Now and Forever

by Maxwell, Megan

  While they greet the others, I watch how Eric puts his hand around Amanda’s waist again and they take photos. At no point does he make a move toward me. It’s as if we’d never met. Without blinking, I watch how he takes photos with other women, and I get goose bumps when I see Eric say something to one of them, looking at her lips. I know what that look means, and what it can lead to. My neck itches. The hives! Jealousy is starting to get the best of me. When I can’t take it anymore, I look for a way out. I have to get out of here one way or another. As I push open a door, someone takes me by the hand. I turn around with my heart accelerating, and I see it’s Miguel. For an instant, I thought it’d be Eric.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need some air. It’s really hot in here.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  When we finally exit, Miguel gets out a pack of cigarettes, and I ask him for one. After the first few drags, my body starts to calm down.

  “Are you all right, Judith?” asks Miguel.

  I nod and smile, trying to be the same bubbly girl as always.

  “Yes, it’s just so hot.”

  Miguel nods. I know he sees through me, but I don’t want to talk about it. After the cigarette, I suggest we go back in. I have to be strong, and I know I have to show my resilience to Eric, Amanda, Miguel, and everyone else.

  With steady steps, I go back to the Spanish group and try to participate in their conversations, but I can’t. Every time I turn around, Eric is close, flattering some other woman.

  Two hours later, I’m in one of the restrooms when I hear a woman say big-shot Eric Zimmerman told her she’s really cute. I can’t help it; I look over at her. She’s a massive bimbo. An Italian girl with huge breasts, luscious curves, and copper-colored hair. She looks flustered, and I know why. Eric’s saying something like that with his eyes on you is enough to fluster anyone.

  When I leave the restroom, I cross paths with Amanda. The harpy looks at me and winks, amused. I feel an unstoppable urge to snatch her by her blonde hair and drag her across the floor, but no. I’m at a convention; I have to be professional, and, above all, I promised my father I wouldn’t behave that way again.

  I’m surprised when I find Eric talking to our group. Beside him is a brunette beauty from the Seville branch who’s almost drooling as he talks. Eric, aware of his magnetic effect on women, jokes around with her, and she, like an idiot, touches her hair and moves nervously. I close my eyes. I don’t want to see them. But when I open my eyes, they meet Eric’s.

  “Miss Flores can take you to the party. She knows her way around Munich.” I raise my chin, and Eric hands me a card. “I’ll see you all there.” And then he walks away.

  Everyone looks at me and asks me how to get to the place the big boss has mentioned. I look at the card, and after I remember where the party venue is, we head toward the bus that will take us to the hotel where we will stay until night falls and it’s time for the event.

  Back in my room, I take the opportunity to shower. I’m very tense. I don’t want to go to the party, but I can’t blow it off. And Eric has already made sure I won’t. After drying my hair, I hear some slapping sounds and some gasping. I listen closely, and after a minute, I smile. The next room is Miguel’s; from what I can hear, he’s having a good time.

  I hit the wall a few times, and the gasping stops. I don’t want to hear them! I put on a black dress with rhinestones around the waist. I slip into some high heels and pull my hair back into a high bun. When I look at myself in the mirror, I smile. I know I’m sexy. Surely Eric won’t look at me, but my looks will draw the eyes of other men.

  At least that’ll lift my spirits, right?

  At nine o’clock, after having dinner in the hotel, we all meet up in the lobby. As I expected, everyone is looking for me to take them to the spot the big boss mentioned. After talking to the bus driver, we plunge into Munich traffic, and I smile as we pass by the English Garden. I look fondly at the places where I used to take walks with Eric, where I was happy during a lovely time in my life, but I’m snapped out of my memories when the bus reaches its destination and we have to get off.

  The venue is huge, and, as expected, Mr. Zimmerman has prepared a colossal party. Everyone claps. Miguel is amused.

  “Good evening.”

