Love, in English by Karina Halle
I thought by ignoring him, I could make it all go away. But I couldn’t. It only got worse.
“Hey,” I heard Adam say, coming up to me. “Can I have a drag?”
I gave him a small smile, trying to straighten up through the pain. I handed it to him and his finger brushed against mine. I felt nothing. He kept staring at me, blinking rapidly, nose twitching as he puffed on the cigarette.
“So how are you?” he asked. “How are you feeling right now?”
I pursed my lips. “Drunk. I’m feeling drunk.”
He smiled. It was somewhat predatory. “Good. There’s nothing wrong with feeling loose.”
I shrugged. “Guess not.”
I reached back for the cigarette, almost falling over. He caught me by my arms, his hands squeezing me, and straightened me up. “You look like you could use a walk,” he said.
I nodded dumbly, numbly. He took hold of my hand and led me up the street and around into a smelly, dark and dirty alley.
Suddenly he flicked the cigarette to the ground, pushed me back against the slimy brick wall and stuck his tongue in my mouth. He tasted like beer and nicotine. For a moment I was shocked, and then something in me let him kiss me. I even kissed him back. It felt good to be in someone else’s arms, the object of someone else’s affections.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t just a kiss. His hands were groping me, squeezing painfully at my breasts, trying to undo my jeans. The warning bells went off in my head, breaking through my drunken, emotionally damaged haze. This wasn’t going well.
“Adam,” I said, “stop.”
“What happened to the girl who used to flirt with me?” he said, biting my neck so hard I thought he was drawing blood.
“I mean it,” I said. I tried to get out of his grasp but he grabbed me by the throat and pushed me back to the wall, my head striking it hard. I blinked through the stars, fear coming over me. Oh my god. What if he didn’t let go?
“You mean it,” he snarled. “Everyone knows what a slut you are, that you spread your legs for everyone. What’s wrong with me, huh? Not good enough for your whore ass?”
“Please, Adam,” I said, trying to speak, my throat pressing into his palm as I did so. What the hell drugs was he on? “I’m sorry if it seems like I led you—”
“You’re such a liar,” he said, then kissed me again, trying to yank down my jeans. “Fucking whore thinks she’s suddenly too good for me.”
“You’re drunk. You’re fucked up.”
“You’re mine.”
I couldn’t move, his grip on my throat like iron. I opened my mouth to yell but he quickly put his other hand over it, leaving my jeans alone for the moment. His pupils were crazy big, darting back and forth, his face red, mouth curled in a sneer. I’d never seen anything uglier.
“You’re going to shut up and take it,” he said. “I know you want it. You’re suddenly too much of a prude to say so. A slut doesn’t change her spots.”
“What the fuck are you doing?” I heard Josh bellow from behind Adam. I looked over his shoulder to see Josh running toward us. In seconds he had his hand on Adam’s shoulder, ripping him off of me.
I gasped for air, sliding down along the sticky wall until I was on the ground, and watched as Josh punched Adam right in the face.
“The fuck is your problem?” Adam cried out, holding his nose.
“That’s my fucking sister, you fuckhead!” Josh yelled, decking him in the side of the head. I had never seen my brother fight anyone before, I didn’t think he had it in him. But now, he was so livid he looked like he was about to beat Adam into oblivion.
“She’s been after me from day one,” Adam cried out, his arm out, trying to get Josh to stop. “She wanted it.”
“No,” Josh said, pointing at me, a shivering, quaking mess on the ground. “She did not fucking want it.”
“Whatever, you know she’s a big slut.”
And Josh punched him one more time, this one bringing Adam to the ground with a thump. Then he came over to me and grabbed me gently by my hands, pulling me to my feet. “Are you hurt?” he asked, peering at me.
I shook my head, a lump in my raw throat, unable to speak.
He put his arm around me. “Come on, I’m taking you home.”
I nodded feebly and he led me to the road, hailing a cab.
