Текст книги "Love, in English"
Автор книги: Karina Halle
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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 26 страниц)
Chapter Sixteen
The rest of the day went by as usual even though it felt as if my whole life had changed. I coasted through the afternoon sessions, not listening, not seeing. I kept replaying that image in my head, over and over again, the one of us on the grass together, him on top of me, the impossibly blue sky behind him. If I imagined hard enough, I could still feel the heat between my legs, the feeling of him being inside me. It had felt right to have him in me, to have his body and skin in my hands like we were molded from the same clay.
Just before dinner he found me again, out on the lawn where I was sitting cross-legged in a daze and staring at nothing, trying to process all the emotions that had eluded me all these years.
Without saying anything, he held out his hand and lifted me to my feet. His hand around mine wasn’t enough anymore. I had been given all of him, free for the taking, and nothing less would do. But as much as I wanted to kiss him, hold him, take his clothes off and ride him, I couldn’t. Not now, not here. If the field was one universe for us, this was another.
“I thought perhaps you would like to have dinner with me,” he said with a smile. His eyes were shining bright, happy, and I wondered if he was putting on his best face or if he was coming to terms with the futility of us and just making the best of the time we had left.
I wanted to do the same but it involved pulling my heart out of the gutter.
“I don’t think I can imagine dinner without you,” I told him.
His eyes softened a bit, the corners of his lips falling. He nodded and dropped my hand, and then put his at the small of my back, guiding me toward the hall.
Now it really seemed that the seating allocations were gone. There were all Anglos at some tables and all Spaniards at another. Jerry was pouring himself a huge glass of wine with Wayne, not seeming to care at all.
As usual, Claudia was the seat saver and she waved us over to her and Ricardo.
When we first sat down, I was certain she was going to take one look at my face, one look at us, and deduce that we had sex. I felt it had to be obvious, like I was wearing a shirt that said, “I Fucked Mateo Casalles” and his said, “I Love Vera’s Vag.” But she didn’t. Claudia herself seemed very chipper and hadn’t even touched her wine yet.
“You’re in a good mood,” I noted, “considering we all have to say goodbye soon.”
“You are such a buzzkill,” she said.
Mateo’s brows quirked up as he poured me a glass of wine, always the gentleman. “Buzzkill? Like being happy or like a bee?”
I grinned at him. “Like someone is killing all your happy.”
He made a tsking sound. “Vera, that is terrible. Don’t be a buzzzzkill.”
“It is okay,” Claudia said. “Though true I will miss all of you terribly. I do not want to even think about it so let’s not think about it, okay?”
“Agreed,” I said.
She and Ricardo exchanged a gleeful look. “Ricardo,” she said slowly, staring at him with stars in her eyes before she looked back to us, “is getting his job to be transferred to Madrid.”
“Bye bye, Valencia,” he said with the widest smile.
“But Valencia is beautiful,” Mateo said.
“Yes, but Claudia is in Madrid,” was Ricardo’s answer. “It’s time for a change anyway and my lease is almost up. I think I will enjoy Madrid just fine.”
“Madrid is very nice, too,” Mateo conceded, almost quietly to himself.
Talk about a buzzkill. I know that Claudia’s good news was a joyous thing and I really, truly was happy for her. But the fact that they were able to be together, move for each other, just like that…it fucking stung. I could sense that Mateo felt the same way. He put his hand on my thigh and gave it a soft squeeze, all while smiling for the happy couple.
“That’s amazing news,” I managed to say, trying to match Mateo’s praise. “So happy for you guys.”
I never was a very good liar. Claudia could tell something was up and kept giving me the eye for the rest of the meal. When we were done, we all had to disperse to go meet with our presentation groups, but she pulled me aside and tried to get it out of me. I told her I was just sad in general and to leave it at that. I knew she thought I wasn’t telling the truth, but she was a good enough friend that she didn’t try and force it out of me.
The presentations were made by the Spaniards. My group consisted of me, Tyler (ugh), Jorge, and Eduardo, with me and Tyler only helping the others with their presentations that they’d have to give to everyone. Though they were encouraged to give presentations that had something to do with their job, they really had free reign to do anything, and Eduardo took advantage of that, trying to model his after the Cosmo sex quiz we did together.
