Page 14 of Sombra
Three
Tavo - Puta madre
Iam not prepared for this.
When my family sent me to Madrid to pick up the American girl this morning, I’d anticipated meeting a scruffy student, like those who backpack through Europe wearing hiking boots and old T-shirts. Travelers moreinterested in experiences than style.
Not this woman.
A bombshell. Kim is a bombshell. I stifle a whistle at her delicious hourglass shape, which makes my blood rush through my veins.
I try to keep it under control. “Ready to get going?” I ask.
She’s smoothing down her clothes and her hair. “Yes! I can’t believe I’m here! Look! I’ve got the first mark on my passport!”Her short, polished fingernail points to a solitary stamp on the first page. Her hand shakes, perhaps from travel. “This is my first foreign country. Actually, it’s even my first airplane flight. I’m so glad to meet you!” Tucking her hands behind her elbows, she looks down, then rubs her forearms and twists her wrists.
Jesús, María, y José.As she’s talking, in a sweet, musical voice, allI think is,she’s going to live with me. If she gets this much joy from a plane ride, what would she be like with real pleasure? What would it be like to see her body with all the curves—those soft breasts and round hips—and to make her come alive with my tongue.
No.Stop.
With her dirty blond hair, wavy and parted on the side, she reminds me of my favorite beauty queen, MarilynMonroe. Kim’s hair is darker and her eyes are hazel instead of the actress’s famous clear blue, but they’re just as attractive and full of light.
Kim wears neat dark Levi’s and a short-sleeve, navy blue polka dot shirt. Pearl stud earrings adorn her earlobes, a silver heart necklace encircles her neck, and a tiny diamond ring flashes on her finger.
It’s on her left hand. Maybe anheirloom from her grandmother or something?
“Do you need anything before we go?” I ask as we walk away from the meeting area. “¿Un café? Do you need to change money?”
Her speech is rushed. “I changed money before I left. I’ll have to get a SIM card while I’m here, but I don’t want to do that right now. I just want to get going.” She spins around, wide-eyed. Her pretty face, evenafter traveling for so long, is scrubbed fresh and clean. Her skin’s so pale it’s luminous except when she gets a pink tinge on her cheeks as she looks up at me. And she has this upturned nose that makes me think she is kind of like aconejo, a rabbit—and a sensual mouth that makes me think other things.
Deep, dark other things. Things that I should keep away from her.
“Let’s hitthe street,” I say.
Her expression goes slack, gazing at me, then she recovers and nods several times, smiling. “Yes! Hit the road!”
Families reunite around us. Businesspeople in suits head for their hotel shuttles. Little kids run around adding to the noise. Suitcases roll on concrete, engines idle, people speak into cell phones, making arrangements to meet their loved ones. Itsmells like exhaust and jet fuel.
The commotion around the airport is not important to me because she takes all of my attention. She is a young fawn with new legs, unsteady and enchanting, yet determined. Like she knows she wants something, even if she doesn’t quite know what it is, or how to get it. But she’s moving forward, just the same.
I’m trying to walk with her bags and watchher at the same time without tripping over my feet.
Current status: I’m barely managing that feat.
As I proceed with Kim Brown through the clear, automatic doors of Madrid-Barajas airport, I watch her shiny spirit, which seems to expect something wonderful to happen at every turn.
“You-ah, did you have a good flight?” I ask, my insides reacting to the way the ends of her mouthpoint up.
“Yes, thank you. I thought I might get airsick, but I didn’t. They gave us these funny slippers. And a blanket. It was a long time in a plane to get here, but I liked it. I was too excited to sleep.”
“This way to my car.”
I’m obsessed with her every move, how her eyes sweep around and drink in the people around us, how her hands are animated, how she’s trying toform words in an unfamiliar tongue.
“So, um, ¿Cómo estás?” she asks, pronouncing every letter as she bounces next to me on the balls of her feet.Coh-moh-ess-tahss. Many of my friends say only about half the alphabet when they’re talking, sliding the letters together with a drawl.Co-mo-tah.
I stare at her and try not to laugh as we keep walking. She’s just too cute. “I’m fine, Kim.”She peers up at me, unsure of whether to be mad that I’m not answering her in Spanish, or grateful that she understood me and I understood her.
I want to understand everything about her.
