Chapter 23
In the following weeks, time seems to fly by.
Between the restaurant doing more business than we ever could have dreamed and Beatriz leaving, my grandparents have been able to hire Lucas and Ian, two new servers.
I’m pretty sure Emilia has a crush on Ian.
She’s better at her job than all of us combined and had never broken a plate or glass before, but she dropped a Son of a Peach on Ian’s very first day at work when he asked her where to find the cocktail glasses.
Her face went bright red and the words coming out of her mouth sounded a whole lot like the name of the smoothie that was now splattered all over the ground.
Ian seemed oblivious to her embarrassment, but he jumped to help her clean up the shards of glass.
I watched the whole scene unfold with a wide grin on my face.
Once Ian walked back out onto the patio, Emilia gave me an intense don’t-you-dare-say-a-word stare down.
Aside from the fact that I now get to enjoy Emilia and Ian’s extreme cuteness—they’ve been orbiting around each other like two toddlers on a carousel—we’ve also outfitted the inside of the restaurant with new tables and chairs, and a number of pendant lights with large rattan lamp shades.
The indoor space looks a little more minimalist than the patio since we didn’t add the same colourful cushions, but of course we did bring the colour theme indoors with the dark teal accent wall I painted with Elias.
With the peak season nearly over, the weather could take a turn for the worse at any time. While that also means the summer holidays are coming to a close, Ibiza’s tourist industry is much more of a year-round draw these days, so I’m not too concerned about our revenue in the coming months.
I’ve been seeing Elias almost every day, but we’re inching closer to the moment when we’ll have to say goodbye.
It’s a topic we’ve managed to avoid bringing up so far.
Either I head over to see him after my shifts or, whenever I’m closing, he comes to meet me at my place and we end up spending the night in my tiny room in a bed that’s much too small for two.
Not that it really matters—once we fall asleep, we probably don’t use much more than a twin bed’s worth of space for the both of us.
On my days off, Elias has been taking me out to see all of Ibiza’s hidden gems, like Punta Galera, a bay with gorgeous rock formations where we found a more or less horizontal spot to lay out our towels and enjoy the afternoon.
Or a private jeep safari in his Land Rover where he raced along the dusty backroads of the inland to show off Ibiza’s stunning scenery.
Today, he’s brought me to a little restaurant that catches, prepares, and serves the most delectable fresh fish.
It means they don’t have a fixed menu and instead just share the chef’s daily special on a chalkboard.
It’s cozy and intimate with candles lighting the patio and romantic Spanish music playing in the background.
Mmmmm, I say, taking a bite from my doradoe. With my eyes closed, I notice how the buttery soft fish just melts away on my tongue. Elias is watching me with a smile as he dips a potato wedge into mayo.
I told you that you were about to have the most delicious fish you’ve ever tasted, he says with a proud chuckle.
Nice move, Castillo, I say, giving him a playful glare.
You sure do know how to make a girl fall in love with you.
As soon as the words are out, I freeze and stare at him, stunned.
This is the first time I’ve put a label on this thing happening between us.
The first time I’ve acknowledged it out loud as anything more than a happy distraction or a summer crush.
Elias looks just as stunned as I do.
For a split second, I’m expecting him to stand up and sprint off into the distance, just like a Tinder date who only bargained for a wild one-night-stand would do.
My eyes go wide as I scramble to fix my error.
I, um... I mean... But then I realize Elias is still sitting firmly in his seat with an unreadable expression on his face.
I snap my jaw shut and give him a hesitant smile, then quickly take a sip of my wine and stare at my plate of fish to avoid blurting out any more unplanned confessions.
Something casual. Change the subject to something casual.
Anyway, would you agree that bitterballen are the perfect deep-fried snack?
Elias’s expression is unchanged and I’m having trouble reading him.
I’m cringing on the inside. Not that it stops me from making an even bigger fool of myself.
Because, um... A bitterbal is the perfect size for a snack and it pairs well with all kinds of sauces, I rattle on.
