My heart stilled. I opened my mouth to speak, then shut it again.
“It is scary, isn’t it?” he asked.
I nodded. When I found my voice I said, “I told you. I was scared of deep space.”
He grinned. “And I told you I was too. What can I say, Vera, you make me want to reach for the stars.”
“That’s almost cheesy,” I said, trying to make light of the situation even though it didn’t feel cheesy to me. It felt terrifyingly real.
“Yes. But it is true.” He exhaled. “And now that we’ve managed to make each other depressed, I promise I will ask you no more questions for the rest of our time together.”
For the rest of our time together. I didn’t like the finality of that, the recognition that what we had would end, and soon.
“But I like your questions, even the hard ones.”
I like that you seek me out, that you have an excuse to talk to me, I finished in my head.
“Then perhaps I will surprise you with another someday. For now though, I think I need to take a siesta. Will you take one with me?”
I looked over to the clock on the microwave. “Dinner is in an hour.”
“Then sleep with me until dinner.”
I raised my brow. “Do you know how that sounds?”
He nodded. “Of course, it is why I said it.”
But where would I sleep? There was barely any room on the couch. I would be pressed up against him while he was in an extremely vulnerable state. I couldn’t do that, get that close to him. I didn’t trust myself.
I got to my feet. “It’s not the same unless we are under a tree,” I told him. “I need to go do a few things, take a shower and get out of these gross clothes. I’ll come back with dinner.”
“Leaving me so soon,” he said dramatically.
I laughed and walked over to the door. “Hasta la vista, baby.”
“No Spanish,” he muttered from the couch.
I stepped outside and closed his apartment door behind me. It was only then that I felt like I could truly breathe. I stood there for a few moments, getting all the air in and out of my chest. I took off for my place, rubbing my hands up and down my arms as if the temperature suddenly dropped. It wasn’t that, of course, but that some of my layers had started to peel away.
Later that night I went back to Mateo with dinner, a bundle of nerves as I held the plates of food. I didn’t know what was happening between us, or if he was still going to be in an emotional and truth-telling mood or if he was back to his carefree self.
A self that might have been a lie.
But I didn’t need to worry about that at all. When I came back with the food, Jerry was in there talking to him, as well as Marty or Mark. Mateo insisted that I stay with him and have dinner, so I did, but after that was done and Jerry started asking him about his time on Atletico, something that Mateo didn’t seem to mind talking about when he was on drugs, I decided to leave them all be.
Mateo had asked me just as I was leaving if I’d go with him to the doctor in Salamanca in a few days but before I could say yes or no, Jerry reminded him that I needed to work and do my job and that Peter would be happy to take him.
I couldn’t say I wasn’t relieved.
Chapter Fourteen
It took three days for Mateo to be able to walk again without needing a person or a crutch to lean on, and another two days for him to be able to do it with less of a limp. The tear in his knee was a grade one, which meant his recovery would be fast, and it was amazing to see him go from on the ground, writhing in pain, to walking slowly, but easily, everywhere in a matter of five days. He told me the doctor said it was because he kept himself in great shape and was still “young,” something that pleased Mateo quite a bit.
Because he was stationary for a lot of the time, he was often parked out by the reception patio in the wicker chairs, and while I had a session or a chance to talk to him every day, we weren’t going off on our long walks down country lanes or chatting on my balcony. There were always people around, which was fine…nothing to hide here. And yet I felt like we were hiding.
The weather had also turned to shit for most of the days, pounding the area with torrential rain which flowed down the hill in rivers and made a mess of everyone’s shoes. Jerry said that once it stopped, it wouldn’t rain for the rest of the summer.
I was holed up in Claudia’s apartment on the night the rain stopped, lazing around on the couch with Polly and Beatriz as we drank wine and looked over women’s magazines. I had brought a whole bunch with me from home and from London, and earlier in the day had done a one-on-one session with Eduardo that consisted of doing all the quizzes. Turns out that, according to Cosmo UK, Eduardo is an “attention slut.”
“I can’t believe we won’t be here next week,” Polly moaned despondently as she tossed a Glamour magazine at Beatriz. Beatriz was so enamoured with her Spanish gossip magazine, Diez Minutos, that she didn’t even look up when it hit her.
It took me a second to realize what Polly said. “Wait, what?”
She brushed back her bangs and gave me a lazy-eyed look. “Yeah. Think about it. This time next week, we’ll all be home.”
“Wow, time has really flown fast,” Claudia commented. She looked around her at all of us, her lips twisting wistfully. “I am going to miss you guys.”
I gave her an absent nod and murmured the same, but even though I really was going to miss them, miss everything about this place, I couldn’t quite handle the idea that I wouldn’t see Mateo again. This time next week, I would be on a plane back home. Home. I’d be back with my mom and Josh and Mercy and back to my own cold, dead universe, and I wouldn’t have Mateo to make me feel alive.
My chest constricted painfully. Just the thought of not seeing him ever again, not having this world that I clung to, was heartbreaking. All this time I had been keeping my distance because I didn’t want to get hurt, but it was already happening. The heart had no regard for time, no regard for pain.
I felt like I had to cling to every moment, every second, make it count. I feared it was already too late.
A gasp from Beatriz brought me out of my funk. I glanced over at her to see her reading her magazine with her mouth open. Her eyes immediately darted over to me.
“What?” I asked.
She made a clucking sound and showed whatever was in the magazine to Claudia and then to Polly. Polly made a little squeal but Claudia grimaced and then covered it up with an awkward smile.
“What is it?!” I asked again, louder. I started to reach across to snatch it from her but she handed it to me.
I took it in my hands, the front half of the magazine folded behind it, and stared. At first all I saw was a bunch of gibberish (aka Spanish) and a picture of pretty, smiling women eating food. But when my eyes fell to the bottom half of the page, I may have gasped too.
I may have nearly choked.
It was a picture of Mateo, taken at night with a flash. He was walking, an insincere smile on his startlingly clean-shaven face, wearing a slim silver-grey suit and tie. He was holding the hand of a woman. She was wearing a black sparkly shift dress that looked very expensive, had a wide toothy smile, great eyebrows, dark eyes, and short blonde hair.
Below them I recognized the word Mateo and Isabel Casalles and Sin Horquillas, which I knew was the name of his restaurant.
Just…holy shit. Kill me fucking now.
Not only was his wife very pretty, almost Scandinavian looking with her Mia Farrow haircut and high cheekbones, but…she really existed. She now had a face. She was real.