So in love
-Oh, devil's chair.
The whiplash of pain from the blow scales up my calf. The side of my Converse has also suffered from my foolish carelessness. With my fingers on tiptoe, except for my pinky which is in the ICU of crushed toes, I gently rest the keys on the table and walk across the hardwood floors like a poorly trained dancer. I don't make it two steps when I start laughing again. Unlike yesterday, this time I do it in the deepest of silences. Mariam, last night, made me laugh so hard that my unhinged face had a hard time returning to its original position. To imagine Blake in a sideways cap rehearsing for a killer rapper play is beyond belief. I'm not sure if my astonishment was from him trying to help her choreograph or from watching his lack of shame trying to bribe the teacher to bring his sister's team to stardom. Mariam's story was the funniest, but also the most tender. Knowing that Blake is capable of doing silly things for the people he loves makes him a less perfect and more approachable guy.
As the laughter began to escape through my tears and the night was tinged with feminine laughter, a large, firm hand grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back onto the couch. You can't imagine what I can do for love, she said with half my body lying on top of mine.
On the verge of dehydration from sexual overheating, her fingers surprised me by attacking in a merciless shower of tickling at my crazed waist. With desperate dignity, I begged for help from Mariam who, willing to do anything to save our wounded fem power , threw herself on her back forming a tower of dizzy drunks in which I was the crushed foundations. When we managed to turn the tables, and we almost tasted triumph, Blake regained his strength by throwing us both back against the couch and holding us with his sturdy knees he said: Beg or die! We both marched with offended fem power to my room. Late in the evening, exhaustion overcame the stories. This morning I woke up sharing a mattress with a beautiful blonde under the same blanket. He tucked us in before going to his room.
Last year when I lost my grandmother, a part of me became Superman and Clark Kent. Surely, for comparative purposes, I feel better Supergirl, but as conventionalities were never my thing... The truth is that, like Superman, I decided to hide behind the unrecognizable mask of a curly curly hair on my forehead. The abandonment I suffered is not something easy to hide, everyone knows the orphan girl, what they don't know is that sorrows are not forgotten as quickly as their staircase gossip. Spending time with Mariam, smiling by her side, instilled in me a courage I don't always possess. We helpless girls soar over life's infinite delicacies, but share tables with very few. Fear of being hurt is our protective barrier. Mariam and Blake last night managed to break through the strong fence with laughter.
I rest the bottle of one hundred percent squeezed juice on the table not knowing what to do. Part of me wants to end the cycle of lovers and throw myself into his room so that love can find us willing. And I would if it weren't for my dread of being the fool who takes the first big step. With Ruben everything was easier. Saturday night sex wasn't worth the minutes spent, however, with Blake, the axis of my planet begins to revolve around his caresses. And that in my walled galactic system is a step that causes me nervous incontinence.
I learned to skate without knee pads, or what is the same, without a mother. Luckily for me, grandma To?i loved me so much, that the patches I wear are few, and although the size of my wound is considerable, every morning when I wake up I try to cover it with colorful patches of poorly combined fabrics, but of intense shades. And if one of those days the deep trauma won't let me paint it, then I turn to the cover-up of Clark Kent's super curly-haired, gelled corkscrew. It's such a good mask that no gossip monger could ever discover my true, insecure identity. Abandonment, loneliness, sadness, heartbreak, fear, the super curl hides it all.
I sit on the couch and open the laptop.
What the decision can't the hours wrongly solve.
Podcasts of the last radio program. Here you are. Perfect!
I spend my idle time in front of the computer while keeping an eye on the clock. It's almost two o'clock in the afternoon. A good time to wake up. I take a deep breath before opening the door without knocking. I do it slowly. If he's naked or worse I close it and no one has seen me.
Light comes in through the half-open blind. I can't see him. I pull the rest of my body in, opening and closing my eyes in the intense search when an arm pulls me against the wall before closing the door with my leg.
-Shh-Blake's finger presses my mouth. We don't want him to hear us.
-I thought you were gone," she whispers into my fingers.
-I thought you were asleep," I say before tattooing his mouth on mine.
