Dexter and Graciela continue their honeymoon phase. They haven’t gotten married, but I’m sure it won’t be long before they do.
After seeing Juan Alberto’s express wedding to my sister, Dexter’s mother can only dream about her son’s nuptials. I know she’ll get her wish, and we’ll be there, as their friends, to accompany them.
Flyn and Luz continue with their mischief. What one of them doesn’t think up, the other one does. They loaded the wedding cake with a firecracker and were saved from being punished because it exploded in the kitchen and not in the living room. I can’t even imagine what would’ve happened if it had burst in front of Raquel and her new husband. I laugh just thinking about it.
My child, my precious baby, my little Eric, is passed from loving arms to loving arms during the wedding. Everyone wants to cradle the beautiful little boy, and he loves it. He doesn’t cry, so I’m able to enjoy my sister’s wedding with my love, the most wonderful man in the world who loves me madly.
Of course, we still argue. We’re still like night and day, and when one of us says white, the other says black. But as Malú sings in our song, we give each other love, and we give ourselves life. Without him, my life would no longer make sense, and I know it’s the same with him.
At the end of August, after spending several days in Jerez, Eric and I, together with Simona and Norbert, the little ones, and the dogs, return home. Some respite before starting the school year and going back to work is good for us.
Surprisingly and without my prompting, Eric asks me if I’ve considered working for Müller again. Honestly, I’ve thought about it, but now with my little one, I don’t want to. I know I’ll go back in a while, when he goes to preschool, but for now I want to stay home with him and enjoy it before he grows up, goes out with girls, looks at dirty magazines, and smokes joints, as my sister says.
Knowing my decision, Eric smiles and nods. It makes him happy.
One morning in September, we go out with our two boys to walk around Munich. It’s a good day, and we want to take advantage of it. We’re a family, and we’ve planned a surprise for Flyn.
Ever since little Eric came home, Flyn calls us Mom and Dad. His happiness is ours, and, on more than one occasion, we’ve had to hide so he doesn’t see us get excited like two fools when we see them together.
When we park the car, the four of us walk around until we reach Kabelsteg bridge, where our lock is hanging. Eric and I walk hand in hand, while Flyn guides the stroller with his brother.
“Wow, so many locks!” he says, surprised.
Eric and I look at each other and grin. After locating ours, we stop.
“Look, Flyn,” I say. “Look at the names on this one.”
“Is that you?” he asks, amazed.
“Yes, it’s us,” I answer, bending down to his height. “This is one of Munich’s love bridges, and Eric and I wanted to be part of it.”
Flyn nods.
“What do you think?” Eric asks.
He shrugs.
“All right, well, if it’s a love bridge, it seems good your names are here.” He looks at the other locks. “Why are there smaller locks attached to the bigger locks?”
Crouching next to us, Eric explains. “Those smaller locks are the fruit of the love of the big locks. When couples have children, they include them in that love.”
Flyn nods.
“So, we’ve come to put a love lock here for little Eric?”
I shake my head, and then my love, taking out two smaller engraved locks from his pocket, shows them to Flyn.
“We’ve come to hang two locks. One that says ‘Flyn’ and another that says ‘Eric.’”
He blinks.
“That one has my name on it?”
I smile and hug him.
“You’re our son in the same way Eric is, darling. If we don’t hang two more locks, our family won’t be complete. Don’t you agree?”
He nods.
“Wow.”
Eric and I smile, give him the locks, and explain how to put them on our lock. After we all kiss the keys, we throw them in the river.
My man looks at me and winks. We’ve always been a family, but now we’re more. Fifteen minutes later, while Flyn runs in front of us and I guide the stroller, I ask, “Are you happy, honey?”
Eric—my love, my Iceman, my life—presses me closer to him and kisses me on the head.
“More than you could ever imagine. With you and the children, I have everything I need in my life.”
I know; he lets me know every day.
“Oh, but not everything, no.”
Eric looks at me.
I press the stroller brake and hug him around the neck.
“I have everything I want, sweetheart. What do you mean?”
“There’s one thing you’ve always wanted, and I haven’t given it to you yet.”
Surprised, he wrinkles his brow.
“What?”
Trying to keep from laughing, I kiss him. Eric’s delicious. I adore him.
“A little dark-haired girl,” I whisper, just inches from his mouth.
He’s blown away.
He’s speechless, breathless.
He goes pale.
I crack up laughing.
“Are you going to drive me nuts with your hormones again?”
I playfully slap his ass.
“Don’t worry, Iceman. You’re safe for now.”
I kiss him.
“But you know what,” I say, “maybe someday . . .”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2015 Carlos Santana
Megan Maxwell is the prize-winning author of Now and Forever and Tell Me What You Want. She credits her success to a stubbornness that kept her knocking on editorial doors for years until her first novel was published in 2010 and became the winner of the International Prize for the Romantic Novel in 2011. Since then she has published dozens of novels, including romance, erotica, historical fiction, and time-travel tales, and she has won many more accolades. She is a great dreamer who believes that to dream is to live. Born in Nuremberg, Germany, Megan has lived her life in and around Madrid, Spain.
ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR
Photo © 2017 Megan Bayles
Achy Obejas is the author of The Tower of the Antilles, a nominee for a PEN/Faulkner Award for Fiction; Ruins; and Days of Awe. She has also written for a number of publications, including Vanity Fair, the Washington Post, the Advocate, Playboy, and Ms. As a translator, Achy has worked with Wendy Guerra, Junot Díaz, Rita Indiana, and many others. In 2014 she was awarded a USA Ford Fellowship for her writing and translation. Born in Havana, she now lives in the San Francisco Bay Area. For more info, visit www.achyobejas.com.
Tell Me What You Want—Or Leave Me Page 34