You can have it with the classic—mustard—but I recently found out that curry ketchup and chilli sauce are winners, too.
I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone who doesn’t love bitterballen.
.. In fact, now that I’m thinking about it.
.. Maybe we should add them to the restaurant menu.
I feel embarrassment colour my cheeks bright red and a silence falls between us.
Bitter-what-en? Elias finally asks with a huge grin on his face.
During the drive back, I don’t fill the silence with endless babbling about famous Dutch breaded, deep-fried, meat-filled appetizer bites.
Instead, there’s just the gentle music that emanates from Elias’s car stereo.
When a new song comes on, I’m caught off guard by the track info that appears on the little screen: What If I Told You I’m In Love With You by Eduard de Vries.
Ed de Vries is the former street performer who won a major reality singing competition in the Netherlands last winter.
Since then, he’s been scoring hit after hit back home.
I love his music, too, but I had no idea he was starting to make waves internationally, let alone with songs like this one.
I quickly hit a button and manage to change the radio station before the lyrics kick in.
Damn it. It’s one of my last nights with Elias and I ruin everything by telling him I’m in love with him?
! Although... Did I really say those exact words?
If he ever brings it up, I might be able to get away with a version of Oh, that?
That’s a completely normal expression that Dutch people use. Totally didn’t mean anything by it.
I watch through the window as streetlights and palm trees zip in and out of view. Our faces are occasionally lit up by the bright headlights of oncoming traffic.
But why didn’t he say anything? Why did he just stare at me with that stupid smile on his face? Was he enjoying the fact that I was making a fool of myself?
Now that we’re halfway through September, sunset happens much earlier than it once did, and the full moon is already on full display in the sky above us.
By the time Elias pulls into his driveway, it’s completely dark out and I’m feeling pretty disappointed.
After the bitterballen fiasco, we just kept broaching more food-related topics, as if Elias was desperately trying to dance around the topic of love, too.
I’m so absorbed in thought that I don’t even notice when the motion-controlled lights along the driveway pop on and the car comes to a stop.
Hey, says the soft voice to my left, and I feel his warm hand touch my face. He gently turns me toward him to give me a quick kiss. There’s an unsure look in his eyes. You okay?
Absolutely, I reply, turning around to open the passenger-side door. All good. I emphasize my point by shutting the door a little more vigorously than I normally would before marching steadily toward the front door. Behind me, I hear Elias pick up his pace to catch up with me.
Once we’re inside with the lights on, Elias gives me a slightly helpless look. On our previous date nights, this is when he would urgently press me up against the wall, kiss me until my toes curled, then take me to his bedroom and make me forget about everything I’d ever known.
But not tonight. Tonight, he’s biting his lip and gesturing awkwardly towards the living room. Do you... Do you feel like watching a movie? His eyes dart over my face and he makes a hesitant attempt at a smile.
I blink a few times. A movie? He seriously wants to watch a movie right now? Admittedly, it does sound tempting not to have to fill this weirdness we created over the past hour with uncomfortable conversation and forced laughter.
Sounds good, I hear myself reply.
Elias leads me to the living room and flops down on the massive, taupe sofa in the middle of the spacious room. Turning on the tv, he gives me an inquisitive look.
What are you in the mood for?
I plop down next to him, a touch further away than I normally would, and shrug. No preference. It’s your call.
He scrolls through the options as I stare down at my fingers, watching myself pluck at the hem of my short wrap skirt.
The Universal Pictures intro song starts to play and I look up in surprise when I hear Hugh Grant’s voice explain that he thinks about the Heathrow Airport arrivals gate whenever he’s feeling a bit gloomy.
Great. He picked Love, Actually. The ultimate movie full of will-they-won’t-they couples who take forever to get to the point of declaring their undying love to one another.
To be fair, he’s never seen the movie before, but the title should be a pretty clear indicator that this is the worst possible moment for this cinematic choice, right?
I wiggle a little in my seat as we witness Sarah hopelessly in love with her coworker and watch the retired horndog rock star answer interview questions in the most mortifying way possible.
