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“Why haven’t you told me you play basketball?”
Eric looks at me the way he often does. “Because you never asked,” he says softly. “But we’re on my turf now, and there may be a few things about me that will surprise you.”
I nod like a fool. I thought I knew him, and suddenly I find out he’s an Olympic shooter and plays basketball and will probably surprise me with more things. To see his mother again and meet Flyn make me nervous because I can’t always keep my mouth shut about what I’m thinking.
“When you said you weren’t very effusive in your greetings here, did that also mean there won’t be good-morning kisses?”
“There will always be kisses as long as it’s what we both want,” he responds.
Shiiiiiiiiiiit! He’s giving me a taste of my own medicine, and I’m a very bad patient.
I go on eating the plum cake, but my face must tell quite a story because he says, “Anything else?”
I shake my head, and he goes back to his paper, but when I sneak a peek at him, I see his lips curving into a smile. What a punk!
As soon as I finish my breakfast, he gets up, and I do the same. We walk toward the door and get our coats out of the closet. Eric makes a face.
“What’s the matter now?” I ask.
“What you have on won’t keep you warm. This isn’t Spain.”
“Don’t worry,” I say as I take my black Desigual coat in my hands. “It’s warmer than it looks.”
With furrowed brow, he raises the collar of my coat and takes me by the hand as we go down the hallway.
“We’re going to have to buy you something else because I don’t want you to get sick.”
I sigh and don’t say anything. Once we’re in the Mitsubishi, Eric presses a button, and the garage door opens; the car heats up in seconds.
The radio comes on, and I smile when I recognize Maroon 5. As Eric drives, he begins to tell me about where we are.
He explains that his house is in the Trudering district, a very pretty place where, in the light of day, I can see many more houses like his all around. Each one is more impressive than the last. When we get on the highway, he tells me that, a little to the south, there are farms and woods. I like that. To have nature close by, like in Jerez, is essential for me.
We pass the Riem district and come to an elegant neighborhood called Bogenhausen. This is where his mother lives. After driving down the streets with chalet after chalet, we come to a stop before a dark gate, and I tense up. I know Sonia, and I know she’s a dear, but she’s Eric’s mother, and that makes me nervous.
Once he parks the car in the garage, he looks over and smiles. He understands that when I’m quiet, it’s because I’m tense. Just as I’m about to say something silly to try to relax, a door opens and Sonia steps out.
“How wonderful to have you both here!” she exclaims.
I smile; I can’t do anything else. Sonia hugs me, and I hug her back.
“Welcome to Germany and my home, love,” she whispers in my ear. “We’re going to love you very much here.”
“Thank you,” I babble.
Eric gives his mother a kiss, then takes me by the hand, and together we go into the house. The noise is atrocious, and the music is repetitive. “Flyn is in the living room, busy with one of his infernal games,” Sonia explains. She looks over at her son. “He’s driving me crazy. He doesn’t know how to have fun without that cursed music.” Eric just grins. “Your sister called. She said to wait for her to eat. She wants to say hi to you and Jude.”
“Stupendous,” says Eric, but I’m about to blow my brains out because of the strident music coming from the living room.
Eric and his mother talk about Flyn’s nanny for a few minutes. They are both very disappointed in her, and I hear them say they have to hire someone new. As they talk, I’m surprised that atrocious noise in the background isn’t a problem for them. In fact, it almost feels like they’re used to it. Once they stop talking, a young woman comes up and says something to Sonia. Excusing herself, Sonia goes with her. Eric takes my hand.
“Are you ready to meet Flyn?”
I nod, and we walk together to the living room. Eric opens the enormous white sliding door, and the decibels shoot up. Is Flyn deaf? The room is spacious, full of light, photographs, and flowers. But the noise is insufferable.
There is an enormous plasma TV featuring a couple of battling warriors. I know the game,Mortal Kombat. My friend Nacho loves it, and we’ve played for hours and hours. It’s addictive.
The warriors leap and scramble on the screen, and I notice there’s a red cap moving around on the strawberry-colored couch in front of the screen. Is that Flyn?