His was called, “What kind of Las Palabras Spaniard are you?” and his presentation was pretty much going through the quiz and explaining to the audience how it worked. There was the “Sex Pest,” and he proudly said he fell into that category, the “Noisy Know-It-All,” the “Secretly Fluent One,” the “Butt Kisser,” the “Drunk Animal,” the “Caffeinated Crazy,” the “Anglo Challenged,” and the “Celebrity,” which I assumed was someone like Mateo. When I did the quiz, I got “Sex Pest,” too. Wish I could say it had been rigged.
Because each Spaniard was doing a four to five minute presentation, that meant we were held hostage in the rec room for nearly two hours. As much as I loved my Spanish friends, some of them were so damn boring that by the end I was falling asleep in my chair.
That was until I saw the second to last presentation: Mateo’s. I hadn’t really talked to him about it, you know, because of the sex happening and all that, so I had no idea what his was all about.
Lo and behold, I was shocked to pieces when he wiped the whiteboard on the wall clean and started pointing to people in the audience and asking them to name a constellation. Beatriz named Virgo, and he drew the exact stars for Virgo, including the lines connecting them. Angel named the Big Dipper and Mateo drew that. Ed told him to draw Orion, which was more complicated than you would think, and Mateo somehow drew it perfectly down to the arms that no one pays much attention to. As he drew, he told us about the stories behind each one of them, the actual myths behind their being. When he got to Leo, he started off by repeating my Lambert the Sheepish Lion story, before he chuckled to himself and quickly told the right one.
When he was all done, he put the marker down and faced us all, hands behind his back.
“For as long as man has been around, he has felt governed by the stars,” he said in a rich, teacher-like voice, making deep eye contact with everyone like a pro. “But I do not believe this to be true. The stars may place us in each other’s paths—I dare say that everyone here has been a victim of some sort of celestial fate. Perhaps we were all fated to meet, to be here with each other, but it is up to us to decide to shine or not. The stars are not unreachable. They are not untouchable. And they do not control us. I just took the concept of stars and made them my own.” He swung his arm, gesturing to the star-studded wall. “I just created my own universe in this room here. When we all part ways, I invite you all to do the same. Design your own universe, make your own stars, write your own stories, and create your own destiny.”
I was so stunned by what he had done, the knowledge he must have soaked up, the practice he would have had, that it took me a moment to notice that he had walked off the stage and everyone else had started clapping.
I snapped out of it. I stood up and started clapping really loud, trying to encourage more applause. I was met with a few curious stares. I guess people weren’t as moved as I was by the whole thing, but it didn’t matter. And as I saw Mateo take his seat a few rows ahead of me, I could have sworn his face had gone red, adorably embarrassed.
When it was all over and the last presentation was done, I pulled him aside, so close to reaching up and pulling his head down into a kiss. Somehow, I managed to refrain by digging my fingers into his arm.
“That was amazing,” I gushed, conscious of everyone walking past us, probably heading right to the bar.
He gave me a satisfied smile. “I am glad you thought so.”
“Where did you learn all of those?”
“I found a National Geographic in the stacks of magazines in the lobby,” he said. “I guess I wanted to impress you. Again. In a less painful way this time.”
I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. “Well, you did impress me. Both times.”
And hours ago, in the field, when you gave me the best sex of my life, I thought. I would have told him that if it wasn’t for Wayne who was hanging around in the background.
I looked over at Wayne and he gave me a sheepish smile. “So sorry to interrupt. Mateo! I thought perhaps we could finish what we started earlier.” He glanced at me. “Boring business stuff. You don’t mind, Vera?”
Of course, I fucking minded. The day was finally over and I had a million things I wanted to say and do to Mateo while I still had the chance to do them.
I could see Mateo was worried from the faint lines on his forehead, trying to figure out a way to either tell Wayne yes or tell Wayne no.
I sighed and put my hand on Mateo’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. I would make the decision for him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
His face fell, a look of being totally defenseless.
If Wayne noticed it, he didn’t care. “Thanks, Vera,” he said in his drawl.
