Page 144

For the next few hours, I gather my possessions, put photos, books, and CDs in boxes, and every time I tape one shut, my heart sinks. In the afternoon, I meet up with Marta at Arthur’s bar and tell her I’m leaving.
“Is my brother that much of an idiot?”
Her eloquence makes me grin.
“It’s for the best, Marta. You know your brother and I love each other a lot, but we’re just totally incapable of fixing our problems.”
“No, it’s just my brother!” she insists. “I know that pigheaded man, and if you’re leaving, I’m sure it’s because he hasn’t made things easy for you. But I swear on my mother he’s going to listen to me. I’m really going to lay into him about this.”
Frida shows up a while later and joins us in our lament, and we talk for hours. We console each other while Arthur keeps coming back to bring us fresh drinks. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with us. All he knows is we’re crying one minute and laughing the next.
Suddenly, I remember something. I look at the clock. It’s seven twenty on Friday evening.
“Do you two know where the Trattoria da Vincenzo is?”
“Are you hungry?” Marta asks.
I shake my head no and tell them Betta will be there right now.
“Oh no!” Frida says when she sees the look in my eyes. “Don’t even think about it! If Eric found out, he’d get even angrier and ...”
“And what?” I ask. “What does that matter now?”
The three of us look at each other, and, like witches, we burst into laughter. We get into Marta’s car, and, twenty minutes later, we’re in front of the restaurant. Laughing, we concoct a plan.
When we walk into the pretty restaurant, I cast my eyes over the place, looking for her. As I imagined, she’s sitting at a table with several people. I watch her for a while. She seems satisfied and happy.
“Judith, if you want, we can leave,” Marta whispers.
I shake my head no. My vengeance is going to be complete. I walk decidedly to the table. When Betta sees the three of us, she turns white. I smile and wink at her.
“Betta, what are you doing here?”
All the dinner guests at the table look at us, and I introduce myself.
“I’m Judith Flores, Spanish like Betta.” They all nod. “Delighted to meet you,” I say, wearing my most charming and angelic smile.
The dinner guests smile back.
“A little bird told me someone was going to ask you an important question today. Is it true they asked to marry you?”
With a dislocated smile, she nods, and her fiancé, a man of more than a few years, happily confirms it.
“Yes, miss, and this precious thing has said yes.” Taking her by the hand, he adds, “In fact, my mother just gave her the family engagement ring, a real gem.”
The guests applaud, and Marta, Frida, and I do too. We all smile when they offer us glasses of champagne, and, thrilled as can be, we accept them and drink. They make room for us. We sit down with them at the table, and Betta watches me.
“Raimon, she really is a gem.”
The man nods proudly. Amused with my two partners in crime, I egg on the guests. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
Betta looks at me, furious; I clap happily until they finally kiss.
I shake my head, and in my angelic voice, I ask, “And who’s Cousin Alfred?”
A young man about my age raises his hand.
“Have you told Raimon yet you’re sleeping with Betta? I think he deserves to know, even if it all stays in the family.”