The scent of fresh mint wafts over me. I raise my arms to hold my palms behind the back of her neck. Her hair is damp and fresh. She must have showered when I went to buy the drinks. My fingers cross and tighten their curled grip behind the wet hair. I don't want to let go. These caresses are starting to become a staple on my list of vital needs. Blake's lips run up and down just behind my ear. Apparently someone has found his favorite corner. I pull him toward me. I want him closer. Accepting my outpourings I trap myself against his body and the wall, and though barely a pin fits between us the distance becomes unbearable for me. I want to cling to his warmth lost in his kisses. I open my mouth yielding to the power of his tongue inside mine. The taste of us travels through my blood. Blake's hands run nervously over me. I feel him caress my waist and climb up through my t-shirt. My breath hitches. My skin bristles every inch he ascends between my skin and the fabric. Gently, I feel his hand slip through my bra, pressing against the roundness of my breast. His mouth abandons my lips leaving them orphaned and bringing the moisture of his lips to my cleavage. I am a sea of unbalanced sensations seeking his shore. I move my legs against the friction of an insatiable satisfaction. I feel painfully empty. In my own madness I tug at his head hitting him even harder against my breasts. We both breathe with the extreme imperative to satisfy ourselves. He wants me, I need him. We are consumed by having each other.
-Sky... noises," the rough voice comments in my ear.
Teeth graze my shoulder one last time before he starts to let go.
-No," I say in despair. I refuse to abandon him.
-There's someone in the kitchen," he holds me by the shoulders. His eyes gleam hungrily. We can't now.
Unfulfilled desire clouds my reasoning. I don't understand what's going on. Where am I? Do ducks fly?
-My sister... I'm sorry.
-Mariam. Sure. I accept the short distance as a measure of refreshment.
Ring! Ring!
-The pizzas. I tug the T-shirt down hastily.
-Pizzas?
I ordered them when I went to get the drinks. I figured you might be hungry.
-You don't know how much," I bite my neck and accept it for the seconds it takes to hear Mariam's voice talking to the delivery man.
-Good morning. Both of you," he says mischievously as he sees us leave the room.
-When I woke up, you were asleep, so I went to buy drinks and it seemed to me that your brother was awake," the words of my explanation were stepping on each other's toes.
Mariam smiles, and Blake, heedless of the hot flush creeping up my ears, opens the cardboard cover.
-Pineapple? -He wiggles his nose with a disgusted look on his face.
-The other one is meat," he nods as he opens the second box. You shouldn't be so narrow-minded. The mixture of ham and fruit is the best.
-My palate is happy with what it tastes," he winks at me and the heat suffocates me.
-Mariam shows bravery until her brother shows her the pieces of fruit. Maybe later.
-You don't know how to recognize the good stuff," I answer, taking the first bite of the best Hawaiian pizza in Madrid.
The laptop starts talking and the three of us stare at it.
-I'm sorry," I say looking for the device, "I was listening to the podcast of the program. That's why I went to see if you were awake.
-I don't remember you mentioning it. His eyes flutter mischievously.
-I must have forgotten. Although now that you ask, I'll tell you.
-Did I ask? -He peels off a slice of barbecue pizza as I pull my chair close to his with my laptop in my hands. Honey, are you okay?
-Now I do. While we're having lunch I want you to listen to something.
-Is that a laptop?
-It's a bit old, but it still works.
-If something works, why change it?
-That's just what I think. What a coincidence. Mariam smiles and Blake denies as he eats.
-Remind me to buy one for you.
-You don't have to buy me anything. Now I want you to listen to this. Here it is, let's see... give me a moment. It takes a while to load.
-The strange thing is that it still loads.
-So you say you slept well?
-Until a dangerous girl snuck into my room. Yes.
Yes, I deserve it. With so many questions out there to pass the dead time and I'm going to pick the most idiotic one.
Blake swivels the chair around to face me. Mariam laughs as she chews.
-What about you? Did you dream about me?
-I'm almost there," the heat begins to burn in my cheeks, "I'm almost there... Here!
My voice comes out of my laptop. A year of being a radio announcer and it still feels weird to hear my voice on the other end.
-Here!
-Here what?
-Wait. Here. Now you're talking.
They both crane their necks trying to hear better.
-Isn't that the girl who called the radio?
-Yes, it's Alba. Do you remember her?
-How not to do it. She seemed desperate.
-That's why I wanted you to hear it.
-I can't comfort her, I'm a man caught. I'm sorry.
-Don't be silly," I am unable to hide the silly laugh.
-He holds me by the neck and pulls me so close to kiss me that I almost fall out of my chair.
-Blake! You're hurting him.
-I'm fine," I answer Mariam as I fix my disheveled hair. Are you going to help me, yes or no?
-I don't think I'm understanding.
-With the image of a boy you sure look like and inside you are naive.
-Ingenuous?
-That girl needs us. She is the meaning of the program. Solas was born for listeners like her.
-I still don't understand.
-You see, that girl was in very bad shape. She was crying for help and we have to help her.