  When I raise my eyes, they meet Eric’s. He’s stunning in his black tuxedo and bow tie. Oh my God, I’ve always wanted to make love to him while he’s wearing just that bow tie. So hot! I quickly shoo the idea out of my head. His coldness is extreme. My heart flutters, and my stomach contracts until I see the person by his side is the Italian redhead from the restroom. Goddamn it!

  Without changing the look on my face, I say hello, and he carries on with her. I don’t want him to see what his presence is doing to me, but the truth is he totally crushes me. It’s clear Eric has moved on with his life, and I have to accept it.

  I walk over to the bar and order a drink. I’m thirsty. For an hour, Miguel is by my side. We laugh and comment on things until the music starts. They’ve hired a swing band. I love it! People start dancing, and Miguel decides to take Hurricane Patricia out on the floor.

  I’m left alone, and while I sip my drink, I look around. I haven’t seen Eric again, but suddenly I spot him dancing with the Italian girl. That bothers me. Song after song, I witness how all the women want to dance with him, and he accepts, delighted.

  Since when is he such a dancer?

  I’m supposed to be the crazy dancer, and here I am, clinging to the bar. Shit! It’s when I see him dance with Amanda that I really get mad. I can’t stand the look on her face and how she holds him possessively around the neck while she moves her fingers and strokes his hair.

  I turn around. I can’t keep watching. I go to the ladies’ room, freshen up, and return to the party.

  I run into Xavi Dumas, from the Barcelona branch, and he asks me to dance. I accept. Then several other men ask me, and my self-esteem returns. Suddenly, Eric is beside me, and he asks my companion for permission to dance with me. My companion concurs. Me, not so much. When he puts his hand on my waist and I put my arms around his neck, the band plays “Blue Moon.” I gulp and dance.

  “Are you having a good time, Miss Flores?”

  “Yes, sir,” I say flatly.

  His hands burn on my back. My body reacts to his touch, his closeness, and his scent.

  “How’s life?” he asks again in an impersonal tone.

  “Fine,” I manage to say, “lots of work. And yours?”

  Eric smiles, but his expression is twisted as he leans in close to my ear.

  “Excellent. I’ve started playing again, and I must say, it’s much better than I remember. By the way, Dexter gave me some souvenirs for you the other day, for his hot goddess.”

  I try to pull away from his arms, but he doesn’t let me. He squeezes me against him.

  “Finish dancing with me, Miss Flores. Then you can do whatever you like. Be professional.”

  Everything itches, but I don’t scratch.

  I endure being pulled around, looking into his surly expression, and when the song ends, he gives me a cold and gallant kiss on the hand.

  “As always, it’s been a pleasure to see you again. I wish you the best.”

  His nearness, his words, and his coldness have wounded my soul.

  I go to the bar and order a Rum and Coke. I need it. After that, I drink another, and I try to be as professional and cold as he is. I’ve had the best teacher. Eric Zimmerman won’t get the best of me.

  I watch him, incensed, while he enjoys himself with the women. They all fall at his feet, and I know who he’s leaving with tonight. Not with the Italian. With Amanda. Their eyes show it.

  I hate them!

  At one o’clock in the morning, I decide to ditch the party. I can’t take it anymore! Miguel has left with his own sexual hurricane, and some other guy is bothering me.

  Out on the street, I take a deep breath. I catch sight of a taxi and fla
g it down. I give the address and, in silence, I return to my hotel. I walk up to my room and take off my shoes. I hear gasping in the room next door. Miguel and his hurricane.

  I sigh. They’re going to give me quite a night.

  I sit in bed and cover my eyes, and the tears finally come. What the hell am I doing here? The panting from the room next door gets louder. Ugh! Finally, pissed off, I slap the wall twice. The gasping stops, and I shake my head.

  Seconds later, they knock on my door, and I feel my chest get warm. I’m such a party pooper! It must be Miguel coming to apologize. I smile, and, when I open the door, I look into Eric’s scowling face. My expression changes.

