“Orson, this is Judith, my girlfriend,” says Eric.
This Orson is a blond, pale hunk.
“So pleased to meet you,” he says, leaving Flyn behind.
“Me too,” I say, trying to be courteous.
The man just looks at me and smiles.
“Spanish?” he asks Eric. My love nods.
“A very beautiful Spaniard!”
“Among other things,” says Eric, looking my way and grinning.
I’m about to say something when Orson grabs me by the waist.
“Make yourself at home. You know, relax and enjoy. Undress, and I’ll give you everything you need.”
I don’t understand a thing and look over at Eric. Undress?
Eric is amused by my confusion.
For the love of God, Flyn is with us!
I want to say something, to protest, but my tall guy comes up to me and kisses me on the lips.
“I just want you to have a good time, sweetheart. C’mon . . . undress and enjoy it.”
Has he lost his mind? What does he want me to do?
“C’mon, follow me, beautiful,” Orson says, hurrying me along. “And you two can go. I’ll take care of her and everything she needs.”
I’m overheated. I feel faint. I’m indignant. I’m going to scream, to explode like a woman possessed, when a young woman with a clothes rack comes in. She looks at Eric and blushes.
“She’s the client who came to try on the new wardrobe, right?”
Eric cracks up, and, once I see what’s going on and how I twisted it all by myself in my little head, I punch Eric in the shoulder and laugh too. Eric takes his nephew’s hand and kisses me on the lips.
“You should get more clothes, Cuchufleta. C’mon, go with Orson and Ariadna and buy everything, absolutely everything, you want. Flyn and I have things to do.”
Delighted, I return his kiss and follow Orson and the girl with the clothes rack. They take me to a room with huge mirrors and several racks holding all kinds of clothes.
“Eric told me you need everything,” says Orson. “So, enjoy. Try on whatever you want. If there is something you don’t like, let us know, and we’ll bring you something else.”
I watch, stunned, as Orson leaves. The young woman looks at me and smiles.
“Let’s begin!” she exclaims.
For more than two hours, I try on pants, dresses, skirts, blouses, boots, shoes, coats, and lingerie. Everything is gorgeous and, unfortunately, tagged with an absolutely unaffordable price!
There’s a knock at the door. It opens and it’s Eric. I’m dressed in a sexy black chiffon dress very similar to the one Shakira wears in her video for the song “Gitana.” I love this dress, and, from what I can see, Eric does too. That makes me glad. As soon as Ariadna sees him come in, she vanishes and leaves us alone.
I take a flirtatious little turn in front of him.
“What do you think?”
Eric comes close, takes me by the waist, and grins.
“I can’t wait for the moment to tear it off you, sweetheart.”
I’m about to say something, but he kisses me. Oh God, I love his kisses!
“You’re gorgeous in that dress,” he says as he steps away. “Buy it.”
I look at the price tag, and I’m instantly scandalized.
“Eric, it’s a . . . God! It’s twelve thousand six hundred euros. No way! Come on, please, I don’t earn that even with three thousand hours of overtime.”
He smiles and touches my chin.
“You know money is no problem for me. Buy it.”
“But . . .”
“You need a dress for my mother’s party on the fifth, and you’ll look beautiful in this one.”
The door opens, and in come Ariadna and Orson. He whistles at me appreciatively.
“That dress was made for you, Judith,” says Ariadna.
“Well, Judith, was there anything you liked?” asks Orson.
I’m absolute dumbstruck by everything. It’s all fantastic.
“I think I like everything,” I say kiddingly.
Orson and Eric look at each other.
“Have everything delivered to the house,” Eric says.
I’m horrified.
“Eric, for the love of God, don’t even think about it! How can you just buy everything?”
“Well, if you don’t want everything sent to the house, choose something. And when I say something, I mean . . . accessories too, including shoes and boots. You’re going to need them until your things get here from Spain, OK?”
Wow!
“Are you sure, Eric?”
“I’m totally sure, sweetheart.”
