That shuts me up.
“The night he lost you, that stupid, pigheaded friend of mine was going to ask you to marry him.”
“What!”
“Judith,” Björn insists, “why do you think I showed up with a bottle of champagne? Either he explained it badly, or you didn’t want to listen.”
I blink. I shake my head.
Eric was going to ask me to marry him?
That’s crazy!
“When the whole Betta thing happened and he found out about everything, he got really mad. His mother and sister gave him quite a telling-off. He told me that everything that happened wasn’t your fault. That it was his for being how he is. He wasn’t angry with you, darling. He was angry with himself. He couldn’t understand how he could be so thick as to let everyone lie to him and hide things.” I blink, almost not breathing, and Björn continues. “When he came to my house and told me, I said what I’ve always said. His way of saying things, so cutting, intimidates people, and then they don’t tell him anything. It was hard for him to hear, but he understood. He thought about it for days. That’s why he wasn’t talking to you, and when he finally realized that he wanted to make up for it, everything had already gone to shit. You kissed me. He shut everyone out, and you left.”
I’m dumbfounded. Björn snaps his fingers in front of my face.
“Still here?”
I nod.
“You have to come back. He’s so proud that, in spite of knowing he did wrong, he can’t ask you to come back even though he’s dying inside. And so, darling, if you love him, you have to take the first step. Everyone who lives around him will thank you for it.”
My mind is racing.
“I can’t do it, Björn. We hurt each other too much.”
He sighs and stands up.
“How can you both be so pigheaded?”
“It takes practice,” I respond, remembering the answer Eric once gave me.
“You love each other. You miss each other. Why can’t you work it out? You separated the first time because he threw you out. The second time because you left. One of you has to give in this time, right?”
What I’m hearing stuns me.
“I need to get out of here. Let’s go. I’ll buy you a drink.”
We go out that night and talk. He never tries to cross the line with me; he behaves like a true gentleman and a better friend than Eric. After dropping me off at my house at nine o’clock, he leaves. He has to catch a flight back to Munich.
The next day at the office, I’m writing an email when the man who makes me crazy suddenly appears in front of me and, without stopping, slams his hand down on my desk and says, “Miss Flores, step into my office.” And storms right back out.
My heart rises into my throat. Eric, here? I can’t move.
My legs tremble.
I’m hyperventilating.
Three minutes later, the phone rings. An internal call. I pick up.
“Miss Flores, I’m waiting for you,” Eric insists.
I stand up carefully. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him, and suddenly, he’s here, mere feet from me, and demanding my presence. My neck tingles. I close my eyes, breathe in, and walk into the office. The impact of seeing him takes my breath away. He’s let his beard grow.
“Close the door.”
His tone of voice is low and intimidating. I do what he asks.
“What were you doing out with Björn last night?” he asks all of a sudden.
I blink. We haven’t spoken in months, and that’s what he asks me? How could he . . .
When I manage to open my mouth, I answer, “Sir, I . . .”
“Eric . . . I’m Eric, Judith. Stop calling me ‘sir.’”
He’s livid, and his look is cold, but I remember what Björn told me, and I realize I’m holding a trump card.
“Look, Björn is a friend. Why wouldn’t I go out with him in Madrid, or wherever I like?”
Evidently, my answer doesn’t please him.
“Have you ever gone out with him in Munich without my knowing?” he asks through gritted teeth.
I open my mouth, surprised, and I whisper, shaking my head, “What kind of a fool are you?”
Eric rolls his eyes.
“Don’t start, Judith.”
“I’m sorry. But don’t you start,” I say, slamming my hand down on the desk. “What kind of nonsense are you asking me? Björn is the best friend you could have, and you ask me something like that?”
“Do you play with him, Judith?”
How could he think like that? Ill-tempered, I decide to give him a cheeky answer.
“I only do what you do. No more. No less.”
Silence. He finally nods and looks me up and down.
“All right.”
We stare at each other in challenge. I’m about to scream at him that he hid what happened with my sister from me, but in the end, not knowing why, I say, “I’m going to Munich next weekend.”
