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“As far as I’m concerned, they’re trash, and they make me feel the same way.”
I don’t look as my sister puts the roses back in the vase.
“Aren’t you at least going to read the note?” she insists.
“No, and neither are you,” I say, and tear it out of her hands and throw it away as well.
My brother-in-law and my father walk in and gape at us.
“Can you believe she wants to throw this wonderful bouquet in the trash?”
“I believe it,” my father says.
Jesús kisses my sister on the neck.
“Thank God you’re here to save them, hon.”
I zap some coffee in the microwave and hear the doorbell ring as I drink it. I curse, ready to flee if it’s Eric. Seeing my face, my father goes to answer the door. Two seconds later, he returns, apparently amused, and leaves something on the table.
“Sweetheart, this is for you.”
They’re all looking at me, waiting for me to open the huge white-and-gold box. Finally, I give in.
“Wow!” exclaims my niece as she steps into the kitchen with perfect timing.
“I think someone wants to sweeten your life, darling,” jokes my father.
Amazed, I look at the huge soccer field made of candy. It’s not lacking in detail. It even has stands and fans! The scoreboard reads “I love you” in German:Ich liebe dich.
My heart flutters at hyperspeed.
I’m not used to these things and don’t know what to say.
“You’re not going to throw it away, are you?” asks my sister.
“I think so,” I answer.
My niece comes between us and raises a finger.
“Auntieeeeeeeeee, you can’t throw this away!”
I smile at her rascally expression. “Luz, if you want, eat the whole soccer field. It’s all yours, OK?”
“Hooray!” she says.
Aware my anxiety is growing, I go to see my friend Rocío. I’m sure she won’t talk to me about Eric, and I’m not wrong.
I come back for dinner, and Eric keeps calling until I finally turn my phone off.
Enough already!
At ten o’clock that night, I go to work. I’m greeting some friends at the door, when I see a dark BMW pass by and recognize Eric at the wheel. I hide. He didn’t see me, but, given the direction he’s taking, I suspect he’s headed for my father’s house.
Why is he so insistent?
Just as I start to dwell on it, someone touches my back, and I’m face-to-face with David Guepardo. I smile and try to focus on him. He follows me back to the bar and orders a drink. He’s kind, a real charmer, and because of his gaze and the things he says, I know what he’s after. But I’m not up for it today, and I decide to ignore the signals he’s sending as I serve drinks to other customers at the bar.
Twenty minutes later, I spy Eric walking into the bar, and my heart starts pounding.