Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
It’s day four of our road trip. The fatigue from our ambitious schedule is beginning to wear on both of us. We were so exhausted after yesterday that we decided to sleep in this morning. Madrid is only about an hour away. There’s no need to rush.
We arrived at the train station around ten and are now en route to Spain’s capital city.
“I know it’s more than three weeks away, but have you ever been to a Christmas market?” Fernando asks as he places his phone on the tray table.
“Not unless a school craft fair counts. Remember”—I point to myself—“this is my first big trip overseas. Christmas markets aren’t a big thing in America. And until very, very recently, I didn’t do things outside my comfort zone.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Care to share why you’re not comfortable at a Christmas market? Do you not enjoy the holiday?”
I had no intentions of ever saying anything to anyone about it, but Fernando has a way about getting me to share things about myself that I’d never willingly let anyone else in on.
There isn’t a barrier between us. I instinctively know I can trust him to be respectful and not tease me the way Dylan might have.
“I like Christmas. But I’ve never enjoyed the lonely feeling it brings.” I stare out the window at the passing scenery. It looks like we’re in for a rainy day as droplets of water hit the train’s windows, creating abstract patterns.
“What do you mean?”
I continue looking away. “The holidays are about being surrounded by your friends and loved ones, but when I lived in Colorado, it was isolating. I’d only be able to go home for two or three days at Thanksgiving or Christmas.
It reminded me of what I was missing. I was always on my own, away from everyone I cared about. ”
“What about you know who?”
“Dylan was from Colorado.” I keep my voice even. “He wasn’t around during our breaks. He always went home.”
“And he didn’t think to invite you?” Fernando’s voice is growing raspy.
“He did once, but otherwise, no.” I take a deep breath. “I didn’t ask either. I never wanted it to seem like I was fishing for an invitation.”
As I raise my head, I see his nostrils flare. “If the jerk knew you were going to be alone, you shouldn’t have had to ask. An invitation should’ve been a given.”
“I guess,” I say slowly.
“No, Ava. No guessing. It’s not normal for friends to leave other friends hanging.
Especially for someone you claim was your best friend.
” Fernando mutters under his breath in Spanish.
His eyes have darkened. It’s almost as if they’re swirling storm clouds on the verge of coming together and forming a hurricane.
“If I had been there, you would never have been alone.”
There it is again. Somebody pointing out that my friendship with Dylan was one-sided. Was it always that way? Was I so blinded by love that I chose to overlook it? “I appreciate that.”
Fernando reaches a hand and places it on top of mine. “I can’t make up for the past, but as long as I’m around, you’ll always have a standing invitation to spend time with me.” His fingers gently brush against my skin. “Once the gang meets you, they’ll want you around all the time too.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. My body feels like I’ve been sitting in a sauna. Steam would be billowing out of my ears if that were possible. “Twenty-something Ava wishes she could’ve met you a couple years ago.”
“Ditto. I wish that too.” He holds my gaze.
His eyes are the color of warm gingerbread today.
“So, um, going back to the Christmas market . . .” He runs a hand through his hair and clears his throat.
“I noticed that Madrid’s opened this past weekend.
I was gonna ask if you wanted to visit it, but now I don’t want to bring up any bad or painful memories.
We can skip it and do something else if you’d like. ”
Again, he’s surprising me. I don’t know what to say. Men aren’t usually so thoughtful or in tune with emotions. Someone like Fernando usually only exists in books or in Hallmark movies. But here’s a living, breathing prince among men. Well, ex-prince, if I’m being technical.
“What if I want to go? I’m so tired of living in the past.”
He takes a moment to reply. “I’m the genie of the lamp—your wish is my command.”
I chuckle. “Is that a quote from Aladdin?”
“Sí, good guess. The Genie is one of my three favorite characters.”
“And the other two are?”
“Aladdin and Raja the tiger.” He relaxes against the plush backing of his seat.
A smile twitches on my face. “I can see the Genie for his humor. Aladdin for his wit and energy. But I’m baffled by why you like Princess Jasmine’s tiger.”
“Raja’s like me. He loves his naps.”
I face-palm as he laughs.
“Did you know a tiger averages sixteen to twenty hours of sleep per day? That’s my kind of feline.”
“I did, actually. Tigers were one of the animals I worked with at the Colorado Zoo when I was doing my residency.”