I gave him a tight smile and hurried out of there and down the staircase of doom. Though everyone was in the bar listening to music, dancing, and laughing it up like there was no tomorrow, I decided I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t fake it. I went straight home, crawled into my boy shorts and tee, and slid right into my bed.
There was a tomorrow. And it was coming fast.
I lay on my back and stared up at the ceiling, the occasional laugh or note of music coming in through my open window. Moonlight dappled the walls and bathed the room in a cool grey blue. Too many feelings were making their way up through me, like tiny insects you couldn’t swat away. I hated that this was almost my last night in this bed, in this room that I had started to call my own. I was afraid of what life outside of Spain meant for me, what would happen when I got home, how I was going to keep feeling the life I had felt here when I would be so far away. I was jealous that Claudia and Ricardo had a chance to be together. I was lonely because I was lying in bed by myself and I knew that this was only the start of many more lonely nights.
And I was angry. I was angry, both that I had fallen for Mateo, and that I had fallen for him so late in the game. I was angry at how unfair life was, how it could present me a man that I felt a deep-souled connection to, but could never have him be fully available to me. I didn’t care what Mateo said about wanting to be with me. It could not happen and he was only trying to fool himself in thinking so. If he let himself realize how impossible it really was, he would feel this angry too.
I don’t know how long I lay there, letting the feelings bite and nibble at me until I was totally numb, but it was long enough to hear the party die down. And then to hear a knock at the front door.
I got up and cautiously opened my door, poking my head out, half expecting to see a party formed in my living room again. Instead there was only Sara in her robe, opening the door to reveal Mateo on the other side, shadowed in the night.
“I am sorry,” he apologized to her, though his eyes were already on me. “I came here to speak with Vera.”
Sara looked at me for my response, not saying anything. I gave her an imperceptible nod. She smiled weakly at the both of us and retreated back to her room.
I should have felt bad for him waking her up like that, but I’d never been so happy to see someone in my life. I stood in my doorway, my hands clenching and unclenching in anticipation as Mateo shut the door behind him. He was at me in five large strides. My heart felt like it had dropped five stories.
I slowed my nerves and stepped back from the door, letting him walk inside my room. I turned around to close it, and before I knew it, his hands were in my hair and around my waist, my body pressed up against his, his mouth hungry and seeking mine.
“Vera,” he growled into my mouth, his lips hot and tasting like cinnamon. “I couldn’t stay away.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” I said breathlessly, an understatement, my head falling back as he started to suck down my neck. His hands were under my shirt, cupping my breasts and feeling the weight of them, his thumbs rolling over my nipples, over and over again until the pressure between my legs was at capacity.
“I’m so fucking wet for you,” I told him, licking his ear. I wasn’t sure if he was one for dirty talk but I thought I’d try him out.
He didn’t even flinch. “Let me have a taste.”
He pulled my t-shirt over my head then let his thick tongue trail down my chest, over my breasts, down the center of my stomach. He got to his knees and, in the reverse of yesterday, pulled my booty shorts down until they were around my ankles and threw them across the room. He picked up my right leg and placed it on his shoulder. As I put one hand against the door for balance and one hand in his hair, he worked his tongue between my legs, slowly licking the insides of my thighs, teasing me. His beard was gorgeously rough against my sensitive skin, my nerves dancing at the abrasion.
Finally his tongue found me, just as wet as I told him. He lapped me up, his hunger still not satisfied. I was seconds away from coming when he pulled away. I stared down at his dark eyes at they burned up at me, his mouth glistening in the cool light.
“I want to get in deeper,” he said, his gaze not breaking mine. He got to his feet and then put his arms under my thighs and back, lifting me up into his arms. I let out a little squeal as he walked across the moonlit room and threw me onto the bed.
I landed on my ass, my breasts bouncing, and he grabbed me by my hips and roughly jerked me to the edge of the bed, my legs on either side of his head. God, I loved dominant Mateo as well.
He went back to work, lifting my ass up with his hands and holding me to his face. He pushed his long, thick tongue inside and started fucking me that way. My hands automatically gripped the sheets as my body tensed to keep myself from coming too soon, then relaxed once I thought fuck it.
