Page 50 of Sombra
Ten
Kim - Not bad
An evening breeze kisses my bare arms. I shiver next to Tavo, who, despite being in a conversation with his friend Sergio, is so attuned to me that he notices the tremor passing up my spine. With a skillful movement, he takes his brown suede jacket,which smells delicious like him, and drapes it over my shoulders, warming me up right away. While there’s disappointment in his dark eyes, he nevertheless gives me a half smile because he can’t help but be a gentleman. It’s the kind of smile that apologizes and encourages at the same time.
Dammit.
I need to stay away until I talk to Shane. And yet all day I’ve been pulling myselfcloser and closer to Tavo as we toured the city of Granada. We registered for classes, got me a Spanish SIM card, then he acted as tour guide showing me the Cathedral and the famous Alhambra, a fortress on the hill. Wandering through the beautiful old city, we didn’t touch, didn’t hold hands, but as we moved we remained close to each other almost as if we couldn’t help ourselves, like we needed tobe as close as we could get without crossing any lines. I snapped a million pictures with my phone, finally having a subject that inspired me. Not just the spectacular and ornate buildings. Tavo ended up in a lot of my pictures “accidentally on purpose,” his chiseled face clicking into place in the old world surroundings.
Maybe I want to remember this moment when I return to the UnitedStates.
Maybe I wish I would’ve resolved everything with Shane.
Maybe I can’t believe Tavo’s real. Like my dream, he doesn’t really exist in my life. I take a picture to remind myself when I’m old and gray that I had this moment, just for a while, where life was beautiful. I’m compelled to keep him for myself, a secret memory that I’ll tell no one for the rest of my life. I’ll justlock him inside my heart, sealed off.
It’s hard to think of shutting him off, though, when I’m wedged so close to him I can’t get out without touching him, nor do I want to move from this position. Ever.
We’ve met up with friends of his at a bar who all attend or teach at theUniversidad de Granada, where I’m about to start. We’re outside in a sparkling night. This large table’scrowded with little glasses of beer, elegant stems of red wine, shiny plates of olives, cured Serrano ham on blue and green pottery plates with slices of white Manchego cheese, and sliced baguette-style bread in the middle on a basket. Every once in a while the exhaust of a scooter punctuates the night full of the sounds of people laughing and talking and distant music. Something garlicky is cookingnext door. I’ve slipped way too many pieces of Manchego past my lips, enjoying the almost crunchy texture. And watching.
The city comes alive in the evening. Granada is much larger and more cosmopolitan than I thought it would be. At this table, a din of English and Spanish assaults my ears with everyone changing easily between them since they all study languages. I’m smiling and tryingto follow the conversation of someone, anyone, and failing miserably. So instead, I tuck myself more into Tavo’s jacket and sip my wine.
Other than the fact that I’m tempting myself by sitting too close to Tavo, I don’t want to be anywhere else on Earth.
Especially not after three glasses of wine.
I don’t know anyone else at the table. There’s a group of Spaniards at the endwho appear to be students, including a black haired, pretty girl named Sonia who’s shooting come-hither eyes at Tavo and daggers at me. It’d bother me if I weren’t snug next to him and if he seemed interested, but he’s taking no notice of her. Still, it’s disconcerting, since everyone else is friendly.
Sitting across from us is Trent, Tavo’s friend, and his teacher girlfriend?—partner?—wife?—Dani,although Trent never takes her classes. They have matching tattoos on the same finger. Trent’s drop-dead gorgeous, with longish sandy hair and nice tattoos. Dani curls up next to him, and she’s a total pixie—and immediately my friend. A teacher named Louise, who Dani calls Lulu, sits next to her, regal and serene. It’s clear that Dani adores her. Wyatt, another professor, nurses a beernext to Lulu, sitting close. And there are at least three or four more professors, plus some others.
“Want to know the difference between Spanish and English?” The speaker, a Spanish professor named Diego, asks me this question out of nowhere. He’s in his early thirties, and he perked up and kept bringing me into the conversation once he learned I’m in his class. He lights a cigarette andtakes a drag. I’m not used to people smoking, but out here in the open air it doesn’t bother me.
“What’s the difference?” I respond, as I take a drink.
“This should be amusing,” mutters Trent, his big blue eyes shining in the street lights and low glow of the candles on the table.
Tavo puts his arm around the back of my chair. I shouldn’t like his arm so close, but I do. AndI’m not moving it. Here I am again letting him get closer when I should push him away.
But I don’t want to.
Sonia has manufactured venom in her eyes. It’s good that she’s too far away to hear, given all the chatter, but she’s whispering into the ear of a companion. I continue to attempt to forget her.
Diego, the professor, answers his own question. “A Spaniard will watch amovie and at the end say that it was ‘estupendo, magnífico, maravilloso, fantástico.’”
“Stupendous, magnificent, marvelous, fantastic?” I offer. Finally, I understand an entire sentence in Spanish.
“Muy bien.” I receive an approving nod from the professor. “Someone who speaks English will walk out of the movie and say, ‘Not bad.’”
“Okay.”
“But they mean the same thing.What isfantásticoto a Spaniard isnot badto an American.”
Dani giggles and adjusts herself against Trent’s side. “Diego’s right. We understate things in English. In Spanish, they are effusive.”
“That’s interesting,” I say. And I mean it.
Am I falling under the seduction of Tavo because I’m misinterpreting things? Is he being effusive, and because I’m used to understatementI think I’m something special?
Is this just a difference in cultures?