“Really?” He sits taller in his seat.
“Uh-huh. I’m certified as an exotics vet, which means I can work with way more animals than your average cat or dog.”
“You continually impress me, Doctor B.” He emphasizes the R, causing a few goosebumps to appear on my arm. “I’m surprised you didn’t want to stay on at the zoo. No offense, but I would’ve thought that might be more exciting than working in a small town.”
“I loved working with so many different animals. But I didn’t like the zoo’s management.
” I cross one leg over the other. “I looked around for openings at other zoos, but most were on the East Coast. I wasn’t willing to relocate that far away.
My parents had just moved to California.
When Dylan asked me if I wanted to open a practice with him, it seemed like a no-brainer.
I thought I’d try out the private sector for a couple years, then go back to a zoo, but it hasn’t worked out that way. ”
“Management’s always the problem.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Problems for you too?”
“Mm-hmm. Dreams on Ice.” He scrunches his nose. “It’s a long story, but basically, the company was bought out and the new management was looking to cut costs and increase profits.” He shakes his head.
“Ouch. Is that what pushed you to leave?”
“Partly. I already had one foot out the door, but the final straw was when I got reprimanded for reckless behavior.”
“What?” I frown. He’s the last person I’d ever imagine endangering others.
“Management didn’t like me coaching the new skaters on partnering. They wanted them to figure it out themselves.”
“How does that make any sense? That sounds more like an accident waiting to happen.”
“It doesn’t make sense.” He shrugs. “I didn’t care what they said. I helped out the skaters until they decided not to renew my contract. Anyway, moving to Sequoia Valley was the best thing I could’ve done. I’m much happier.”
“I’m glad. Being happy is the most important thing of all.”
“Here, here.”
“La Latina is the heart of the old town. It’s either the oldest or second-oldest neighborhood in Madrid,” Fernando says two hours later.
We stroll down another narrow cobblestone street lined with three-story buildings. We’ve made so many turns, I’ve lost track of where we’re going. The entire area is a blend of old and modern. There are countless churches and museums, but also a large array of bars, cafes, and tapas restaurants.
“Are you sure this is the right way to your old apartment?”
“Sí. I may be terrible with directions, but I know La Latina as well as my hometown.”
“What drew you to this neighborhood?”
“I’d heard it was like a small town. Eighteen-year-old me was nervous about moving from my own town to the big city.”
“And how did it actually turn out?” I ask.
“My apartment building was great. I knew all my neighbors by first name. But most of the surrounding properties were vacation rentals.”
“That stinks.”
“It wasn’t too bad. The nightlife made up for it.” We make another turn. “This was my street. I lived on the second floor of the orange building over there.”
“Did you keep as many colorful flowerpots on the balcony as the owner has now?” I laugh.
“No, I’m terrible with plants. I forget to water them.”
“In your defense, I’m sure you were busy.”
“Sí, I was practicing on the ice four hours a day. And training another three hours a day at the gym. There wasn’t much time left over. Sundays were my only day off, and I used that time for sleeping.”
No wonder he’s always napping. That’s a lot of energy to expend. How much time does he spend at the gym now that he’s retired? He still looks like he’s in peak physical shape. Does he still practice stuff too?
At the end of the street, I smell garlic, olive oil, and roasting meat. My mouth begins to water and my stomach grumbles. Suddenly, food is all I can think about. “Oh, that smells so good.”
Fernando sniffs the air too. “That must be the Garcia family restaurant. They used to serve the best omelets and other local dishes. Do you feel like stopping there for lunch?”
“Yes!”
We enter a building that looks outdated, with peeling paint and faded lettering on the outside. The interior isn’t in much better shape. Fernando leads us inside to a small, dimly lit dining room with mismatched chairs and tables with checkered tablecloths. A single ceiling fan hums overhead.
I glance at Fernando skeptically, but before I can say anything, a stout older man with a thick mustache emerges from the kitchen. He’s wiping his hands on a worn apron when his eyes land on Fernando. His face lights up with recognition.
“?Fernando! No puede ser, chico!” the man exclaims, rushing over to clasp his shoulders. The two men have a brief conversation in rapid Spanish. I wish I could follow what they’re saying, but I’m only able to pick up a few words here and there. How long has it been since they’ve seen one another?
