Now and Forever

by Maxwell, Megan

  “Well, we’ll talk about it another time,” he says, cutting me off.

  I stand on my tiptoes and give him a kiss on the lips.

  “Of course.”

  Eric shakes his head. Then he wraps the towel around his waist and, taking me into his arms, blurts out, “You know what, sweetheart? You’re starting to scare me.”

  After we eat, Eric leaves for the office. He promises he’ll be back in a couple of hours. Before he goes, he forbids me from going out in the snow, and I laugh. Marta, who’s still here, also leaves the house, and Sonia, when she finds out what happened, calls, upset, but talking to me calms her down.

  Simona is worried. We watch our soap opera, but she’s constantly looking at my face. I try to make her see I’m fine.

  When Flyn gets home from school, I’m in my room, sitting on the fluffy rug and talking to a group of my girlfriends on Facebook. We call ourselves the Maxwell Warriors, and we all have a crazy, fun side we love to share.

  “Can I come in?” Flyn says from the doorway.

  His question surprises me. He never asks. I nod. The boy comes in, closes the door, and, when I raise my face toward him, he turns white for a fraction of a second. He’s obviously scared. He wasn’t expecting to see me in a thousand different colors.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “But your face . . .”

  When I remember my face, I smile and try to play it down.

  “Don’t worry. It’s quite a watercolor, but I’m fine.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “No.”

  I close my laptop.

  “Can I talk to you?” he asks.

  I’m glad he’s decided to take the first step and come to me about what happened.

  “Of course. Come in. Sit with me.”

  “On the floor?”

  Amused, I shrug my shoulders. “I’m sure we won’t fall from down here.”

  A smile! I almost applaud.

  He sits down in front of me, and we look at each other. For more than two minutes, we don’t speak. That makes me nervous, but I’m determined to put up with his squinty gaze as long as I need to, just like I sometimes do with his uncle.

  “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” His eyes fill with tears, and he murmurs, “Do you forgive me?”

  I’m moved. Tough, independent Flyn is crying!

  “Of course I forgive you, dear, but only if you stop crying, OK?” He nods and swallows his tears. To ease some of the guilt he apparently feels, I say, “It was my fault too. I didn’t have to climb up on the wall and . . .”

  “It was all my fault. I closed the doors and didn’t let you in. I was angry, and I . . . I . . . What I did was really bad, and I’ll understand if Uncle Eric sends me to boarding school like Sonia and Marta say. He warned me last time, and I let him down again.”

  The pain and fear I see in his eyes tear me apart. Flyn isn’t going to any boarding school. I won’t allow it. His insecurity hits me right in the heart.

  “He’s not going to find out, because you’re not going to tell him, and I’m not either, OK?”

  Flyn clearly wasn’t expecting that reaction from me, and he’s obviously surprised.

  “You didn’t tell my uncle what happened?”

  “No, dear. I just told him I was out in the snow, slipped, and fell.”

  The little boy’s shoulders relax. I just took a weight off him.

  “Thank you. I was already seeing myself at boarding school.”

  His sincerity makes me smile.

  “But, Flyn, you have to promise me you won’t behave like that again. Nobody wants to see you in a boarding school. Based on your actions, it seems like you’re the one who wants to go. Don’t you see that?” He doesn’t respond. “What happened the other day at school?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Enough secrets! If you want me to trust you, you have to trust me and tell me what the heck is happening at school and why they say you started a fight when I don’t think that’s true.”

  He closes his eyes, seeming to weigh the consequences of what he’s going to say.

  “Robert and the other kids started calling me names. They called me a ching chong Chinaman, a pussy, a scaredy-cat. They make fun of me because I don’t know how to skateboard, ride a bike, or anything like they do. I tried to ignore them like always, but when George threw me on the ground and started punching me, I grabbed his skateboard and smashed it into his head. I know I shouldn’t have, but . . .”

  I curse Eric in silence. He’s causing all this with his constant fears of something happening.

  “The teachers don’t believe me. I’m the weird kid in class. And since I don’t have friends to stick up for me, they always blame me.”

