Page 72 of One Year Ago in Spain
She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “I don’t understand how you can forget to eat—because I literally write meals onto my calendar—but I like that you can be so into what you’re doing that it completely transcends basic needs.”
He smirked. “I don’t think my mom and sister would agree with your assessment of me, but thank you. That’s a very generous way of interpreting…me.”
“I think the world would be a better place if we all interpreted each other a little more generously.”
“Including ourselves,” Matías said.
They walked around the Palacio Real, through the wide-open plazas, and eventually made it to the Sabatini Gardens. Funny how it had originally been on Claire’s list of “things to do,” but it only happened when she didn’t plan for it. The sun was setting now, and a long reflecting pool mirrored the palace and the pastel sky like a deeply saturated watercolor. “It’s so beautiful,” Claire murmured, turning back and forth between the shimmering image in the reflecting pool and the actual Palacio Real and sky.
“This was one of the earliest scenes I painted when I was in grade school,” Matías said. “I didn’t know anything yet about mixing colors or technique, but I still remember how every brushstroke felt like magic, you know? At first, there was only blank white paper in front of me. But then I sketched out the shape of the palace and the long, rectangular pool and the silhouettes of the trees, and then I added paint—layers and layers of it until the paper was warped from the moisture and weight. It was a childish rendition of a Palacio Real sunset, but painting it was a pure experience.”
“Unfettered joy,” Claire said, thinking that that was also a perfect description for Matías himself.
“Well, that used to be my philosophy for what life should be,” he said as he started walking into the gardens. “But now I think that sometimes, guardrails are good.”
“Oh?” Claire followed him along the path.
“Yes. You cannot live in the pursuit of hedonism alone. You cannot run over everyone in your way and rearrange everyone else’s lives to suit your own.” He whacked lightly at a hedge. “There must be compromise.”
Vega,Claire thought.
“But joy and hedonism aren’t necessarily the same things,” she said. “I think you can shoot for unfettered joy while still being responsible.”
Matías thought that over as they continued deeper into the gardens toward a large fountain. “Perhaps you’re right. But it is like playing with fire. If you are going to do it, you should be sure to have some water nearby.”
Is that what I am?Claire thought.The water to his fire?Maybe he and Vega had both been flames, and two together eventuallyburned out of control. Maybe that was why, when Matías moved to New York, he had been drawn to someone as reined in as Claire.
I am an excitement killer,she thought.Awesome.
And yet it was the closest she’d come to a reason why someone like Matías would be with someone like her.
When the sun dipped below the horizon, Claire asked, “What are we going to do next?”
Matías wrinkled his forehead. “What do you mean?”
“You said you were going to show me Madrid at night. And now it’s dark; therefore, officially night.”
“Ah, excellent point. Well then, let’s see. Are you hungry?”
“No!”
She couldn’t let Matías take her to a restaurant. What would he do, eat ghost food while she ate real food? But even if he didn’t notice that he wasn’t actually eating, it wouldn’t escape his notice that she was only ordering enough food from the waiter for one person. She certainly wasn’t going to order an entire bottle of wine just for herself.
And oh god, even the moment of walking into the restaurant, if the host asked whether she was a party of one…
“That was very emphatic,” he said. “But are you sure? I thought I heard your stomach growling back by the hedge maze. We could stop for tapas.”
“I’m not hungry at all,” she lied.
No dinner. Absolutely not.
“Okay, if you’re not hungry,” he said, “have you ever seen flamenco?”
She shook her head.
“Perfect. I know the best theater.”
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