“Eric . . . I’m embarrassed. It’s so much money.”
My Iceman kisses me on the tip of my nose.
“You’re worth it, love. Come on, let me enjoy seeing you enjoy this. Pick absolutely everything you want, and don’t worry about the price. You know I can afford it. Please, make me happy.”
I look at Orson, and he’s grinning. What an incredible sale he’s about to make! I finally give in. I’m living the dream any woman on earth would want. To shop without looking at the price! I take a deep breath and turn back to the things that have caught my attention, ready to make Eric happy, although, let’s be real—I’m the one who’s going to enjoy this most.
Ariadna comes over so I can hand her the items I want. Without looking at the price, I choose several jeans, T-shirts, dresses, long and short skirts, shoes, boots, socks, bags, underwear, a long coat, hats, scarves, gloves, a quilted jacket, and several pajamas.
Task completed, my heart racing, I glance over at Eric.
“I want all of this, plus the dress I’m wearing.”
Eric grins. He’s obviously thrilled.
“Wish granted.”
15
Wearing a pretty red dress I bought that afternoon, I look at myself in the bedroom mirror. I’ve combed my hair into a bun high on my head and look rather sophisticated. There’s a torrential rain. It’s storming, and the thunder shakes me. I’m not easily frightened, but I’ve never liked thunder.
I call my dad in Jerez and talk to him and my sister. I hear my niece laughing in the background, and that makes my heart ache. While we talk on the cell, we all seem happy, although we know we miss each other terribly. Really terribly.
I’m a little emotional when I get off the phone and decide to retouch my makeup. I’ve been crying; my nose is red, and I need to get it together. When I think I’m totally presentable again, I leave the room and go down the regal stairway to the living room. It’s the last night of the year, and I want to have a good time with Eric and Flyn. When Eric sees me, he gets up from the armchair. He looks incredibly handsome in his dark suit and blue shirt.
“You look beautiful, Jude. Beautiful.”
He kisses me on the lips, and the kiss tastes of desire and love.
“Enough kissing already. It’s disgusting!”
Flyn can’t stand our public displays of affection, and that amuses us, although the boy doesn’t like that. I then realize he’s dressed like a miniature Eric. I nod with approval.
“Flyn, dressed like that, you look so much like your uncle. You look very handsome.”
He gives me a little smile.
“C’mon . . . you’re late and I’m hungry.”
I look at my watch. It’s not even seven o’clock!
My God, how can they eat so early?
This German time is going to kill me. Eric seems to read my thoughts, and he grins. When I get myself together, I see the beautifully decorated table Simona and Norbert have prepared for us.
“Well,” I say as Eric directs me to one of the chairs, “in Germany, what do you usually eat on New Year’s Eve?”
Just then, the door to the kitchen opens, and Simona and Norbert come in with two tureens they place on that lovely table. Surprised, I see there are lentils in one and soup in the other.
“Lentils?” I ask, laughing.
/> “Ugh!” says Flyn.
“It’s tradition in Germany, just like in Italy,” responds Eric happily.
“It’s a pork-and-sausage soup, Miss Judith, and it’s delicious,” says Simona. “Shall I serve you?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Simona fills my plate while they all look at me. They’re waiting for me to taste it. I pick up my spoon and do as they wish. In fact, it’s very good.
I watch Norbert joking around with Flyn and Simona filling Eric’s soup bowl. And because I can’t seem to keep my thoughts to myself, I lean over to Eric and whisper, “Why don’t you ask Simona and Norbert to sit and have dinner with us?”
My suggestion surprises him at first, but then he understands.
“Simona, Norbert, would you like to have dinner with us?”
Husband and wife exchange quick glances. From the looks on their faces, I can see it’s the first time Eric has suggested such a thing.
“Sir,” says Norbert, “we appreciate that very much, but we’ve already had dinner.”
Eric looks over at me.
“I would love it if you would have dessert with us. Will you promise?” I say, determined to get my wish.