As the ripples washed over me, my mouth opened wide in a silent moan, my head rolling from side to side. That orgasm nearly felt like a fucking exorcism and in the most beautifully out-of-body way. I had barely recovered when he came up over me and kissed me, the same tongue back in my mouth. I loved the way I tasted on him.
He leaned across my naked body for a few moments, brushing the hair off my face.
“Are you okay?” he whispered, his eyes searching mine.
I nodded. “I am now.” A slow smile crept across my face. “I thought that was going to be it. Just that once.”
He shook his head once and let out a quiet laugh. “No. No, not all. I am going to be with you until I can’t be anymore.”
My smile tugged down from a rush of melancholy. I reached up and touched his jaw, brushing along his beard with the backs of my fingers. “Seems a shame we couldn’t have started this up earlier.”
“Yes,” he murmured, kissing my forehead. “But good things take time. As much as I hate having so little of it with you like this, I wouldn’t have given up any of the other days. They all counted. They all brought me closer to you. They all showed me what I wanted.”
I put my hand behind his neck and pulled him closer to me, enveloping him in a kiss, sucking on his soft lower lip. I got his shirt off then he took off his pants and deftly rolled on a condom. With the moonlight streaming in behind him, he looked like a work of art, a silhouette of finely tuned grace and muscle.
The two of us lay on the bed as he turned me over on my side and pushed in from behind, one hand holding mine above our heads, our fingers laced together. He was right about Spaniards fucking and making love at the same time. It was hot and fervent, my body craving him insatiably, his grunts loud and animalistic in my ear. At the same time, it was intimate and safe, and each moment we were with each other, brought closer and closer to the edge, I felt myself falling and falling and falling in love with him.
When we came, we came together, and as the waves smashed through me, obliterating my reality for a star shining moment, I wished he wasn’t wearing a condom so I could absorb him into me. I still wanted more, wanted all of him.
I really was greedy.
We only slept for a few hours that night, after the moon disappeared from the sky. The rest of the time we were fucking, making love, exploring each other’s bodies in hopes that the night would never end.
But eventually the sun came up and a rooster from a distant farm reminded us that our last full day together was here.
* * *
The next day—the last day—was all about stealing time. In the early morning hours, Mateo kissed me goodbye and went back to his room. Even though Sara had seen us together, we still had to be discreet. She couldn’t quite prove anything just because she saw him drop by at night and go into my room (and maybe heard us doing it like animals), and even though I could tell it wouldn’t matter to Sara, it could matter to someone else.
So, on the last day, we had to pretend that there was nothing going on between us. It should have been somewhat easy to pretend; after all, I had been pretending one way or another for the last month. But it wasn’t. My skin felt bereft at the absence of his; my heart ached painfully when he was so close but so far. All we had were knowing looks across rooms and sly smiles to connect us.
It wasn’t really fair, the way things worked out. I was so wrapped up with the matters of my body and my heart for Mateo that I was missing out on the sadness around me. Maybe that was a good thing in the end, but everywhere I looked, I saw the quiet sorrow in everyone’s eyes, Spaniard and Anglo, at the impending farewell. We had all bonded so well and so hard that I knew everyone was hurting inside, feeling as if their lives weren’t going to be the same the next evening.
Each one-on-one I had was bittersweet. I had Beatriz, who was unusually emotional and kept wiping a tear away with her dainty fingers; Angel who wouldn’t stop talking about all the things he would miss; and Antonio, who kept on making me laugh with his knock-knock jokes, which in turn made me realize how much I was going to miss them.
At lunchtime, I sat with Mateo, Polly, and Eduardo. Halfway through the meal, Jerry stood up in the middle of the dining hall and sang us a song a cappella. It was shocking, actually, how well a dweeby goof like Jerry could sing, and made some of the tears around the room fall again. The song was in Spanish too, and Mateo told me it was a famous farewell song. I gathered that already from the hushed tones and the sweet, crystal sound.
