by Cherry Kay
“He wanted to see you. Of course I said you weren’t here.”
“You told him I was in Barcelona?”
“Of course not. I just said you weren’t here.”
“He left right away?”
“Of course not. He didn’t believe us. He insisted on seeing you.”
“How did you make him leave?”
“Your father asked nicely. It was surprising, actually.”
“Even I can’t believe it. He dislikes Terrence with a passion.”
“He hates Terrence, and we shouldn’t mince words.”
“I don’t hate Terrence. I just wish I could hit his face, with a chair. Or a brick. I could hit his nose with a brick.”
“I didn’t want to bring this up, you know. You’re there for a vacation. You’re there to heal.”
“I’m healing,” Iesha said defensively. “How’s your next collection going?”
“How’s yours?” her mother quickly retorted. Then she sighed. “I’ve been having a creative block lately. All I keep thinking about are palm trees on the canvas, which won’t do for a show. I hope you can get back to help me. I need inspiration.”
“My next collection is on hiatus,” Iesha said. “Although this place can really inspire.”
“I hope you meet someone there, someone who’ll make you happy.”
“I’m already happy alone.”
“Whatever you say,” her mother said with a laugh.
Their video call ended shortly thereafter, with Iesha quickly finishing her oatmeal and berries breakfast. She had an hour and a half before class, so she took her time changing into casual dark jeans, a loose grey sweater, and gold flats—she had her dance clothes stashed in her gym bag. Then she put on some sunblock, something her mother demanded she do since middle school. The moment she got down from her apartment, she saw a sleek, black Audi sedan idling at the front of the building.
The window rolled down, and she was surprised to see it was Alex.
“What are you doing here?” she asked him, standing beside the passenger side.
“I was on my way to check on a project, figured I’d drop you off at your dance class,” he said.
“I can take the bus,” she said.
“I can drop you off. Free chauffer service, mind you,” he said with a smile.
“Okay, okay, seeing you’re so persistent. And that free promo is something I can’t miss,” she said, sliding inside the car. “I didn’t know this was yours.”
“It’s my other car,” he said, as he pulled away.
“How many other cars do you have?”
“Three,” he laughed. “I had to do something with my single life.”
“So you’ve stopped buying cars lately? Or will I see a new one soon?”
“Depends how long I stay single,” he replied with a grin. “It’s dela Vega, right?”
She nodded. “Where are you off to?”
“Somewhere by Gracia,” he replied, “Working on a restaurant. I’ll take you there once it opens. But first, I have to see if the food is any good. Wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”
“I have to try bad food to appreciate the good,” she told him.
He laughed. “Alright, then. So, how did your morning go?”
She bit her lower lip then forced herself to say something. “It was uneventful. I spoke with my mom.”
“About your store?”
“Yeah, she’s managing it fine. She’s also working on her show. It’s slated for a few months from now,” she replied.
“An art show?” he marveled. “Wow, that I have to see. You know, if I didn’t become an architect, I’d have become a painter. You?”
“If I didn’t become a fashion designer? I think I’d have studied law,” she said, looking out the window.
“Law, that’s interesting. If you did, we’d have never met.”
“Why?”
“You’d have married Terrence.”
“Or divorced him by now,” she sighed.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to be reminded of him.”
“Sorry, I thought you’d gotten over him, so talking about him would be just like talking about the weather.”
“I have,” she quickly said. “Have you?”
He laughed. “If I hadn’t, I’d have cooped myself up in the office and worked my ass off in all my waking hours. But, as you can see, I’m out and about, with you.”
She couldn’t help but wonder what this conversation was about. Maybe she was obviously off her recently good mood, even if she tried not to let the earlier conversation with her mother affect her. Terrence looked for her. What did he want to say? She didn’t bother to ask her mother that. I’m here to heal.
“Will you be busy the next few days?” she asked him.
She saw him frown for a moment. “Yeah, I guess. Why? You need me to be with you somewhere?”
She shook her head. “I’m good. Just asking.”
“Let’s have a weekend off next week,” he told her.
“What do you mean by that? Dinner?” she queried.
He shook his head. “Drive around somewhere, outside of Barcelona.”
Her brows rose. “Really?”
“Yeah, I mean Barcelona is great and all, but you haven’t seen other places, yet.”
“What about work?”
“What about it?”
“You said you were busy.”
“I am, but it doesn’t mean I can’t relax.”
“Can you sacrifice a whole weekend of doing nothing?”
He smiled. “Who says I’m doing nothing? I’ll be with you.”
*
He felt that she wasn’t in the mood. Something had transpired earlier in the morning, but he didn’t want to pry. He had dropped her off, wishing her a good day, and she bid him the same. There was something about that pleasantry from her that bothered him.
What do you know about her, huh? She could be on her period, she could have woken up on the wrong side of the bed, ruined her eyeliner, something like that. He wanted to shrug it off. That little voice inside him said something was wrong, but he weighed his choices.