Eric stands up and leans on the desk, eyes bulging.
“Are you going to Björn’s party?”
I don’t know what party he’s talking about. Björn said nothing about it, and he doesn’t know about my trip. Now also leaning on the desk, I answer slowly and defiantly, “What does it matter to you?”
My phone rings. My salvation! I quickly pick it up.
“Good morning. This is Judith Flores. How may I help you?”
“Hey, babe! How are you, my dear?”
My sister!
My eyes still on Eric, I answer, “Hello, Pablo!”
“Pablo? But babe, it’s me, Raquel.”
“I know, Pablo . . . I know. Let’s have dinner, if you like. At your place? Perfect!”
My sister is so confused, but I talk right over her.
“I’ll call you later. I’m talking to my boss now. Talk to you soon.”
When I hang up, the look on Eric’s face is sinister.
“What’s wrong? Whoever tells you all about my life hasn’t mentioned Pablo?” And, leaning farther across the desk, I hiss into his face. “Well, they left you ill-informed. Björn is a friend, and Pablo clearly is not.”
Leaving it at that, I turn around and walk out of the office. I’m shaking all over.
I know he hasn’t taken his eyes off me, so I pick up my bag and get out of there as fast as I can. In the cafeteria, I order a Coca-Cola with lots of ice. I’m as thirsty as I am furious and hysterical.
What the hell am I doing? And, above all, what the hell is he doing? I open my cell and call Björn.
“Your little friend Eric is here. He came in mad as hell, asking me what you and I were doing yesterday in Madrid.”
“He’s in Madrid?”
At that moment, Eric walks into the cafeteria and looks for me. He sits at the opposite end of the bar, and I keep talking on the phone.
“Yes, and now he’s sitting right in front of me.”
“Fuck Eric!” says Björn with a laugh. “Look, my dear, you already know what I told you. He needs you. If you really love him, don’t be difficult and get back with him. He’s just waiting for you to take the first step. Be nice and sweet.”
Nice and sweet? What I did was declare war. I’m finding myself at the crossroads of my life, and I just can’t help but feel like we need to break this crazy cycle we’re in so we don’t keep hurting each other.
“Next weekend I’m thinking of going to Munich. I mentioned it to him, and he thinks I’m going with you to some party.”
“Wow, darling! That must have pissed him off,” he jokes.
After talking to Björn about my visit to Munich, I say goodbye and close my phone. I drink my Coca-Cola. I pay and leave the cafeteria. I go back to the office, and Eric follows two minutes later. He walks in and glares at me.
God, it turns me on when he looks at me that way.
I’m a goddamned masochist, but that stubborn gaze was part of what made me fall in love with him.
I try to concentrate on my wor
k, but I just can’t. I know what I need. Despite everything, I long for his mouth, his touch, and since I know how to get it, I stand up, walk into Miguel’s office—he’s not in—and go from there to the archive room.
Eric doesn’t take long in joining me, and before I have time to breathe, he’s already behind me. He doesn’t touch me. He’s just there. I act like I haven’t noticed his presence, and I turn around and bump into him. Oh my God, I love his scent.
“You need something, Mr. Zimmerman?”
His mouth goes straight to mine.
He thrusts his tongue into my mouth and kisses me. He devours me with longing. His beard and mustache tickle my nose and face, and when his hands hold my head to pull me into the kiss, I fall into it. I need it. I need him. While he kisses me, burning and demanding, my body regains strength. When it’s over, I look at him but don’t wipe my lips.
“Remember, sir, my mouth is not just yours anymore.”
Once I say that, I push him against the filing cabinets and walk out, bursting with energy after getting my kiss. But then I regret it. What am I doing? He needs me to take the next step, but my pride and my fear won’t let me. He doesn’t come near me again for the rest of the day, but he doesn’t stop watching me. Clearly, he wants me as much as I want him.