  “And your uncle doesn’t believe you either?”

  Flyn shrugs his shoulders.

  “He doesn’t know anything. He thinks I get into trouble because I’m a troublemaker. I don’t want him to know those kids make fun of me because I’m a coward. I don’t want to let him down.”

  I cup his face with my hands.

  “Hitting that boy in the head with a skateboard was wrong, dear. You understand that, right?” The boy nods, and, hoping to show him I’m on his side, I go on. “But I’m not going to let anyone insult you again.”

  His eyes suddenly light up. I remember my niece.

  “Put your thumb against mine. And once they touch, we’ll give each other a high five.” He does as I say and smiles again. “That’s the code for friendship between my niece and me. Now it’ll be ours too. Would you like that?”

  He nods, and I’m about to jump for joy. I have a truce with Flyn. And when I think it can’t get any better, he says, “Thank you for sleeping in my room with me last night.”

  I shrug my shoulders to play it down.

  “Oh no! Thank you for letting me share your bed.”

  “You’re not afraid of thunder. I know that. You’re a grown-up.”

  That makes me laugh. Smart-ass.

  “You know what, Flyn? When I was little, I was also afraid of thunder and lightning. Every time there was a storm, I was the first one to jump into my parents’ bed. But my mom taught me there’s no need to be afraid of bad weather.”

  “How did your mom teach you?”

  Thinking of my mom, the caring look in her eyes, her warm hands, and her perpetual smile, I say, “She would tell me to close my eyes and think of nice things. And one day she bought me a pet. I called him Calamar. He was my first dog. My superfriend and superpet. When there were storms, Calamar would jump up into bed with me, and, when he was with me, I felt brave. I didn’t need to go to my parents’ bed anymore. Calamar protected me, and I protected him.”

  “And where is Calamar?”

  “He died when I was fifteen. He’s with Mom in heaven.”

  This revelation about my mother surprises him.

  “Yes, Flyn, my mom died like yours. But you know what? From heaven, she and Calamar send me strength so I won’t be afraid of anything. And I’m sure your mom does the same for you.”

  “You think so?”

  “Oh yes! Of course I do.”

  “I don’t remember my mom.”

  His sadness moves me.

  “That’s normal, Flyn. You were very little when she passed away.”

  “I would’ve liked to know her.”

  “I think you can get to know her through the eyes of the people who loved her, like Grandma Sonia, Aunt Marta, and Eric. Talking to them about your mom would be a way to remember her and learn things about her. I’m sure your grandma would love to tell you hundreds of things about your mom.”

  “Sonia?”

  “Yes.”

  “She’s always too busy,” the boy protests.

  “But you keep her at a distance. If you don’t let her take care of you and fuss over you, she won’t know you want that connection. Like why do you call her ‘Sonia’ and not ‘Grandma’?”

  He s
hrugs his shoulders and seems to think about his answer for a moment.

  “I don’t know. I guess because her name is Sonia.”

  “Wouldn’t you like to call her ‘Grandma’? I’m sure she would love that. Call her on the phone someday and go have a snack, lunch, or dinner with her. Ask her to tell you things about your mom, and you’ll see how important you are to her and to your aunt Marta.”

  The boy nods. Silence.

  “I shook up the Coke so it would spray in your face the other day,” he suddenly confesses.

  “I thought so.”

  “You thought so?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why didn’t you say anything to Uncle Eric?”

  “Because I’m not a tattletale, Flyn.” And, seeing how he looks at me, I touch his dark hair. “But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that, from now on, we’ll try to get along and be friends. Does that sound like a good idea to you?”

  He nods. He puts his thumb in front of me, and we do our high five again. I smile.

  His eyes flit curiously around the room, and I see them pause constantly on something to his right. I surreptitiously look over and see he’s spotted my skateboard and roller skates.

  “You’d like to learn to skate or skateboard, right?” Flyn doesn’t answer. “It’ll just be between you and me. Your uncle has no need to know for now. But sooner or later, just so he doesn’t kill us, we’ll have to tell him, OK? You want me to teach you?”