Yes, what do I know about her? Nothing much. Just what she said, what she relayed about her life. It could be the truth. It could be a lie. It could be half-truths; embellishments were sometimes needed to impress, although he didn’t strike her as that kind of person. He didn’t even bother impressing her. He just came as he was.
He couldn’t tell her that he wanted to invite her to his parents’ anniversary party, not the way her mood presented itself earlier, but he wanted to. A part of him wanted to show her off to the people he loved… but he stopped the moment he wondered if she would even appreciate it.
He hadn’t finalized the hotel yet, where the party was going to be, and he was headed to one right now. He had narrowed down the hotels in mind to something even his father would appreciate. Aesthetics were everything to father and son, down to the food presentation, even.
The current hotel was a fairly new one, with a Michelin-rated restaurant among its five cuisine outlets. He liked the set-up, with the hotel maintaining distinct Spanish inspiration. He spoke with a receptionist, who quickly referred him to one of the hotel managers. The manager, a female, was apparently excited to give him a tour of the facilities, most especially the ballroom.
He wondered if this was because she recognized him. Either way, he didn’t care much. He just wanted this over and done with. Tomorrow would be another hotel, but this one seemed promising. They were just about to go inside the grand ballroom when he heard a distinct voice, a voice he hadn’t heard in quite a while, but it was still so familiar, almost comforting.
Alex stopped in place, his feet rooted on the carpeted floor.
“Is something the matter, sir?”
It was her laughter, her laughter that gave it all away. A part of him had hoped it wasn’t her. His heart almost stopped. “Nothing, someone’s still inside
.”
“Oh, it’s just a couple with one of our event managers, sir. Please, do come in.”
He couldn’t move, not until the large doors opened. The chandelier in the grand ballroom glistened, and he saw her smack dab in the center of the doorway, talking animatedly with an event manager. A man in a suit was holding the door open for them, nodding as he listened to the conversation.
“Alex?” the woman stopped, looking up to him, her eyes narrowing. Her face was a cross between a smile and confusion; she didn’t look happy to see him. But then again, what did he expect? It hadn’t been an amicable break-up.
He forced a smile. “Oh, it’s you. What are you doing here?”
Ana Paula Jimenez stood in front of him, still as beautiful as ever, dressed in a body hugging floral number, with kitten heels, and an expensive bag (what else was new) on one arm.
“Scouting for possible reception ballrooms. You?” she asked him. “Oh, this is my fiancé, Raul. Raul, this is Alex.”
The men shook hands, and Raul quickly excused himself with the pretense of wanting to ask the event manager some more questions. The man was gruff and his handshake was weak, but his suit was expensive—that much Alex found out about his ex-girlfriend’s current paramour.
“I supposed I could say I’m scouting for possible reception ballrooms, too,” he replied.
One perfectly made brow of hers rose. “Really? You’re getting married?”
He laughed. It was a hollow laugh, but a laugh he hoped had some meaning to it, a sincere one, at least, and one that didn’t mock the woman in front of him. “Shouldn’t I be congratulating you first?”
She flashed a smile, but her eyes narrowed a little. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been doing great.”
“I know,” she interjected, almost sighing.
“You know?”
“I’ve seen your works, that international feature. I’m happy you’re doing so well…” her voice trailed off. “I best go with Raul. It was… nice seeing you again after so long, Alex.”
He nodded, watching her walk back to her fiancé. Moments later, they all left, without him and her acknowledging each other again. How was that for awkward? He mustered all the ego he had, listening patiently to the events manager prattle about their services, the sound system, the food—but none of it interested him anymore. He just wanted to get out of the hotel.
By the time he drove away from the building, he knew he wasn’t having his parents’ anniversary celebration there. Ever!
*
She was surprised he didn’t bother texting at least, if he couldn’t call. He had mentioned some weekend escapade, but there was nary a word from him. Silence on his end, just silence for all of three days. She had relegated her relaxation time to sketching, filling page after page with designs, a possible collection once she got back: a Spring collection.
Iesha tried to not let it get to her, but she was bothered by his absence. Had she been so used to him interrupting her? Had she been so used to accommodating him? She wanted to ask him how he was, but it seemed unlike her. He had always initiated the call or a text first. She put her phone down for the umpteenth time, trying to control her urges. She didn’t want to seem clingy, although she had to admit she missed him.
Perhaps, she hadn’t been too careful with her sudden mood change, the time he brought her to her dance class. She had been in an obvious foul disposition, one she desperately tried to keep at bay for the whole day. The mere mention of his name… so she wasn’t over him yet, huh? Terrence hadn’t given her a second glance back in their university days, not until he saw her at a pool party, wearing something she had designed herself. The maillot did her figure justice, and Terrence quickly had himself introduced to her. At first she didn’t like him. He was a bit cocky, and she hadn’t dated a ‘white’ boy before.