Fernando places a hand lightly on my back and switches back to English. “Don Antonio, this is Ava. She’s visiting Spain, and I couldn’t let her leave without tasting your famous tortilla de patatas.”
Don Antonio nods approvingly, waving us toward a table near the window. “Coming right up. Sit, sit! I’ll bring you the best we have. Tortilla, gazpacho, jamón ibérico—you’ll eat like royalty.”
When my omelet arrives, all my earlier doubts are replaced by groans of delight. The tortilla is golden and thick, perfectly cooked with layers of tender potatoes and onion. The gazpacho is also cool and refreshing, the flavors bursting with the freshness of ripe tomatoes and crisp cucumbers.
“We need a place like this in Sequoia Valley,” I say as I cut a corner of my meal into small pieces.
“Sí, we do,” Fernando agrees. “I’ve forgotten how much I love Don Antonio’s cooking. It’s the first time I’ve been back here in three years. I don’t get to Madrid too often unless it’s to see family or for a skating engagement.”
“You seemed to be in your element when we were walking around. What lured you away from the city?”
He sets his fork and knife down on the plate and wipes his mouth on his napkin.
“I loved living here, but when the coach I was training under decided he wanted to relocate to the mountains, the choice was either follow him or find a new coach. My partner at the time, Sylvie, made it clear she was following our coach. Without her, I couldn’t skate. So I didn’t have much of a choice.”
“That must have been a big adjustment to go from living in a big city to a small town.”
“It was.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Bosque-Beret is a lot smaller than Sequoia Valley. Most of the residents up there were competitive skiers, snowboarders, or coaches. I think during the peak of the winter season, there might’ve been about two hundred people living there.”
“That’s tiny!”
“It is.” He nods. “There wasn’t much to do either. We had a hotel, a post office, a ski shop, the rink, a tiny convenience store, and a petrol station.”
“There wasn’t even a coffee shop?”
“Nope,” he says. “I mean, there was one inside the hotel, but it was overpriced. A coffee should never cost four euros.”
“Could you escape to the next closest town?”
“Nope.” He shakes his head. “It was too far away—about an hour by car. And that’s without any heavy snowfall.”
“Ouch,” I hiss.
“Uh-huh.” He picks up his cutlery and stabs a piece of his omelet.
“Sylvie and our coach claimed it was the perfect training environment since we couldn’t get distracted.
” He sighs. “It was like the cruise ship for me. I told myself I’d try and stick it out for six months, but I barely made it to two.
” He sighs. “When I broke the news to Sylvie that I wanted to move back to Madrid, we decided to end our partnership. That was the end of my competitive skating career.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not.” He chuckles. “We were never a good fit to begin with. She was all business, I wasn’t.
She wanted to go to Worlds and the Olympics, I didn’t.
Going our separate ways was the best thing for both of us.
It led me to the cruise line and allowed her to find someone who shared the same goals she did.
” He takes a long sip of water. “You look confused.”
“I am,” I admit. “I guess I’m surprised she wouldn’t try and fight harder to save your partnership. It can’t be easy starting with a new guy from scratch.”
“You’re right, it’s like finding the right person to date. When you’re looking for a partner, there’s a lot of boxes that have to be checked. For example, you want someone with a similar technique to yours. If not, it takes months to marry your skills together so you’re both on the same page.”
“Wow.”
Fernando spends the remainder of our meal filling me in on the challenges of finding a pairs partner.
I learn that there are way more female skaters than male partners available and that it’s not uncommon for skaters at the highest level to have to relocate and change nationalities to pursue their skating dreams.
In Fernando’s case, his old partner ended up moving to France to skate, while he decided not to bother with another partner. He knew he wanted to pursue show skating.
“That’s a lot to sacrifice,” I tell him. “You have to want it pretty badly to go to extremes like those.”
“Indeed. There are times I’ve wondered if becoming a skater was all worth it. It’s made my personal life a mess. But on the other hand, it’s also given me a lot of opportunities too, like traveling the world.”
Is he alluding to his romantic life? If he is, I’m baffled.
This man is a hidden gem. Or as the Cave of Wonders from Aladdin might say, “A diamond in the rough.” In all the time I’ve spent with him, he always looks so sad whenever I bring up dating or the past. What happened?
And will he ever be able to find his own happy ending?