I can sense Elias sneaking little glances my way and laughing at jokes throughout the movie.
By the time thirteen-year-old Sam is running through the airport to catch up with the love of his life, Joanna, I can barely hold back.
This is how it’s supposed to go. If you’re truly in love with someone, you need to find the courage to say it.
No games, no silent treatments, no monologues about fried appetizers.
No. Just be clear about how you feel and, sure, that could lead to the kind of situation you’ll find yourself reliving over and over again any time you have trouble falling asleep, but the same could honestly be said about keeping your feelings bottled up.
I feel adrenaline coursing through my body and I can hear my heartbeat in my ears when I get up.
I look over at Elias, who has his arm casually draped along the back of the couch as he watches my every move.
God Only Knows is playing in the background and I know precisely which scene is on the screen right now.
Why didn’t you say anything back to me during dinner? I ask in a shaky voice.
Elias’s eyes grow a little wider and he runs a hand through his hair, causing it to spike up in disarray. I... Uh... What?
I told you I was in love with you... And you said... nothing. Nothing at all. I try to swallow the lump that’s forming in my throat. Elias gets up, too, and stares at me with an unexplained look in his eyes.
Why? I demand to know. Anything would have been better than letting me rattle on about bitterballen.
Eva... Elias lifts up an arm, like he’s thinking of wrapping it around me, but he changes his mind and drops it back down to his side.
He looks at me hesitantly, then shakes his head.
You’re going home soon, Eva. You’re going home in six days and then this, he waves his hand through the space between us, will be over.
We fall silent again as we gaze at each other. Elias looks wistful and a bit cautious.
So... I bite my lip and let the events of the past weeks flash through my mind. The dive, our night on the beach, exploring Ibiza’s most beautiful locations, spending entire days in bed together, laughing fits, all the warm, affectionate looks. You don’t have any feelings for me?
Breathing quickly, Elias squeezes his hands into fists, then relaxes them again.
What do you want me to say? He shakes his head gently.
Do you want me to admit I’m hopelessly in love with you?
That I feel beyond lucky that I get to fall asleep with you in my arms almost every night and wake up next to you in the morning?
That I’ve never felt anything like this before?
That I’m sick to my stomach at the thought of you leaving soon?
His voice becomes louder with every word out of his mouth while his expression just gets more and more miserable.
I’ve gone completely quiet as I stare at him with wide eyes.
Elias looks away as he continues to speak, sounding much quieter now. Did you really want me to say it all out loud and make everything I’m feeling even more real and terrifying? All just to watch you get onto that plane in six days?
His final sentence is only a hint of a whisper, so quiet I can barely hear him. His nostrils are flared and he’s staring at me, eyes flooded with emotions. I feel like... a total bitch.
I open my mouth, then close it again, unsure what to say next. I’m sorry, turns out to be the best thing I can come up with.
There’s another awkward silence.
Do you... Do you want me to leave? I finally ask.
Elias swallows repeatedly and a sad smile appears on his face. No, he says eventually. But maybe it’s for the best.
My eyes are locked onto his face. Part of me wants to scream that all of this is ridiculous.
That we can still make the most of our last days together.
That I might even be back to help Abuelo and Abuela once in a while.
That we’ll be able to see each other whenever that happens.
But I know it’s pointless, so I slowly nod and pick my purse up off the couch.
You’re right, I finally admit, groping around for my phone as I feel tears begin to well up. It’s for the best.
Can I take you home? he offers, like the gentleman he is, but I can see he’s getting teary, too.
I shake my head. Thanks, but I think it’s better if I just call a cab, I reply, making my way to the front door. When I place my hand on the doorknob, I look over my shoulder to see that Elias has followed me into the hall. I feel like I should say something, but I’m not sure what.
Thank you, I ultimately manage. There’s so much wrapped up in those two small words.
Elias gives me a quick nod. Once I’ve closed the door behind me, the first of many tears rolls down my cheek.