Once inside, he took off his leather jacket and placed it around my shoulders.
We were silent for a few blocks, the neon glow of the cold city lights flashing across our laps.
“Vera,” he said quietly, “I’m just your brother. I’m not Mercy or Mom. I’m not going to tell you how to live your life. But you can’t keeping doing this either.”
I gave him a look, shadows rising and falling on his face. “Doing what?” I asked testily. “You think I asked for that?”
“No,” he said quickly. “I know you didn’t. No one does ask for that, no matter who you are, no matter who spins it. But…I feel like you’re on a path that you don’t want to be on. Drinking away your sorrows and putting yourself into these kind of situations where you’re acting out of loneliness. You need to treat yourself better.”
You should treat yourself better than that, Mateo’s words came ringing into my head.
I let out a sob, caught unaware by the pain of that memory, the memory of him after he caught me with Dave. Mateo. He’d been right, always so right about me. And I was pushing him away because it was too hard. He deserved to be treated better than that.
Josh brought me to him in a hug. I stayed that way for the whole ride.
Once I got home, I staggered to my room, locked the door, and called Mateo. I needed him right then, more than anything.
It rang for a long time before he answered. “Hola, es Mateo,” he said slowly, almost questioningly. I knew I had called him at a bad time; he would have seen my phone number and now he was pretending.
“Mateo,” I choked out, the tears rising up, my chest tight.
“Si,” he said.
“I am so sorry. I’m so sorry and I’m so sorry I’m calling you right now like this, but I just needed to speak to you…” I trailed off and started sobbing.
I heard a female voice in the background. “Quien es?” I couldn’t breathe.
“Si,” Mateo said to me, his voice strained. “Te llamaré de Nuevo, estoy teniendo el desayuno.”
And then he hung up. I had no idea what he said. I felt the cold grip of dread, wondering if I had made a mistake by calling him. I lay back in bed, then rolled over onto my side, curling into a ball. I tried to imagine his arms around me, his lips on my forehead, the kindness and complete understanding in his eyes, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. He was right. It would never be enough.
I was half-asleep, my face coated with tears, the blanket soaked beneath me, when the phone rang. It was Mateo. I gripped it in my hands, afraid to let go.
“Mateo?” I cried softly.
“Vera, Vera,” he said, his voice shaking. “Oh, Vera, my Estrella, what happened?”
I couldn’t speak for some time. Finally I was able to say, “I miss you. I miss you so much.”
“I miss you too. Oh, Estrella, my star. You have no idea. No idea. I have been so worried about you, you haven’t answered my calls or my emails. I think you don’t love me anymore. My heart has been breaking.”
I made a fist at my chest. “Mine too. This is just so hard. I can’t do this anymore.”
“Please, please, Vera, don’t say that. There is always a way.”
There wasn’t. There was only one way, and every time I entertained the notion, it made me feel sick with guilt.
“I need you,” I told him. “I need you too much, miss you too much. I thought if I ignored the problem, it would go away.”
“The problem?”
I licked my dry lips. “Yes. The problem of us.”
“There can be good problems to have,” he said quietly. “I would rather have this problem than not have you at all. Don’t
I wasn’t sure. All I knew is that I hurt, constantly, and his voice was the only thing that could make it go away. Even his voice sounded like home. “I think I feel too much,” I told him. I took in a deep breath, trying to concentrate on my breathing. What a fucking night.
“I’m glad you feel so much.”
I laughed caustically. “I don’t. My heart is a whore.”
I heard the changing gears of the engine in the background. “Where are you right now? I’m so sorry I called you like that. I know it’s…risky.”
“It is fine, I am glad you did,” he said. “I was just having breakfast. Heading to work now.”
I didn’t dare ask who he was with, I knew it had been his wife. “What did you have?”
“Lots of mam and chess,” he said.
A grin spread across my face and I giggled. “My favorite.”