Husband and wife look at each other again, but, in the end, and because of Flyn’s insistence, Simona smiles and agrees.
Ten minutes later, after we finish the soup, Simona and Norbert come back with more plates. I pick up a bun with something that looks like white sausage.
And then Norbert brings us another tray, and I find myself clapping.
Lobster, cheese, and Iberian ham, olé! When Eric sees my face, he takes my hand.
“Don’t forget my mother is Spanish, and so we have a lot of traditions she’s taught us.”
“Mmm, I love ham,” says the boy.
The ham is sublime! And when they bring the roasted duck, I can’t stand the temptation. I don’t want to seem gluttonous, so I serve myself only a little bit, but it’s amazing!
I also try the German cheese and the carrot-and-cabbage dish. I’m told these are traditional recipes to guarantee financial stability. Since I’m unemployed, I eat up!
Dinner goes really well, although I realize I’m the one keeping the conversation alive. For Eric, it’s enough to just look at me and smile. Flyn tries to ignore me, but his age betrays him, and when I talk about games on Wii or PlayStation, he can’t help himself and joins the conversation.
“You’re incredible, my love,” says Eric, leaning toward me.
Just when I decide I’m not going to eat more or I’ll explode, Simona and Norbert come in with an unbelievable-looking dessert. I want to guzzle it up just staring at it.
“Simona’s homemade Bienenstich—it’s so good!” says Flyn, clapping happily.
“What is it?” I ask, not taking my eyes off the dessert.
“It’s a German dessert, miss,” says Norbert, “which Simona has truly mastered.”
“Oh yes, it’s the best Bienenstich you’ll eat in your whole life,” Eric confirms.
“It’s a recipe handed down from my grandmother to my mother and my mother to me,” says Simona, obviously touched at being the center of attention, especially of the three men of the house, although she’s addressing me. “The Bienenstich is made in layers. The bottom layer includes yeast; the second layer is made from sugar, butter, and an almond cream; and the top layer has caramelized almonds.”
“Mmm, that sounds stupendous!” I say. “And since this is dessert, you have to sit down with us and have some.” Simona and Norbert look at each other again. “You promised me!”
Eric follows my example and pulls back a chair for Simona.
“Will you please sit with us?”
Practically holding her breath, Simona sits, and then her husband sits beside her.
“You cut this like a cake, right?” I ask.
Simona nods.
“Very well, then I’ll serve everyone this fantastic Bienenstich. Flyn, could you bring two more small plates for Simona and Norbert?”
The boy gets up, runs to the kitchen, and comes back with the two plates. I cut five pieces and hand them out. When I sit down again, I see Eric’s look of satisfaction.
“All right . . . you’d better eat, or I’m going to eat it all,” I mutter, which makes them all laugh.
Between laughter and small talk, we make that incredible dessert disappear. I’m surprised when I realize my four companions are enjoying the moment as if it were unique, and that makes me tremendously happy. I ask them to sing me a German carol, and Norbert immediately intones the traditional “O Tannenbaum.”
I listen, enthralled. With his nephew sitting on his lap, Eric joins in the singing; it’s so very lovely, it gives me goose bumps. To see these four people brought together by music reminds me of my own family. I’m sure my father and sister are basting the lamb and my niece and brother-in-law are laughing about something. That makes me a little sad, and my eyes fill with tears.
When the song is over, I immediately applaud, and Flyn, who’s now caught up in my game, asks me to sing something in Spanish. I try to imagine what carol he might have heard from Sonia and decide on “The Fish and the Sea.” I’m right, and both the boy and Eric clap and sing along.
When we finish, this time it’s Simona and Norbert who clap, and then we join in the applause.
What a lovely family moment!
Eric uncorks a bottle of champagne and fills all the pretty glasses except for Flyn’s, which has pineapple juice. We all toast to Saint Sylvester.
When Simona insists on cleaning up the table, I want to help. At first, she and Norbert complain.
