  “How about we stop by the coffee shop?”

  “Good idea!”

  It’s the first time they’ve ever gone into the university coffee shop, despite the two years they’ve been there. It’s a small, shabby place, where the kind of people gather who will likely take more than four years to get the degree. The institutionalized sport is the card game “mus”, and the population is largely male, although specimens of the other sex aren’t rare. Ana and Paula sit at a table in a tucked-away corner after ordering two coffees, and start talking. Neither of the two realizes that they’re being observed. The second they entered, Javier, who frequents the place, sighted them. He wants to leave immediately, but he’s trapped in a game of “mus” that’s just started. Suddenly he starts to make stupid bids and incomprehensible plays.

  “What’s happening, man?” his partner in the game asks him. “Have you suddenly forgotten how to play? If you keep this up we’re going to get crushed any moment.”

  “Sorry!” he says, dropping his cards. “I have to go. I just remembered a meeting I’d forgotten about.”

  “If you’re pulling out, pay the round,” threatens one of his opponents, referring to the soft drinks and coffees spread out on the table. Javier slides over the money, grabs his folder and motorbike helmet, and hightails it out of there without giving more explanations. He feels Paula’s eyes watching him through the windowpanes of the bar.

  “Idiot!” Paula thinks she’s only said it mentally, but in reality she’s spoken the word out loud.

  “What did you call me?” Ana is taken aback, not understanding.

  “Sorry, I was talking to myself! I forgot to run an errand for my mother.”

  She lies so as not to confess the irritation she feels that he’s left without even smiling at her. But how could it be otherwise! She was horribly rude when he came to her house, to the point that Javier now goes running as soon as he sees her. She has to stop reading stories that end happily, because life isn’t like that. At least hers isn’t. Studying might not be her strength, but compared to her relationships with boys, her academic record merits a dist
inction.

  * * *

  Now it’s Tuesday, two in the morning. Paula wakes up to the bleep of a message. Who would be so crazy as to send messages at this time? Raquel. It has to be her. Nobody is more disturbed than Raquel. She lifts the cover and presses the button. On the screen some words appear that could possibly be from Ana, but they’re not. The number is unknown, unrecorded in the phone’s memory. It can’t be from any of her friends. She shuts her phone and goes back to sleep. Wrong number. Definitely.

  * * *

  Javier can’t sleep. Today he managed to duck out when he saw her at the university. He knows she saw him, but didn’t say anything. She didn’t seem as angry as Saturday. Maybe he can try something. His head has been in a fog the last two days. First he tells himself to risk it, and a second later he thinks it’s just madness. He takes the cell phone on the night table and looks through the missed calls. There’s her number. An absurd moment and then he’s done it. It’s two in the morning, far too late. The SMS says: “Tmw I’ll pick you up at 8 and we’ll skip class.” It’s done. Tomorrow he’ll come to her door with the motorbike, and take his chances with destiny.

  Now it’s seven and the water of the shower can’t settle on the right temperature. First it’s too hot, then it’s too cold. Everything is scheming so that he doesn’t find a balance. He’s fallen in love, there’s no doubt of that now. Falling in love is a mess. At least falling in love with someone one shouldn’t. But today he’s ready to change things. He wraps a towel around his waist and goes to confront the closet in his room. How depressing! But it is what it is. He grabs the white sweatshirt with a hood he reserves for special occasions, since his mother kicks up a fuss every time she has to wash it. Black jeans. Purple Converse. He’s never been too good at matching. He goes to the kitchen to eat breakfast, alone as always. His father is already at work and his mother never gets up before ten. He can’t remember the last time she made breakfast for him.