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“I was in the shower, Raquel. What’s your problem?”
Her laugh makes me laugh too.
“How is Curro?”
I shrug and sigh. “Same as yesterday. Maybe a little worse, I should say.”
“Honey, you have to be prepared. Remember what the vet said.”
“I know, I know.”
“Has Fernando called?” she asks after a brief silence.
“No.”
“And are you going to call him?”
“No.”
But my sister is unsatisfied with my answer. “Judith, that man is good for you,” she insists. “He has a good job, he’s handsome, kind, and ...”
“Thenyougo out with him.”
“Judith!” my sister protests.
I’ve known Fernando my whole life. We’re both from Jerez. My father and his father live in that beautiful little town, and we’ve been friends since we were kids. When we were adolescents, we started a little romance that spilled into adulthood. He lives in Valencia, and I live in Madrid. He’s a police inspector. We see each other during summer vacation and in the winter when we both go to Jerez, or during quick trips he makes to Madrid with any excuse to see me.
He is tall, dark, and a lot of fun. You can spend hours just laughing with him because he’s easy to be with, and he has an unstoppable sense of humor. The problem is that I’m not in love with him like I know he is with me. I like him. He’s my summer fling, and we exchange bodily fluids whenever he comes to see me. But I don’t want anything more, although my sister, my father, and all our friends in Jerez insist we should couple up once and for all.
“Listen, Judith, call him. He said he was going to see you before going to Jerez, and I’m sure he will.”
“God, don’t be a drag, Raquel.”
My sister always does the same thing: she pushes me to the limit, and when she sees I’ve had it, she changes the subject.
“Are you coming over for dinner?”
“No, I have a date.”
I can tell she’s surprised.
“And may I ask with whom?” she asks.
“With a friend,” I lie. Considering how much of a Puritan she is, if I tell her it’s my boss, she’s going to have a heart attack. “And now, big sister, enough questions.”
“Well, I hope you know what you’re doing. But I think you’re being a fool about Fernando, and he’s going to get tired of waiting for you. You’ll see.”
“Raquel!”
“OK, OK, I’m not going to say anything more. And just so you know, I got flowers again today from Jesús. What do you think?”
“Damn it, Raquel, what do you want me to think?” I answer, annoyed. “That’s a very nice thing for him to do.”
“Yes, but he’s never sent me two bouquets within three weeks before. Something’s going on; I know it. I know him. And this is not like him.”
I glance over at the digital clock on my nightstand: it’s 8:05 p.m. Still willing to listen to my sister’s paranoid rants, I drag the phone to the bathroom, put it on speaker, and wrap my hair in a towel.
“Let’s see. What’s going on now?”