Page 38 of Tell Me What You Want, Or Leave Me

“Lemon?” whispers Eric. “How refreshing!”

I can’t help it and just crack up; Eric does too. We kiss.

“Oh, Cuchu, love is so beautiful when it’s mutual,” says my sister, rocking baby Lucía in her arms.

But that comment, said with just a trace of longing, saddens me. I’d really love it if Raquel would meet somebody and start her life over again. She needs to. She is the kind of woman who really needs a man by her side to love her and make her happy. And that man is not my father.

The days pass, and we have a splendid time in Jerez. Juan Alberto has meetings with various companies in Andalusia and happily reports that he sees possibilities for his business in the region. During this time, I notice how he looks at my sister. He’s clearly interested, and I’ve also picked up that he’s getting along very well with my niece. Frankly, it’s hard not to get along with Luz; she’s so easygoing that the minute you pay attention to her and play her games, she loves you for the rest of your life.

Obviously, Raquel knows exactly what’s going on, and I’m surprised when the days go by and she doesn’t mention it. But, as I always say, my sister is my sister, and she finally opens up one afternoon when just she and I are sunbathing by the pool at my father’s house.

“Juan Alberto is handsome, isn’t he?” she asks.

“Yes.”

I wait...If she wants to talk about it, I’m ready, but she takes her time.

“He seems well educated, don’t you think?” she says after a few minutes.

“Yes.”

I smile. She looks at me sideways.

“What do you think of him as a man?”

“He’s good-looking.”

“Do you know what he said to me the other day when we were all going out to dinner?”

“No.”

“Do you want to know?”

“Of course...tell me.”

Graciela joins us at exactly that moment, and I imagine my sister’s going to shut up, but, to my surprise, she goes on.

“The other night, after we’d had a few drinks and were on our way over to your house, he looked me in the eye and said, ‘You’re like a delicious cappuccino: sweet, hot, and you make me nervous.’”

“He said that?” I ask, surprised.

“Yes, that’s an exact quote.”

“Well...that’s kind of sweet, don’t you think?”

Raquel nods. “Yes, it’s rather elegant actually, like him.”

We’re quiet, but I know her, this peace won’t last long. In less than two minutes, she sits back up.

“Now every time he sees me, he says, ‘Sabrosa!’”

“Sabrosa?” asks Graciela as she sits up too. “In Mexico, that’s like saying you’re really hot, or I’d eat you up right here and now.”

“Seriously?” asks Raquel, who’s now blushing. Graciela nods.

I try not to laugh. My sister is trying to keep it together—that’s new. Suddenly, she punches me on the arm.

“All right, enough! I can’t keep pretending I don’t like that handsome Mexican. He’s got the face and voice of a soap opera star, and whenever he says ‘sabrosa’...oh, Cuchu, I feel it all over my body. And now that I know what it means...oh God, that’s hot!”

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