“Simona, if Jude says she’s going to help you, nothing’s going to stop her,” Eric says, and they surrender. In the end she’s glad I help. I manage to get Norbert to stay with Eric and Flyn talking in the living room. When I go to pick up the last plates, Simona stops me. “No . . . we have to leave those plates on the table until the break of dawn. In Germany, it’s a tradition to leave the leftovers on the table. That guarantees next year will be bountiful.”
I immediately and gladly put down the plates.
“Well then, I’m all about bounty!”
For a while, the five of us have a wonderful time telling funny stories. They tell me it’s traditional to play a game called Bleigiessen, and I’m told there are Bleigiessen kits that explain the meanings.
Bleigiessen is a ritual to foretell the future. You melt lead on a spoon with a candle flame, and then you drop the pieces of lead into cold water and wait for them to harden. Each person then chooses one of the pieces, and, with the help of the kit, you can tell your future.
“If the lead looks like a map,” says Flyn, “it’s because you’re going to travel a lot.”
“If it looks like a flower,” says Norbert, “it means you’ll make new friends.”
“And if it comes out in the shape of a heart,” exclaims a smiling Simona, “it’s that love will come soon.”
Eric is loving this. I can tell by the look on his face and the way he’s smiling. Finally, he gets up, invites us all to join him on the couch, and turns on the TV. “Jude, in Germany there’s another tradition. It’s a little strange, but again it’s a tradition.”
“Oh really? What is it?” I ask.
They all smile, and Eric gives me a sweet kiss on the cheek.
“After a New Year’s Eve dinner and before going out to watch the fireworks, we like to look at a funny video. It’s quite old. It’s in black and white, and it’s called Dinner for One. You’ll see . . . It’ll start after the commercials.”
The others get comfortable, and I laugh.
“Don’t laugh, sweetheart,” says Eric. “It’s a tradition! Every single channel broadcasts it year after year on New Year’s Eve. What’s most curious of all is that it’s a skit in English, although some channels do include German subtitles.”
“What’s it about?”
Eric puts his arms around me as the skit begins.
/>
“Sophie is celebrating her ninetieth birthday with James, her butler, and several friends who are no longer there because they’ve died. The funny part is how the butler pretends to be each of the friends for Sophie.”
He stops talking because he’s laughing at the TV. As they watch the video, I’m surprised at all of them. They’re having so much fun that even Flyn drops his usual furrowed brow to laugh openly at the butler’s antics on the screen.
When the skit’s over, Simona goes to the kitchen and comes back with five little glasses of grapes. I’m quite surprised.
“Remember that my mother is Spanish,” says Eric. “We’ve never been without grapes on a New Year’s Eve here.”
Really moved, dazed, and happy because of these simple grapes, I yelp when Eric turns to the international channel and we see the Puerta del Sol in Madrid.
Oh, my Spain!
There are fifteen minutes left of the year, and to see my dear Madrid really moves me. My tears seem to surprise Flyn.
“Don’t cry, love,” Eric whispers in my ear.
I contain my tears and smile. “I have to go to the bathroom for just a sec.” I leave as quickly as I can.
I close the bathroom door and sob. But these are strange tears. I’m happy because my family is fine. I’m happy because Eric is by my side. But these tears still insist on falling.
I cry for a few minutes until I finally manage to control the flow. I wash my face and then hear a knock on the bathroom door.
“Are you OK?” says a worried Eric when I come out of the bathroom.
“Yes,” I say in a thin voice. “It’s just that it’s the first time I’ve been away from my family on such a special night.”
Back in Spain, Epiphany is almost as big as Christmas. And because it commemorates the visit of the Three Kings to Jesus, that’s when we exchange presents. It’s probably the biggest family holiday of the year.
I know he can see in my eyes what’s happening, and he hugs me.
“I’m sorry, love. I’m sorry that, because you’re with me, you might not be having the best time.”
His words comfort me. I kiss him on the lips.
“Don’t be sorry, honey. It’s been a really magical time for me.”
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