It was hard not to continuously touch Mateo. I had to keep reminding myself where I was. Because our table was at the back of the room and we had our backs to the wall, we were able to hold hands under the table from time to time. It steadied me, to feel his skin, the pulse in his veins. It both reminded me that he was real and he was here now and that he’d soon be gone.
After lunch, Jerry cancelled the last free time and handed out pens and small pads of paper with the program logo on it. He told us we had a half an hour to go around the room and enter phone numbers into our phones, if we had them, or write down emails. Then afterward we would all go out on the lawn for a group picture.
With the pen in my hand I immediately looked up at Mateo. I tried to swallow. “I guess we should exchange information.”
He nodded, eyes glittering at me. “Of course.”
He wrote down his email and tapped it with his finger. “This is private.” He then wrote down his phone number. “iMessage will work overseas. You can text me anytime you want.”
That struck me like a hammer to the chest. Texting. We were going from seeing each other every day and fucking to seeing each other never and texting.
“It is going to be all right, Vera,” he said, his voice lower. “Remember my presentation that impressed you so.”
“You’re saying we can write our own destiny,” I said, feeling too jaded and stubborn in the moment to believe it.
“I am saying,” he said carefully, “that this is not the end of the story. Not the way I am writing it.”
“Hey, I’d love to get your guys’ info,” Eduardo said, walking over and interrupting us, “and Facebook if you have it.”
I took a step back from Mateo, conscious now that we may have been standing too close, and looked at him for his response.
Mateo gave him a tight smile. “I don’t have Facebook, if you can believe it. I’m too old for that.”
“I can believe it,” Eduardo said good-naturedly. Even though Mateo brought the joke on himself, I swear I saw a shadow pass over his eyes, darkening them.
I exchanged information with pretty Polly, who also seemed to be going through emotional turmoil, having to leave Eduardo and all, then went around the room, exchanging emails, Facebooks, and phone numbers. I talked to pretty much everybody.
Even Lauren.
I didn’t approach her and she didn’t approach me, but I ran into her when I was coming out of the women’s washroom. I was going to let it go, to just forget everything and leave this place without having to talk to her. But I couldn’t.
“Hey,” I said to her as she brushed past, ready to say something to put her in her place.
She slowly turned around and gave me a caustic look. But through her glitter-coated glasses, I saw her eyes were completely red and puffy, and the corners were wet with tears.
“Are you okay?” I asked, feeling an uncalled for bout of concern. I couldn’t help myself.
She sniffed and shook her head. Then, as if she remembered who she was talking to, her back straightened, her expression becoming hard. “Are you okay?” she retorted.
“No,” I said honestly.
She gave me a blasé look. “Well. Then you know.” She turned and pushed open the door to the bathroom. I could hear her muttering, “Of course, you could mind your own business,” to herself as she went.
Huh. I guess the Brony ended up having a sexual preference after all, and it was Lauren, the slut-shaming feminist. It seemed as if hearts were breaking all over the place. I thought back to the first piece of advice I had been given by Gabby when she dropped me off at the bus. “Don’t fall in love,” she had said. She knew exactly what happened in Las Palabras, every single program. It kind of made me wonder why this wasn’t a reality TV show.
Soon, when people’s emotions were more in check, we all gathered together on the lawn for the group picture. It was pure chaos. Eduardo, Angel, Sammy, and Froggy Carlos all lay down at the front like they were posing as centerfolds in a 70’s Penthouse, while the rest of us were all squished together, laughing, touching, hugging.
I had Claudia on one side of me and Mateo on the other. Mateo had his arm around me as if we were a couple. I felt my cheeks flame red for that picture and I was sure my smile was ridiculously huge. It wasn’t until the camera stopped clicking that I realized that Mateo also had his arm around Ed on the other side, to make things less suspicious, I guess.
It didn’t matter. We’d all been captured in a moment for the rest of time. That was the picture that I wanted on my wall, so I could stare at it whenever I felt lonely. I could look at it and remember that for one month out of my life, I had a family, I had friends, and I had love at my side. The exalted look on my face would say it all. Apparently it would be emailed to us all in a few days, and I was already anticipating the joy and pain it would bring.
