“No. Nothing,” said Pedro, sitting down on the sofa, suspicious and with a certain insecurity but obviously happy to make sure of so positive a change that had come over me. Also happy to be in this house again? “It wasn’t anything. I’m okay. Thanks.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, yes ...”
I tried to bring back his confidence with my gestures and words, although at the same time I was making an effort not to be effusive.
“Then you’re all right?”
“Yes. Really.”
“I’m glad.”
We both remained quiet briefly, looking each other timidly in the eye. I felt a desire to kiss him, to bring my lips to that beloved mouth, but I held back.
“Well,” I said, getting up, “it’s time to eat. I don’t have much, but I suppose I could fix something. I’ll take a look in the fridge. You’re hungry, aren’t you? How would it be if, while I make supper, you set the table? Okay, I’ll spread the tablecloth. I don’t want you to force that hand. But you can carry the place settings, the bread and the glasses. Do you think you can?”
“Yes, yes. Of course.”
“Good.”
“Do you want to have a drink first? Why don’t we have a drink?”
“Okay ...”
“It seems a little cold in here. I’m going to put the heat on. Do you want to turn on the television? I’d like to hear the King’s message. Maybe I’m silly, but I like to hear all those nice things that he says at Christmas. Please, make yourself comfortable. May I help you off with your jacket?”
“Yes. If you like ...”
“Well, not yet, It’s still a little chilly. I don’t want you to catch cold.”
I poured two glasses of whisky with ice cubes and water and put one of them in Pedro’s left hand. Next I sat by his side on the sofa, and we struck both glasses together. “Now. Now is the moment to kiss,” I said to myself, but I held back.
“Merry Christmas!”.
“Merry Christmas!”
“Hey, we’re missing a tree here!” said Pedro, quickly recovering confidence in himself, after taking two swallows of whisky. “We should put up a tree! Is that plastic tree we bought last year still in the box?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Why don’t we put it up?”
“If you want ...”
We both remained unexpectedly quiet for a few seconds, without knowing what to say.
“I’ve missed you so much,” said Pedro finally, with his eyes glued to his glass.
“I missed you too,” I said, looking at my glass the same way. “Are you going to tell me what happened to you?”
“Maybe. But later ... after a while.”
“All right.”
We stayed quiet again, looking toward our glasses.”
“Well, let’s go get the tree!” I exclaimed, after taking another swallow of whisky. “Where would I have put that damned box? I think ...”
“Now. Now we’re going to kiss,” I thought. “It’s time to kiss. We would have to kiss now.”
“Don’t worry,” said Pedro, intentionally rubbing his hand against mine. His mouth also got closer and closer to mine. “I’ll look for it. Okay? You fix the supper. Meanwhile, I’ll set up the Christmas tree.”
Benidorm, April 15-September 16, 2002
[email protected]
* * *
[1] Figures extracted from the daily newspaper El País, April 7 and August 18, 2002 (author’s note)
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