  His face changes, and he accepts.

  I knew Flyn wanted to learn new things. We quickly get up from the floor. I grab the skateboard and put it on the floor. I get on it and show him I know how to use it.

  “Can I do that too?”

  I stop and get off.

  “Of course.” I wink at him. “I’ll teach you to do some tricks that blonde girl from your school won’t be able to look away from.”

  Flyn blushes.

  “What’s her name?” I ask knowingly.

  “Laura.”

  Delighted by the wonderful moment I’m experiencing with the kid, I hold him by the shoulders and go on. “In a few months, Laura and that gang of thugs from your school are going to flip when they see how you handle a skateboard.”

  The boy nods.

  “C’mon . . . try it. First, put one foot on the skateboard and feel how it moves.”

  I hold his hands, and, when he puts his foot on the skateboard, it slips forward. He looks at me, fear in his eyes, and I try to calm him down.

  “Number one: never use it if I’m not around. Number two: you need to wear kneepads, elbow pads, and a helmet so you don’t get hurt. And number three, the most important: Do you trust me?”

  He nods affirmatively, and I get excited.

  Suddenly, we hear the noise of the car. I look out the window and see it’s Eric pulling into the garage. Not needing to say a word, the kid leaves the skateboard where it is and sits back down beside me on the floor. We act like nothing’s happened. Two minutes later, the door to the room opens, and Eric, seeing us both on the floor, asks in surprise, “What’s going on?”

  Flyn stands up and gives his uncle a hug.

  “Jude has been helping me learn something for school.”

  Eric looks at me. I nod. The little boy walks away. I get up and go to my favorite German, and, grabbing him around the waist, whisper, “As you can see, any day now, I’ll be getting that little kiss from your nephew.”

  Eric, clearly shocked but pleased, smiles.

  30

  The next morning, my face is greener than it is red. I look at myself in the mirror, and it flusters me.

  OK . . . I’m not saying I’m some beauty, but seeing myself like this is depressing. Poor Eric. He’s got quite a girlfriend. I’m just like the corpse bride. I laugh at myself for being silly. When I get back to the room, “Satisfaction” by the Rolling Stones is playing on the radio, and I sing along. That song always reminds me of my friends in Jerez. I start dancing while singing at the top of my lungs. Eric comes up to give me a kiss before going to work, and I stop to kiss him.

  “I love seeing you so happy.”

  “This song reminds me of my friends.”

  “Anyone in particular?”

  With a Machiavellian smile, I nod. The look on Eric’s face changes, and he gives me the most sensual slap on the behind. “Who?” he demands.

  “Fernando . . .” His face tenses up, but I go on. “Rocío, Lora, Alberto, Pepi, Loli, Juanito, Almudena, Leire . . .”

  He gives me another slap and then another. It stings, but I laugh. The look on his face changes to something more pleasant this time as he massages my newly red butt.

  “Don’t play with fire, baby, or you’ll get burned.”

  “Mmm! I like to get burned.” Swinging my hips, I whisper, “Do you want to burn me?”

  Eric moves away from my side and sighs. “You get better, and then I promise I’ll make you burn.”

  “Have a good day, darling.”

  That said, he leaves. He’s not even out the door, and I already miss him. But I’ve arranged to have lunch with Frida, and I know I’m going to have a good time. Peeking out the window, I see his car pulling away, and, suddenly, the phone rings. My sister.

  “Hey, babe!”

  “Hey, dummy! How are you?” I ask, laughing while I flop down on the bed to talk to her.

  “Good. Dumber every day, but good. How about you—how’s it going?”

  Her voice sounds a little sad, but I’m riding high from what happened seconds before with Eric. “Well, listen, Raquel, don’t get scared. I’m fine, but I look just like the Incredible Hulk. The day before yesterday, I fell in the snow. My face looks like a Picasso painting, and I’ve got stitches on my chin. But that’s all.”

  “Babe, don’t scare me!”

  “Hey, it was just a little bump, that’s all. Don’t get all dramatic.”

