Page 76 of Tell Me What You Want

“Of course, sweetness. Part of my business is in Spain.”

“So what’s so important that it’s made you interrupt your stay?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer.

“It’s a woman,” I say, “isn’t it?”

“No.”

“Then?”

“I have obligations I can’t ignore, so I have to go back.”

I look up at the treetops. It’s windy, and I love how they move. They relax me. Eric’s head interrupts my line of vision. He kisses me.

“Jude ...,” he says as he pulls away.

“It’s OK. I know I ask too many questions.”

“Jude, listen to me, please.”

His tone makes me look at him anew.

“Promise me you’re going to go on with your life like it was before I showed up.”

I’m about to respond, but he puts his hand over my mouth to stop me.

“I need you to promise me you’ll go out with your friends and have a grand time. And that includes getting together with that guy you disappeared with into the bathroom at that bar, and with the guy from Jerez, Fernando. I want what’s happened between us to be just that, something that happened and nothing more. I don’t want you to give it importance and ...”

“Wait a minute,” I say. I take his hand brusquely off my mouth. “Where’s all this coming from?”

“It’s part of the conversation we had at your apartment.”

When I recall our talk, my anger rises.

I’m about to get up, when he sits on top of me, legs on either side, and pulls my hands above my head to immobilize me.

“I need you to promise.”

“But, Eric, I ...”

“Promise!”

I don’t understand what’s going on. But there’s an incredible determination in his eyes.

“Fine,” I say. “I promise.”

His face relaxes. He lowers himself to me and tries to kiss me. I move my face away.

Eric lets me go and lies down beside me. We don’t talk. Instead, we look at the treetops. A few minutes later, he takes my hand and squeezes it.

An hour later, his cell buzzes. It’s Tomás. He’s waiting for us at El Retiro, in front of the Alcalá Gate. We walk through the park, holding hands, mute, until we reach the car. When he sees us, Tomás opens the door and we climb in. Inside, I notice Eric’s pensive. I want to know what he’s thinking, but I don’t want to ask. When we get to my apartment, he takes my lamp out of the bag, hands it to me, and gives me a soft kiss on the lips as he moves the hair from my face.

“Whenever I look at it, I’ll think of you, sweetness,” he whispers.

This is goodbye.

If I try to talk, I’ll cry, and I don’t want him to see me crying. I finally smile. He closes the door and drives off.

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