42
The next day, Eric doesn’t show up at the office. I call Björn, and he tells me he’s back in Munich. I feel calmer once I find that out, and the following Friday afternoon when I leave the office, I take my own flight to Germany. Marta comes to pick me up, and even though she’s mad about it, I insist I want to stay in a hotel. I’ve been thinking more about what I want. If Eric and I do make up, I want to have a place to take him. On Saturday morning, I meet up with Frida. She tells me Björn is throwing a party at his house tonight, and Eric thinks I’m going to be there.
I tell her I’m not planning to go. I don’t want to play without him.
In the afternoon, I go to Sonia’s house. She embraces me affectionately, and we have a lovely visit. Surprisingly, Simona shows up at Sonia’s. She gives me a big hug, and, laughing, she tells me what’s happening on Emerald Madness. But one of the best moments is when Flyn comes over. He doesn’t know I’m here, and, when he sees me, he runs into my arms. He’s missed me. After several squeezes and kisses, he shows me his arm. It’s totally mended, and he whispers to me that he and Laura are talking to each other now.
After we eat, when Flyn and I are playing on the Wii, Eric shows up. When he sees me, his face turns cold. He’s shaved, and he’s back to being as handsome as always. When he greets me with two kisses and his cheeks touch mine, I tremble. I close my eyes and enjoy the delicate brush between us. Marta and Sonia take Flyn to the kitchen. They want to leave us alone.
“Have you come for Björn’s little party?”
I don’t answer. I just look at him and smile.
Eric swears, then gets up and leaves. He doesn’t give me a chance to speak. Through the window, I see him climb back in his gray BMW and drive away. I sigh. I shouldn’t have provoked him. When Marta returns, she grabs my shoulders.
“That brother of mine, if he keeps carrying on like this, he’s going to go crazy.”
I’m going to go crazy too . . . I think. At seven o’clock, we go to the hotel. I change clothes, and, contrary to what Eric thinks, I go out to party with Marta. We go to the Guantanamera where Arthur, Anita, Reinaldo, and several other friends are waiting for us.
As soon as I walk in, I call out “Mojitos!” to forget about Eric. After several, I’m grinning and dancing salsa with Reinaldo. These people, my friends for all those months in Germany, welcome me with affection, hugs, and lots of love.
At eleven o’clock, I get a message from Frida: Eric is here.
That throws me off.
Knowing Eric’s at a private party without me makes me angry. Is he playing with other women? At eleven thirty, he calls me, but I don’t pick up. I don’t know what to say to him. After several more calls from him that I don’t answer, Frida calls at midnight. I run to the restroom so I can hear her.
“What’s going on?”
“Judith! Eric’s really pissed off!”
“Why? Because I’m not at the party?”
Frida laughs.
“He’s pissed off because he doesn’t know where you are. God, what a mess, Judith! Knowing you’re in Munich without being able to control you is killing him. Poor thing.”
“Frida, has Eric participated in any games?”
“Of course not, dear. He doesn’t have the stomach for it, although he’s come with other people.”
What other people?
“Why don’t you come? I’m sure if he sees you . . .”
“No.”
“But, Judith, darling, you confessed you wanted him, and we both know he wants you and . . .”
“I know what I said,” I say, still furious to know he’s there with other people. “And please, don’t tell him where I am.”
“Judith, don’t be like that . . .”
“Promise me, Frida. Promise me you won’t tell him anything.”
After getting a real promise out of Frida, I hang up. When I get back to the dance floor, Marta, unaware of what just happened, hands me another mojito. Trying to be happy, willing to have a good time, I scream, “Azúcar!”
I get back to the hotel at seven o’clock in the morning. I’m wrecked and fall on the bed as if I were dead. When I wake up, it’s two o’clock in the afternoon, and my head’s spinning. I drank too much last night. I look at my phone. The battery is dead. I take the charger out of my suitcase and plug it in.
Just when the phone starts to charge, it rings. Eric. I decide to pick up.
“Where are you?” he shouts.
“Right now, in bed. What do you want?”
Silence.
“Alone?”
I look around and turn over on the huge bed.