The next day I woke up hung over but still feeling better than the morning before. That was a good start.
Chapter Twenty-One
Exactly seven weeks after Mateo and I parted on that tear-soaked street in Madrid, I got a phone call that would change my life.
It was 3:30 a.m. when my phone rang, jolting me out of a dreamless sleep. I grabbed my phone and peered at the screen. It was Mateo.
My heart lurched, my thoughts immediately thinking that something had to be terribly wrong for him to call me in the middle of the night. I had no idea what time it was in Spain, but he had to have known I’d be sleeping.
“Hello, Mateo?” I whispered frantically into the phone, not wanting to wake the house.
“Vera,” he said thickly. My skin prickled with the familiar sound of his voice. Because of one thing or another, I hadn’t spoken to him on the phone for a few days, with only a few texts passing between us.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I…I think so.”
I sat up and swallowed hard. “You don’t sound okay.”
“It’s just that…” he trailed off. The silence felt miles wide.
“What?”
“I filed for divorce today.”
I put my hand to my chest, to make sure my heart was still there. “What?” I cried softly. I was floored, stunned, my brain was short-circuiting. “I don’t understand.”
“It wasn’t working. We all knew that. She knew that.”
“Holy shit,” I swore. “Sorry. I’m just…I’m shocked. I don’t know what to say. Was she…upset?”
“Of course,” he said simply. “She doesn’t want a divorce at all, but I cannot force myself to love her. I think deep down, she does not love me either. That this has been this way for years because of Chloe Ann.”
Shit. This was so real.
“When will you…when will it be final?” I asked softly.
“That, I do not know. It all depends. She agreed to it. However, I did not agree to the judge’s ruling about joint custody.”
“They see you as an unfit parent?” If I knew anything it was how much Mateo loved his daughter.
“Not at all. But in Spain, the mother always gets custody. You have to appeal for joint. I would let her have full, but I don’t particularly trust her when it comes to visitation rights. She could take my daughter away from me and I’d never see her. I’ve seen that happen to a few friends of mine and I couldn’t bear that.”
This was so heavy. I was too young to know anyone who had gotten divorced, and I had no idea how any of it worked. For a second there, my age started to weigh on me. But there were bigger things to worry about. This was Mateo’s burden and I had to be there for him, as much as I feared I had something to do with it.
“Do you have to pay alimony to Isabel?”
“No,” he said. “Because she had money coming into the marriage. The judge only forces alimony payments if the other party is clearly disadvantaged economically. I am sure it pains Isabel to not get a dime from me, but her parents and lineage will take care of her, perhaps better than I can. But for Chloe Ann, I will pay more than I should. I will give her as much as I possibly can.”
“I’m sorry,” I said softly, feeling pained for him. “I can only imagine how hard this is going to be.”
“Do not be sorry,” he said. “Yes, it will be hard. But I will fight. I have faith this will work out. I want this, Vera. And I want you.”
The blood in my veins slowed to a whoosh.
“You didn’t do this for me,” I croaked, a statement, not a question. “Please tell me you didn’t do this for me.”
“My Estrella,” he said. “I did this for me. Even if you don’t agree to what I’m about to ask of you, I know it had to be done. Eight years is a long time to be unhappy.”
Now my breaths were slowing, catching in my throat on the way out. “What are you going to ask me?”
“Come live with me.”
There was an undercurrent of desperation in his voice that reached down into my heart, opened the steel gates, and let loose the butterflies. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the feeling, that this man loved me, wanted me so much.
But one by one, the butterflies fell. And my heart closed up again.
“I can’t,” I managed to say. “You know I can’t.”
“I’ll fly you out here. I’ll take care of you. You won’t have to worry about anything.”
“My school,” I said. “My degree. I can’t just quit school now. I have one more year.”
Silence made the room a wasteland.
“Maybe in a year,” I went on, grasping for something.