  We talk for more than an hour. When I hang up the phone, I get dressed and go down to the dining room. Simona is vacuuming and, when she sees me, she stops.

  “How are you today, miss?”

  “Better, Simona. Has Emerald Madness started yet?”

  “Goodness gracious! We’d better run, or we’ll miss it,” she says after a quick glance at her watch.

  At twelve o’clock, Frida shows up with some things I asked her to pick up on her way. She’s speechless when she lays eyes on me. Even though I warned her over the phone, she can’t help but be blown away when she gets a look at my face.

  Sitting down in the living room, we eat what Simona has prepared for us while we chat.

  “I have to tell you something, Frida.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I ran into Betta the other day, and I slapped her twice across the face. And, before you say anything, I know it was wrong. I’m an adult, and I can’t go around behaving like a delinquent. But, listen, I have to admit it felt good doing it, and if not for all the people looking at us, I would have given her seven more.”

  The fork drops from her hand, and I tell her what happened. She curses, wishing she’d been there, like Marta, to give Betta a well-deserved slap of her own. When we finish eating, instead of sitting in the living room, we decide to go to my room. She’s surprised at how pretty I’ve made it, and, when she sees the red tree in one corner, I comment only, “Don’t ask.”

  In good spirits, we sit down on the comfy red armchair Eric gave me and gossip about our favorite soap opera.

  “So, is everything all right with Eric?”

  “Yes. We argue; we make up; and we argue again. It’s fine.”

  “I’m glad,” she says, laughing. “And in bed, also fine?”

  “Incredible. Every time we have a threesome with Björn, it’s indescribable. It drives me crazy to see how passionate it makes Eric. How he offers me up . . . Oh my God, I love how they possess me between the two of them! I never thought I could have such a good time doing something that seemed so scandalous at first.”


  “Sex is sex, Judith. That’s all there is to it. If you two like it and enjoy it as a couple, go for it!”

  “I enjoy it now, Frida. But I can assure you, before, I thought people who did this kind of stuff were a bunch of perverts. But it makes me feel so wanted, the way they make me theirs . . .”

  “Shut up; you’ll get me all excited.” We both laugh. “By the way, did Eric tell you anything about the private party tonight?” I shake my head no. “Heidi and Luigi throw amazing parties. I’m sure you were invited, but given your condition, I’m guessing Eric turned them down.”

  “With my color, he’d better not take me out of the house, in case I scare someone,” I joke, and we both laugh. “Are lots of people going to that party?”

  “Yes. They usually do it at their swingers’ bar, and I can promise you, you’d love it.” She lowers her voice. “Last year at that party, Andrés and I made one of our fantasies come true.” When she sees my face, Frida laughs and whispers, “We each had an orgy.”

  When she sees me blink at that, she explains further. “Andrés picked out six women from the party, and I picked six men. We went into one of the rooms, I gave myself to mine, and Andrés gave himself to his. It was amazing, Judith. I was the center of my men, and I tried different positions with all of them. God, you can’t imagine how much I enjoyed it, and Andrés had a great time with his girls too. In the end, we brought the two groups together and had one big orgy. Like I said, Heidi and Luigi’s parties always have something good to offer.”

  What she tells me sounds excellent, but a little exaggerated for my taste. I have plenty with just two men, but it’s hot to imagine.

  She explains her experiences to me for a while. They’re all so hot and exciting. I love talking to Frida so openly about sex. I’ve never had a friend I could confide in with this much candor, and I like it. She leaves at five to get ready for the party.

  Sonia calls to see how I’m doing, and Marta calls after her. She’s delighted about her date tonight. I encourage her and tell her to call me tomorrow and tell me how it went.

  Flyn comes home from school. After he completes his chores, I wait for him in my room. I show him the in-line skates I told Frida to get for him. He claps. Once he’s put on his elbow pads, kneepads, and helmet, we start his skateboard classes. As I expected, he gets exasperated. The first thing to learn is where your center of gravity is. It takes him a while, although he finally gets it, but he doesn’t do much more than that.