  “Well, well . . . I see I’m not who you were expecting, Miss Flores.”

  Without asking permission, he walks into the room, and I close the door. I don’t move. I don’t know what he’s doing here. Eric turns around in the sitting area, and, after making sure I’m alone, he looks at me.

  “What do you want?”

  The Iceman looks at me—looks at me hard.

  “I didn’t see you leave the party, and I wanted to make sure you were all right,” he says indifferently.

  “If you came here to see who I’m playing with at the hotel, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t play with people from the company or when people from the company are nearby. I’m discreet. And as far as whether I’m all right, don’t worry, sir. I know how to take care of myself all on my own. So now that you know, you can leave.”

  When I say I play at other times, it stirs him up. I see it in his face. But before he can say anything that could make me even angrier, I take charge of the situation.

  “Get out of my room right now, Mr. Zimmerman.”

  He doesn’t move.

  “You have no right to come in here uninvited. Run along; I’m sure Amanda or one of your other women is eager to be the center of your attention.”

  Tension. Lots of tension.

  He moves toward me, and I move quickly away. I’m not willing to fall into his game, as much as my body needs it and screams for it.

  He swears and then, not looking at me, walks away in a rage.

  I’m left alone in the room. My heart is racing. I don’t know what Eric wants. What I do know is that when I’m alone with him, I’m not in charge of my own body.

  The night I get back from the convention in Munich, I decide I need to reclaim control of my life. I need to forget about Eric once and for all and find another job. I need to be myself again because, if things continue in this way, I don’t know what will become of me.

  When I get to the office the next day, I talk to Miguel. He doesn’t understand why I want to leave. He tries to convince me to stay, but he senses that what was going on between the big boss and me isn’t settled. He walks with me to Gerardo’s office, and, once there, I arrange my resignation.

  When I leave the office that afternoon, I grin. It’s the first day of the rest of my life.

  44

  It’s seven o’clock in the morning, and I’m still in bed when my phone rings. I look at the screen and don’t recognize the number. I pick up.

  “What have you done?”

  “What?” I ask, still dozy, not understanding a word.

  “Why did you resign, Judith?”

  Eric!

  Gerardo must have told him, and he’s livid.

  “For God’s sake, baby, you need the job! What are you trying to do? Where are you going to work? You want to be a server again?”

  Stunned by these questions, and especially by his calling me “baby,” I hiss, “I’m not your baby; never call me that again in your life.”

  “Jude . . .”

  “Forget I exist.”

  I hang up.

  Eric calls again. I hang up.

  I finally turn off my cell, and, before he can call my home number, I unplug the phone. Angry, I turn over and try to go back to sleep.

  Of course I can’t, so I get up, get dressed, and go out. I don’t want to be home. I call Nacho and go over to his workshop. For hours, I watch him draw tattoos while we talk. When it’s closing time, we call some friends and go out on the town. I need to celebrate the fact that I no longer work for Müller.

  When I get home, it’s three o’clock in the morning, and I’m terribly drunk. I go straight to bed.

  At ten o’clock the next morning, someone knocks on my door. With a gloomy look on my face, I get up to open it. It’s a courier with a precious bouquet of long-stemmed red roses. I know whom they’re from, and I try to refuse them, but the courier is hesitant. Finally, I accept them, but they go straight into the trash. Eventually the busybody in me looks for the little note that came with them, and my heart speeds up when I read it.

  Like I told you a long time ago, I always have you on my mind.

  I love you, baby.

  Eric Zimmerman

  Incredulous, I reread the note.

  I close my eyes.

  From that moment on, I can’t turn on my cell phone without getting a call from Eric. Exhausted, I decide to disappear. I know him, and within hours he’ll be standing outside my door. Over the internet, I rent a little country house in Llanes for a short stay.