“No,” he said adamantly. “I cannot wait a year. In a year you could become someone else’s star. I can’t let that happen. You belong to me and only to me.”
“I’ll wait for you,” I said feebly, feeling like I was living a World War II film.
“You’re twenty-three years old,” he said gruffly. “I would never ask you to wait for me. Vera, I need you. I love you. I want you here, now, tonight if I could have you.”
My fingers curled into fists above my chest, feeling the squeeze. God, I wanted him so much, just to be in his arms, to feel his heart against mine, to kiss his beautiful face. Oh fuck, this was killing me fucking slowly. All this time, every day since we parted, I was slowly being drained of life.
“Maybe you could come here?” I said, willing the tears to stay away. “You could open up a new restaurant…”
“You know I would in a heartbeat,” he assured me. “But I will not leave my daughter, and I would not be able to take her with me. I have to stay in Spain. In Madrid.” I heard him swallow over the phone. “You’d love Madrid, Vera,” he said quietly. “You could find a job if you wanted to or I would take care of you. We could create that universe. It would be so beautiful. Please. Please, just think about it.”
I had no choice but to think about it. The love of my life just asked me to move to Spain to be with him. It was all I would be able to think about until the day I died.
“Mateo, I love you,” I told him. “Please know that.”
“I know that,” he said. “And I don’t want you to love me from afar. I want you to love me, right here, in my arms.”
The butterflies stirred again, their wings brushing my ribs, leaving a trail of champagne bubbles in their wake. This damn man. This lovely, beautiful, passionate man. He was instilling me with hope all over again, that dangerous, ruthless thing.
“Don’t give up on us,” he whispered, fueling the flames. “I haven’t.”
“I’ll call you soon,” I said when I found my voice. “Adios.”
The line clicked dead. My room was as silent as a tomb. I was all alone again, but this time I had that burden of hope, a box of butterflies and chaos in the corner.
Waiting to be opened.
The next morning I got up early and went down the hall to talk to Josh. I wanted to catch him before he went to work. The truth was, I hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep after Mateo’s call, and I spent the rest of the night going over pros
“Josh?” I said, knocking gently with one hand on the knob. “Are you awake?”
I heard him grumble through the door. My mom was in her room, getting ready for her day, and I wanted this to remain completely private. I took a chance and opened it a crack, peeking my head in. To my surprise it didn’t reek like weed as it normally did.
He opened the door, squinting at me with one eye open, his hair a mess on his head.
“It’s called sleeping in, Vera,” he groused.
“Are you decent?”
“I have clothes on if that’s what you mean.”
“I need to talk to you,” I said. He took one look at my face and gave me a grave nod.
“Okay,” he said, letting me in.
I closed the door behind him and cleared off his desk chair that had a stack of porn on it. I frowned, picking a magazine up and waving it at him. “People still buy these? I mean, the internet is full of porn. Free porn.”
He sat down on his bed and shrugged. “I’m old-fashioned, what can I say?”
I rolled my eyes. “Ew.”
“So what is it? I’m guessing you didn’t come here to discuss Hustler with your brother.”
I grimaced. “No, I certainly did not, you fucking weirdo.” I sighed, realizing I was stalling. “So…Mateo is getting a divorce.”
His eyes bugged out. “No shit.”
“No shit at all,” I said. “He called me last night to tell me.”
“Damn. Well…I suppose that’s good, right? I think so. He called it off, did the right thing. No more lies.”
“Yeah, but how is his daughter going to handle it? Look at how I turned out.”
“I think a divorce when you’re a kid is a lot easier to handle than a divorce when you’re a teenager. You were thirteen. I think you handled it way worse than I did, and I was eleven.”
“It’s my fault.”
He frowned and gave me a wry smile. “Vera, you’re not quite off the hook, but I wouldn’t go around calling you a homewrecker either. It just happened this way. Obviously he was unhappy. Fuck, isn’t it better to be happy than not?”