-Do we have any?
-I need you. Please...
-Do you need me?
-A little bit. You see, the girls and I were thinking that if we found Alba she would dare to tell us the whole truth. Radio can be a bit cold. I'm sure if we knew each other personally we could do something for her.
-That's a great idea! Count me in.
-Assuming she wishes to be helped," Blake crosses his arms in denial of his sister.
-I could tell she was alone. With her words she was demanding someone to pay attention to her. Believe me, I know what that's like. You gave me the opportunity at the agency to feel better about myself, now I have to return the favor to life. I owe it to you.
-You owe nothing to anyone. You are magnificent and that's why I'm here with you. Period.
If his sister wasn't in front of him I would rip off his clothes and eat him like a shark.
-Blake, she needs me.
-Even if the phone number had been registered, you will not find any data. You would need a court order to know the address of the owner. In Europe the data protection laws are stricter than in my country.
-And this is where you come in.
-I do not intend to bribe any judge.
-I need you to identify sounds. I need you to identify the sounds
-Sounds?
-You said you were an engineer.
-I am, but what you need is an alien existence tracker.
-Don't be humble," Mariam focuses on me. He was at the top of his class. He is the best engineer of all.
-Since when did you start flattering me? I will not extend the limit of your VISA.
Mariam picks up the dishes while sticking her tongue out at him. Apparently it's some sort of code between siblings.
-Look, listen," he said, taking advantage of the good atmosphere to play the recording.
-I only hear noises.
-Exactly.
-Have I solved the mystery? I'm going to get the coffee.
-If you help me I promise to invite you to the best coffee in Madrid.
-Honey, you're going to drive me crazy. Help you what?
If he keeps talking to me with that sweetness I lock his sister in the kitchen and lay him on the table.
-If we recognize the sounds," I say, forgetting erotic images of Blake with pineapple chunks on his biceps, "we might know something about where he called us from.
-Assuming you were able to recognize a sound, what do you intend to do?
-Go for it.
-You're not going to go into a strange place! No. Absolutely not.
-Alba needs us
-And I need you.
-Then come with me.
Blake checks that Mariam is loading the dishwasher before speaking.
-I will help you if you meet my three conditions.
-Speak.
-We use my computer. Yours runs on pedals.
-He agreed.
-You're not going anywhere without me.
-That seems fair. -And the third?
-I'll tell you tonight when we're alone.
One more wink of the eye and I explode like a champagne cork eager to be savored.
I still don't understand how it holds up. We've been listening to the same audio for hours, and nothing. Just noise and more noise. Mariam has called a cab and left for boarding school. I'm beginning to doubt those math homework assignments were that important.
-I might as well separate the basses.
Blake has been listening to the same audio for what we don't know. He's so tired that he's plopped down on the floor next to the computer. He's wearing jeans and one of those black T-shirts he likes so much.
If people were moments, he would be the winter afternoon and I would be the rainbow in the rain. His sobriety stands out against my constant need to paint the misfortunes of life. If I wear black, red shoes. If I wear white, a touch of blue. For casual, my Converse do not fail. Small details that paint the day with a little bit of happiness.
They say we are what we act. I would add that we are also what we color. Blake is the picture of perfect seriousness. Taking on the legal guardianship of his sister, and I imagine, with an inherited business, he is always on the lookout. He never relaxes. He watches in silence. He looks into the depths and never acts on impulse. Line by line his body outlines measured perfection. His clothes, his way of speaking, his penetrating gaze, everything is correct harmony that does not go out of the picture. Everything, except that hair cut with uneven scissors. You have to treat him a lot to recognize in that small detail the touch of rebelliousness that he releases in front of very few. Last night with Mariam and me he did it. And I loved it.
-I brought Coke. Would you like a fresh glass?
-More caffeine. Why not? -He says, accepting the glass and making the ice cubes dance with the sway of his finger. This is getting complicated.
She has a beautiful smile. His eyes are black as freshly tilled fields damp with dew. His dark hair rises in long, disheveled bangs that he tugs at with his fingers when he's nervous. Blake in Netflix movies would be the silent handsome guy watching the girl from the bar, hiding the mischievous smile behind the crystal glass he raises to his lips.
-Did you grow up with your uncle?
-Let's say she took us in," he says, looking up from the computer. Matilda was in charge of taking care of us.
-A kind of governess.
-I don't like to call her that. Matilda has worked in my house since long before I was born. She took care of us when my parents traveled for work and even fought to keep my uncle from taking her away from us. Mariam adores her. Currently she has been left taking care of the house, although she calls me every day to ask if I am doing well and if Mariam is studying properly.
