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“That’s not true,” says Eric, now standing at the kitchen door.
We look at each other like combatants. “Frida, please call a cab,” I demand.
Andrés and Frida don’t know what to do. Bewildered, Eric keeps his distance.
“Jude, I don’t want you to go. Come upstairs to the room, and let’s talk.”
“No. Now I’m the one who doesn’t want to talk to you. I want to leave. I refuse to let you use me anymore. This is over!”
Eric closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. My words have hurt him, but he decides not to answer. When he opens his eyes again, he doesn’t look at me.
“Frida, please, call her a cab,” he says, and walks away.
Ten minutes later, a cab arrives at the door. Eric has not reappeared. I say goodbye to Frida and Andrés, and—my heart hurting—I leave.
46
In Jerez, my father doesn’t talk; he just looks at me.
It’s been three days since I came home, and I’m just human debris. He knows that I’m not well and something happened between Eric and me, but he respects my silence. My father’s neighbors are a different story. They’re constantly asking me about “the Frankfurter,” and that throws me into despair.
Somebody tells Fernando I’m back home. He texts me and, on the third day, shows up at the house. I’m over by the pool, lying on a hammock, when I see him come out to the backyard.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi,” I respond.
He sits down on the hammock next to mine, but he doesn’t say anything. Neither of us says anything. My father peeks out the kitchen window and sees us, but he doesn’t come near us. He waits.
“Are you OK, Judith?”
“Yes.”
Silence again ...
“I feel bad that you’re here,” Fernando says.
“There’s nothing wrong,” I say with a smile. “As you said, I bashed my head against the wall all by myself.”
“I’m not happy about that, Judith.”
“I know.”
Again, silence between the two of us. Suddenly, the Rolling Stones’ “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” comes on the radio, and we can’t help grinning.
“Every time I hear that song, I remember the party at Rocío’s a few years ago,” I say. “Do you remember when we did it to this song?”
Fernando nods and starts to sing along. I join him. He gets up and begins to dance as he sings, and that makes me laugh. Finally, I get up too, and I dance and sing along with him. In that moment, I manage to forget all my troubles. When the song ends, we both laugh and look at each other. I raise my arms in search of a hug.
“This is how I like to see you, Judith. Happy and having fun. Like yourself. Forgive me for sticking my nose in what wasn’t my business, but sometimes, we men can be real idiots.”
“You’re forgiven, Fernando. I need to be forgiven too.”
“Of course. Have absolutely no doubt about that.”
That night, I have dinner with him, and then we go out to places where we know we will run into friends. Nobody makes the slightest reference to the man they’ve seen me with in the past few weeks, and I try to enjoy myself the best I can.
The days pass, and Eric doesn’t contact me. I don’t understand how such a marvelous vacation can end like that, so abruptly and on such a sour note, especially when he and I can understand each other with just a look. These days, Fernando’s presence gives me comfort. He hasn’t tried anything beyond what would be expected of a friend, and I’m grateful to him.