He had said she was the most beautiful girl that night, and she believed him. She believed him for the next five years of their relationship. He had presented her with an engagement ring that any woman would have swooned over, and she immediately said yes. He had proposed to her during a skiing trip to Colorado, amidst the heavy snow, glasses of champagne, and a roaring fire. It had been so romantic. She would later find out that he had planned that for three months, asking for her parents’ consent as well. It was a touching gesture, knowing he respected her parents enough to ask them for her hand in marriage.
She closed her eyes, knowing this wasn’t going to do her any good. She never begged to work on their relationship, didn’t want to fix it. She stopped going out with his friends, his friends that had become her friends over the years. It was only right. She had wanted to cut off every artery connected to Terrence, no matter how much it made her bleed.
Apparently, he didn’t get the message. He still had the audacity to go to her boutique? Wanting to talk to her? She would have loved to see him grovel, but Terrence didn’t grovel. That republican bred ex-fiancé of hers never begged. She would have been the wife of a future senator or maybe the wife of a future president, regardless, the wife of a cheating politician—there was always one, wasn’t there?
It was easy to imagine Alex in Terrence’s place, easy to imagine them being a couple (even if she knew that was far-fetched). If Alex asked her to marry him, she imagined she’d say yes. He wouldn’t even be considered rebound. She’d love every part of him, every unknown thing. She would. She just hadn’t yet. She wanted for things to move forward, but what good was it with her wandering status? She was a mere tourist, someone who didn’t really belong in Spain.
Don’t you belong in his arms, though?
Chapter7
It was a Saturday, she thought. Why didn’t she turn off her alarm last night? Then she sat upright, realizing it was no alarm. Her phone was ringing. The call ended, and she reached out to grab it. Three missed calls from Alex. She blinked, thinking she was still probably half-asleep. Her phone rang again, and it was clear this time that he was calling her, like really calling her.
She took a deep breath, waited for another four more rings, and then she answered it in a groggy voice. “H’llo.”
“Where are you?” he asked her right away.
“My place,” she yawned. “Why?”
“Great, I’m outside.”
“What?”
“I’m outside.”
“What do you mean outside?”
“Outside your door. Your doorbell looks like it’s busted. So yeah, I’m outside.”
Oh god, she thought. She looked like a hot mess—that was for sure. “Wait,” she said, ending the call, running for the closest mirror to check on her face. She quickly gargled on some mouth wash and splashed some water on her face. Quickly wiping off the water from her face, she walked for the door.
He was there, like he said he would be, dressed in casual jeans, a white collared shirt, and boat shoes. In his hand was a takeout package of coffee and waffles.
“I’m not sure if you eat waffles,” he said, walking into her place right away. He looked around, as if to survey the area. “So this is where you live…”
Iesha found herself stepping back. “Whoa, wait, why are you here?”
“So we can have breakfast together.”
“It’s a Saturday,” she sputtered out.
“Yeah, remember we talked about going on a weekend trip? A tour of sorts, the one I said I’d do with you this weekend.”
“I didn’t know we were pushing through with that,” she said, frowning.
“What do you mean? You kept nodding the whole time.”
“I don’t think I was listening to you that much…” she stopped, then closed her eyes. “Sorry. That morning was a bad one.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing important.”
“If it ruined your mood, it should be somewhat important, right?”
She shook her head. “I can’t go with you. I’m not prepared for a trip. I don’t even know what we’re going to do. I didn
’t even know this was pushing through.”
“Why not?”
Her pent up frustration over his silence the last few days erupted, although not as violently as she envisioned it. “You don’t call or text, or even chat for days. How was I supposed to know those were concrete plans already?”
“They were. Anything I say is concrete, unless I say otherwise.”
“What?” she frowned, “No, I’m not going.”
“You have time. We’re still eating breakfast, anyway.”
She wanted him to go away, even if she had missed him terribly the last three days. She was being childish, she knew. It was as if nothing ever happened. It didn’t matter to him at all. She didn’t matter to him… but if she didn’t, why was he here? Because he needed her now? Wanted her?
“It’s like you forgot I existed for a while,” she said, feeling petty.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, “I was pretty busy.”
Too busy to glance at your phone? Too busy to talk to someone insignificant? That’s it, isn’t it? “Oh really,” she drawled.
“If this is your way of picking a fight, it’s not working. Besides, we’re not in that part of our relationship yet now, are we?”
Her cheeks burned. She was assuming too much. She was making an ass out of herself, while here he was, all calm and collected, with breakfast in hand, with an offer for a trip outside of Barcelona.
“We have forty minutes,” he told her mildly.
Iesha shook her head and marched back to her room. The weather was cool, so she decided to take along a scarf and a sweater, as soon as she finished showering. Dumping these into her bag, she packed along an extra shirt, just in case, plus a small towel and a swimsuit. Why a swimsuit? It was getting colder by the day. Whatever!
The waffles were on a plate, and he was eating and drinking coffee while reading the newspaper. She didn’t even notice he had brought along a newspaper.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s an hour away,” he smiled. “That’s all I’m telling you. I don’t want to ruin the scenery with you googling every bit of the tour.”