The final business sessions were all cancelled and Jerry told us all we had free time to do whatever we wanted, as long as we were back for dinner at six. It was earlier tonight because there were a few special performances that some of the Spaniards wanted to do to thank the Anglos for all their hard work in teaching.
I felt it should have been the other way around—I wanted to do something for the Spaniards for teaching me about love and life.
But, I could always start with Mateo. As soon as Jerry announced the free time, we were gravitating towards each other, eager to get away for a few hours and just be together whatever way we could. We walked off up toward his cottage since I saw Sara and Nerea go back to my apartment. We checked his apartment, but Marty/Mark was there with a few other people, cracking open a few beers. They invited us to stay, but it just didn’t feel right.
So, we ended up going back down the road and to the dining hall. Mateo grabbed a few cushions off the chairs and waved them at me. “For old time’s sake,” he said. He took them over to the tree and threw them on the ground.
We may have not had enough privacy to do what we really wanted, but we at least had some.
We lay down, this time as close together as possible. With him on his back staring up at the sky, I rolled onto my side and propped my head up with my hand. I just wanted to stare at him for as long as I could, drinking in the features most people missed: How dark and long his eyelashes were, how they curled up at the ends, the silky shine of his black eyebrows, a tiny white fleck of a scar gracing his bronze cheekbones, the salt and pepper hair at his temples.
“Do you like what you see?” he asked me, rolling his head to the side to gaze at me.
I grinned. Butterfly wings beat against my heart. “Always.”
A soft moment passed between us. It was becoming dangerously sad again.
I cleared my throat, forcing myself to perk up. “Remember when you said you were going to ask me a question every day? And you said I could have my question at the end?”
He pursed his lips in mock contemplation. “I seem to recall something like that, yes.”
“Well, I have twenty questions for you. Right now.”
“No siesta for us?”
My smile was sly. “We can siesta tonight. In between…other things.”
He nodded. “That is fair. Ask away.”
And so I got my twenty questions and I got twenty answers. I asked him sexual questions like when he lost his virginity (fourteen, to Barbara Lopez, after school, behind the gym), if he’d ever had a threesome (twice, in his twenties, after football matches), the kinkiest thing he ever did (jack off while watching a teammate do a girl up the ass…apparently this was normal, back in the day), and the weirdest place he’d ever had sex (the Tibidabo Amusement Park in Barcelona).When I got too horny for the questions to continue, I switched to personal ones: his first pet was a golden lab called Pedro, his best subjects in high school were gym (of course) and history (very interesting), his favorite childhood memory was fishing off of Gibraltar with his father. Noting that he didn’t mention his mom, I asked him what her name was. It was Sandra, and she died of cancer when he was only three. His father eventually remarried, and his sister Lucia is only a half-sister.
“And your favorite memory?” I asked him, the questions winding down.
“My first favorite memory is the day Chloe Ann was born,” he said, smiling to himself. “I wasn’t allowed in the room with her, so I was just pacing outside all day in the hallway, losing my mind, going crazy. It was a long labor too. But when I finally saw that little red face…I couldn’t love her enough. I told myself that I would do whatever I could to make her happy, to keep her safe, no matter the cost to me. And I did.”
There was a despondent strain in his voice, his eyes gazing off into the distance. I watched him for a few beats, not wanting to say anything.
Finally he turned to me and said, “Do you want to know my second favorite memory?”
I nodded.
“This,” he said, gesturing to me. “All of this, all of you. Here.”
“I’m not a memory yet,” I whispered.
“But you will be. After tomorrow, all of this will be a memory.” His eyes held such soft sadness. “You and I, we were always a memory in the making.”
That gutted me. Hard. And it hurt because it was true. Suddenly I wanted nothing more than for him to whisper hopeful things in my ear, that somehow this could all still work. I could see the appeal in kidding ourselves.
“I wish I could kiss you right now,” I said softly, my hand itching to touch him.
“You could,” he said, his face serious. “And if there are any consequences, I will gladly suffer them.”
But I couldn’t. To carry on in private was one thing. To flaunt it in public was another, especially when he was someone who frequently appeared in Spanish gossip rags.
So I just stared at him and he stared at me, and we lay there on the grass for one last siesta at Las Palabras.