  I call my father, but I don’t tell him where I am. I don’t trust him not to tell Eric should he call him. They get along too well. I assure him I’m fine, and he demands I call him every day so he’ll know I’m in good shape, and that I let him know when I get back to Madrid. He says we need to have a serious talk.

  For a week, I walk through the pretty little town; I sleep and I think. I have to decide what I’m going to do with myself after Eric. But Eric is so present in my mind, in my heart, and in my life that I can barely think at all.

  Eric is persistent.

  He fills my voice mail with messages, and when he sees I’m paying him no mind, he starts sending me emails that I read at night in my room at the precious house I’ve rented.

  From: Eric Zimmerman

  Date: May 25, 2013, 09:17

  For: Judith Flores

  Subject: Forgive me

  I’m worried, darling.

  I was wrong. I accused you of hiding things from me when I knew about your sister and didn’t tell you. I’m an idiot. I’m going crazy. Please, call me.

  I love you.

  Eric

  From: Eric Zimmerman

  Date: May 25, 2013, 22:32

  For: Judith Flores

  Subject: Jude . . . please

  Just tell me you’re all right. Please . . . baby.

  I love you.

  Eric

  Reading his emails excites me. I know he loves me. I know. But we can’t be together. We are fire and ice. Why try it again?

  From: Eric Zimmerman

  Date: May 26, 2013, 07:02

  For: Judith Flores

  Subject: Message received

  I know you’re angry with me. I deserve it. I’ve been an idiot (and an asshole besides that). I’ve behaved terribly, and I feel bad. I was counting the days to see you at the convention in Munich, and when I had you in front of me, instead of saying how much I love you, I behaved like a wild animal. I’m sorry, darling. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

  I love you.

  Eric

  I’m happy to know he wanted to see me at the convention, but he tried to make me jealous and it worked. He didn’t account for the results, and now I’m just too angry with him.

  From: Eric Zimmerman

  Date: May 27, 2013, 02:45

  For: Judith Flores

  Subject: I miss you

  I hear our songs.

  I think of you.

  Will you ever forgive me?

  I love you.

  Eric

  I also hear our songs with a heavy heart. Today, while I was eating at a little trattoria in Llanes, “You Are the Sunshine of My Life” by Stevie Wonder came on, and I remembered when he ordered me to get out of the car to dance with him in the middle of the street in Mu
nich. I love him, but I’m afraid. I’m afraid I’ll never stop suffering.

  From: Eric Zimmerman

  Date: May 27, 2013, 20:55

  For: Judith Flores

  Subject: You’re incredible

  Flyn just told me about the Coca-Cola and your fall in the snow. Why didn’t you tell me?

  If I loved you before, now I love you more.

  Eric

  I’m glad Flyn has finally opened up to his uncle. Way to go, kiddo!

  And Eric . . . I love him even more. Why is this happening to me?

  From: Eric Zimmerman

  Date: May 28, 2013, 09:35

  For: Judith Flores

  Subject: Hello, darling

  I’m at the office, and I can’t concentrate.

  I can’t stop thinking about you. I want you to know I haven’t played this whole time. I lied to you, baby. Like I said, you are my ONLY fantasy.

  I love you, now and forever.

  Eric

  Now and forever. What pretty words when he used to say them looking into my eyes. He’s my fantasy too. But we need to forget each other. What do I have to do to make us forget?

  From: Eric Zimmerman

  Date: May 28, 2013, 16:19

  For: Judith Flores

  Subject: I order you

  Damn it, Jude! I demand you tell me where you are.

  Pick up the damned phone and call me right now, or send me an email. Do it!

  Eric

  From: Eric Zimmerman

  Date: May 29, 2013, 23:11

  For: Judith Flores

  Subject: Good night, baby

  Forgive me for my last email. My desperation over your absence got the best of me.

  Today was a big day for Flyn. Laura invited him to her birthday, and he wants to tell you about it.

  Aren’t you going to call him either?

  I miss you and I love you.