-My grandmother To?i did the same with me.
-They're all the same," she replies, smiling. You can tell how much he loves her.
-Did your father work with your mother at the agency?
-My father? No, he was an engineer. He managed to create a program for start-ups, and he worked at it until a drunk crashed into his car. That night they were going to celebrate one of his victories.
I am silent thinking about the pain of that child when he received the news that he no longer had parents. The collapse of his world and the pain of feeling alone and abandoned.
-What a fun combination. An engineer and an artist," I say, breaking the ice.
-Yes, they were," he says, staring at the wall. Mariam is just as funny as she is. He can hardly remember her, yet she looks so much like her.
-And you look like your father?
-Not physically. I am identical to my mother. Same hair and same look, but with my father's stubborn spirit. Mariam is blonde like my father and sweet like my mother. Matilda says that before we were born we were mixed like a cocktail.
-Don't you have grandparents?
-No.
-And girlfriend?
-I thought she was in front of me.
The heat rises in me. I burn and combust. I'm passed out with heart-shaped discs surrounding my head.
-You know what I'm talking about. You're a handsome boy.
-Am I?
-Let's keep it interesting.
-Interesting? I think I like him more than handsome.
-Don't fob me off. You know what I'm talking about. You must have had a lot of short-lived relationships. Or one very long one. Or several short ones and one long one.
He moves away from the laptop to get closer. We are both on the floor.
-I have not had any relationship, neither long nor short. You are free to ask me anything you want. I know that Anthony has been inquiring about my past. And I also know that he talked to you.
-He didn't mean it in a bad way.
-I know. Although from now on I wish he wouldn't stick his nose between us.
-Then what he said is true.
-I can't deny it.
I duck my head. A part of me was crossing my fingers hoping that Anthony's information wasn't true. Knowing him so cold and capable of sleeping with one and the other without distinction makes me feel vulnerable. A gnat in a rose bush crowded with beautiful butterflies. An insignificant one.
-You are different.
-I imagine so.
I stand up. I have no right to complain about his past, but neither does he have the right to ask me not to feel like that girl in the soap opera, sniffling and saying that she would never have imagined it. That it was different with her. That he did love her.
-Sofia, please look at me," hands on my shoulders ask me to turn around. I don't want to. Tears are wetting my eyelids. One chance. That's all I ask for. I don't need more.
-I don't know if I want to," I say, remembering the horns Ruben made me his protagonist.
-Don't say that. You destroy me. With you everything is different. With you I found the desire to stay in the same place. Next to you my incomplete part is filled with meaning. You have to believe me.
I turn to face him.
-Sometimes you talk in a way that makes me doubt -I'm annoyed and it shows-. I'm not special. Those girls were agency models. An agency! Girls without a flaw, yet you insist that I'm different and that you've fallen in love with me. Me! I'm not sure if you're lying or crazy. Or both at the same time.
He lets go of me. It feels like I just stabbed him in the center of his pride. We both spend eternal seconds motionless and silent until his hand clings to mine pulling me closer to the couch asking me to sit down.
-I don't want to.
-I understand perfectly well that you are upset. Believe me, when I hear Ruben's name my stomach turns the same way.
-It's not the same! He lied to me. I don't want to go through it again. A thousand times I would accept a painful truth over a lie sweetened with sweetener. If you just want to have a good time, it's time to say so, but don't laugh at me... please. It's not an imposition, it's a plea.
-I love you. I have since before I knew your name was Sofia. Neither one of us can hide the blots of the past, but what I can do is accept the name I want to write in my future. They meant nothing, and while it may not be a worthy excuse, it is sincere. I never cheated on them. I never told any of them that I loved them. Not one of them I felt this way about you. Since I've been in this house I've never looked at another. I swear it.
-Remember the redhead sitting on your lap?
-You are unfair. That was silly. Besides, I haven't tried you yet," he caresses my hand, "I swear I wouldn't even touch my legs right now," he settles next to me, lifting my chin with his fingers. I really like you. I'm sincere.
-If you cheat me, if you lie, if I feel that..." His index finger crosses my lips to silence them.
-And do I confess that I loved you even when you were not there?
He kisses me softly. I accept it with mistrust. My ex's horns are a diploma earned by infinite imbecility.
-I'd better go to bed. Tomorrow I start a new job. Good night.
Blake nods and lets me go. Did he expect me to stop? Maybe he did. Or maybe not. How should I know! By now my north is at the south pole bridging pine.