Page 23 of Tell Me What You Want, Or Leave Me

She vanishes. I stay in the bathroom, well aware of all that comes with my period, until Graciela comes back. I don’t have cramps right now, but I know I’ll be doubled over in pain in a couple of hours.

When I come out of the stall, Graciela has a look on her face I recognize.

“What is it you want to know? C’mon, just ask.”

Red as a beet, Graciela lowers her voice. “Dexter goes to Germany a lot. Is there someone special there?”

Oh, poor girl. Now I understand her anguish even more. I want to hug her.

“If you mean a woman, no. There’s no one special.”

Her face changes. My answer has made her smile.

“It’s only taken me a few hours to realize how much you like Dexter.”

“Am I so easy to read?”

“Women’s intuition, Graciela. It’s almost always on point.”

We both smile, well aware of our sixth sense.

She is blushing a bright red. I’ve taken a great weight off her.

“Does he know?” I ask.

Embarrassed, she shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says. “I sometimes think he must, because of the way he treats me, but other times, I honestly don’t know if he even knows I exist. I liked him from the instant I saw him lying in bed. He reminded me of a Mexican singer named Alejandro Fernández. Do you know who I’m talking about?”

“Oh yes. He’s quite a hunk.”

“I used to work as a nurse in a hospital, and when his family offered me this job, I didn’t hesitate. It was a way of continuing to be near him. It was love at first sight for me. But I don’t think he’s ever noticed me. He treats me well, he is very proper about everything, but there’s nothing more.”

“He’s never insinuated anything?” I ask, surprised by Dexter’s professionalism.

“No.”

“Not even a little?”

“No, nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Absolutely nothing. And it’s not because I haven’t tried.”

I laugh. I can’t imagine Dexter avoiding sexual possibilities.

“Listen, Judith, I’m not made of stone, and I have my needs. But it’s clear he’s not attracted to me. I don’t exist to him.”

The wistful tone of her voice touches my heart.

“You’re not Mexican, are you?”

“I was born in Chile, in a beautiful place called Concepción,” she says with a smile. “But I’ve been working in Mexico for many years. My father was from here. I am a mix of Chilean and Mexican.”

I’m very sympathetic to this girl who has so sincerely opened up to me after hearing that Eric was my boss even though she barely knows me. She’s nice looking but totally asexual. The dress she’s wearing and the way she’s gathered her hair in a bun don’t do anything for her.

“Listen, Graciela, I don’t know if you know that Dexter can’t...”

Her eyes widen.

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