“What does it matter to you, Eric?”
He sighs.
“Jude, who are you with?”
I sit up in bed and push my hair out of my face. “What do you want?”
“You said you were going to Björn’s party, but you didn’t.”
“I didn’t say that,” I say. “I said I was going to a party, but I didn’t say it was Björn’s. I made it clear to you he’s just a good friend to me.”
Neither of us speaks for a moment.
“I want to see you, please.”
I like that he asked nicely, and I just don’t think I can resist any longer. I want him.
“At four o’clock in the English Garden, by the stand where we bought sandwiches the day we went with Flyn, OK?”
“All right.”
When I hang up, I grin. We have a date. I take a shower. I put on a long skirt, a T-shirt, and my leather jacket. I get a taxi, and when I arrive, he’s waiting for me. My heart beats fast. If he takes me in his arms and asks me to come back with him, I’m not going to be able to tell him no. I want him so much, in spite of how angry I am with him for not telling me about my sister and knowing he went to the party with someone else.
“Well, here I am. What do you want?”
“You look like you didn’t get much sleep.”
Amused by that observation, I look at him and respond, “You don’t look so good yourself.”
“Where were you last night and with whom?”
“Are we talking about that again?”
“Jude . . .”
“OK . . . I’ll answer your question when you tell me who the woman was who went with you to Björn’s little party last night.”
My question surprises him, and he doesn’t answer.
“My plane leaves at seven thirty. So, go ahead and say whatever you have to say to me. I have to go back to the hotel, get my suitcase, and catch my flight.”
He looks at me, confused. “You’re not going to tell me who you were with last night?”
“Have you answered my question?” He doesn’t
answer; he just looks at me. “I want you to know I know you lied to me too.”
“What?” he asks, thrown off.
“You hid my sister’s separation from me, and then you had the gall to get angry with me because I was hiding things about your family.”
“It’s not the same,” he defends himself.
“You’re a liar. You’re cold, and to answer your question about who I was with last night, all I’ll tell you is that I’m free to spend the night with whomever I please, just like you. Do you accept my answer?”
He looks at me hard and then finally stands up.
“Goodbye, Judith.”
He walks away. He leaves!
With my adrenaline pumping, I watch as he gets farther and farther away. He would never let me twist his arm. He’s too proud, and I guess I am too. This is not how I thought it would go. Finally, I get a taxi, go to the hotel, pick up my suitcase, and head to the airport. When the plane takes off, I close my eyes.
“Fucking pigheaded man!”
43
Ten days later, there’s a Müller convention in Munich, and I have to go. I try to get out of it, but Gerardo and Miguel don’t let me, and I suspect Mr. Zimmerman has something to do with that. When my plane arrives, the memories roll over me. I’m back again in this breathtaking city. Along with Miguel and various other big shots from the Spanish branches, we get to the place where the conference has been organized at eleven o’clock in the morning. Once we’re there, I sit down beside Miguel, and the convention begins. I search for Eric in the crowd of attendees, and I spot him. He’s in the first row, and my heart sinks when I see him next to Amanda. That bitch!
As always, they look as if they work very well together, and when Eric walks up to the podium to speak in front of the more than three thousand attendees, I look at him with pride. I listen to everything he says and notice how handsome, really handsome, he is in that dark gray suit. When his speech is over and Amanda gets up next to him at the podium, I tense up. Eric has his hand around her waist. She’s obviously delighted and waves with victory on her face.
Miguel looks over at me. I gulp, but I try to smile. After that, a few servers start to pass out glasses of champagne and canapés. Sheltered between my Spanish companions, I can see everything. Eric draws closer, along with Amanda. Both greet the attendees, and I want to go running when I see him coming up to my group. With an enchanting but cold smile, he looks at us all. He doesn’t pay me any special attention, and when he greets me, his eyes barely dart across mine. He shakes my hand just like everyone else’s, and then he walks on to keep saying hello to the rest of the guests. Amanda’s gaze meets mine, and I see the mockery in her eyes.
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