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Everyone’s face changes. Raimon, the fiancé, stands up.
“What did you say, young lady?”
With sorrow, I nod.
“C’mon, Alfred, tell him!”
Everyone looks at the embarrassed young man.
“Come now, Alfred ... He’s your cousin,” says Frida. “It’s the least you can do.”
Betta’s face is red. She doesn’t know what to do as the people who were about to become her in-laws demand she return the family ring. I look over at the pallid Raimon.
“I know it’s a hard pill to swallow, but you’ll thank me in the long run, Raimon. That little gem is only marrying you for your money. You don’t do anything for her in bed, and she’s sleeping with half of Germany. And before you ask, yes, I can prove it.”
Losing it, Betta stands up and starts yelling denials while Raimon’s mother tries to get back her ring.
“Lies, they’re all lies! Raimon, don’t listen to her!”
Marta, who has kept quiet until this instant, smiles with malice.
Looking at the guests, she says, “My brother is Eric Zimmerman; he went out with her for a while, but he left her when he caught her romping in bed with his own father. What do you think of that? Nasty, right?”
Shocked, everyone stands up to demand an explanation.
“Oh, Betta, when will you learn!” exclaims Frida.
Raimon is furious, and his parents, along with the other people, can’t believe what they’re hearing. Alfred doesn’t know what to do. Everyone’s yelling. Everyone has an opinion. Betta looks shell-shocked.
“I told you,” I say to her in Spanish. “I told you not to mess with me, bitch! Come close to Eric, his family, his friends, or me ever again, and I promise they’ll throw you out of Germany.”
That said, Frida, Marta, and I march out of the restaurant. My vengeance against that idiot is complete. With adrenaline pumping in our veins, we decide to go dancing at the Guantanamera. I don’t want to go back home.
I don’t want to see Eric, and a little Cuban salsa and azúcar will do me good.
38
The next day, with a monumental hangover—the night before was a true ordeal, and I slept only a few hours at Marta’s house—I get back to Eric’s and he’s there. When he sees me walk in with my sunglasses on, he starts in on me.
“So, where did you sleep last night?”
I raise my hand to stop him. “I can assure you, it wasn’t in the middle of the street.”
He grunts. He swears. He tells me how worried he was, but I pay him no mind. I walk decidedly, sensing his steps behind me. He’s furious, and, when I get to my room, I slam the door in his face. I wait for him to storm in and yell, but he doesn’t. Good! I don’t feel like listening to him growl. Not today.
While I finish packing my things in cardboard boxes, I try to be strong. I’m not going to cry. I’m done crying for the Iceman. If he doesn’t care about me, I have no reason to love him. I have to end this as soon as possible. When I finish taping up a box of books, I decide to go up to the bedroom. I have lots of things there. Luckily, I don’t cross paths with Eric, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I see he’s not there either. I leave a couple of boxes outside the room and go see Flyn.
The boy is happy to see me, but when he realizes I’m saying goodbye, his face changes.
“You promised you wouldn’t go,” he whispers.
“I know, dear. I know I promised, but sometimes things between adults don’t turn out like you planned, and, in the end, they get more complicated than you expected.”
“It’s all my fault,” he says, and his face twists. “If I hadn’t ridden the skateboard, I wouldn’t have fallen, and you and my uncle wouldn’t have argued.”
I hug him, rocking a bit. I never would have imagined he would cry for me, and trying not to let the tears spill out of my eyes, I murmur, “Listen, Flyn. You’re not to blame for anything, darling. Your uncle and I ...”
“I don’t want you to leave. I have fun with you, and you’re ... you’re nice to me. Why do you have to go?”