Chapter 21 #2
His perspective is so positive, even though I know the whole situation is wearing on him.
It goes to show how different things are culturally here in Spain compared to back home in the States.
I can’t think of many people who’d put the happiness of their family first instead of themselves.
It only serves to grow my attraction to him.
“You’re a good son and nephew, Fernando. ”
“Gracias. I try to be.”
At dinner, I’m seated between two of Fernando’s teenage cousins, who spend the meal practicing their English skills with me.
I attempt some Spanish, but quickly realize the dialect the kids speak doesn’t come close to what I learned in high school.
I soon abandon all attempts in favor of English.
By the time dessert rolls around, the teens have moved on to doomscrolling through their phones.
Fernando drops into the spare seat next to me before anyone else can claim it. “How did you find Alejandra and Valentina?”
“They were sweet, but the novelty of having an American here wore off when we exhausted the questions about food and TV and they found out I’m not a soccer fan.” I giggle. “I never realized how much of a following it has over here.”
“Whichever football club you support is a major deal,” he emphasizes.
“Even if I know nothing about the sport?”
“Sí. Our family is divided. Half support Barcelona and the other half support Madrid. Whichever team you choose is the tiebreaker.”
“And who do you support?” I ask, poking him in the chest.
“Barcelona, of course. They’re the hometown team.” He sits taller. “Just because I skate doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy watching football. I watch whenever a game is on, which isn’t often. Most of the time the networks only show the English Premier League.”
“As your girlfriend who knows nothing about sports, I’ll go with whatever team you like. So I guess by default, I’m a Barcelona fan.”
He grins. “That’ll make Papá happy.”
“Is now a good time to meet him?”
Fernando glances at the end of the table, where Mr. Alvarez has just joined the family and is speaking to Tía Maria’s husband as he makes a plate for himself. “I guess now is as good a time as any.”
We stand up and walk toward them. I have my first opportunity to study Fernando’s father.
Mr. Alvarez looks to be in his mid to late fifties.
Although he’s balding, he still has a youthful look about him.
He has the same olive skin and chocolate-brown eyes as his son.
Now that I’ve seen both Fernando’s parents, I notice that he favors his dad’s side.
By contrast, the man next to him, his uncle, appears to be a few years younger than Fernando’s father. He has light-brown hair, a neat beard, and blue eyes.
As we approach, Fernando’s uncle elbows Mr. Alvarez in the ribs. The two men stop and turn their attention to us.
“Hola,” they greet us.
“Hola, Tío, Papá. I’m excited to introduce you to someone very special.” Fernando kisses my cheek. “This is Ava, my girlfriend.”
“Hola. Encantado de conocerte,” I manage, hoping I’ve said “it’s nice to meet you,” and not something else that was totally rude or wrong. Who knows with this dialect.
“Bienvenida, Ava. Welcome,” Mr. Alvarez starts, but then his attention wavers. His face breaks out into a smile, and he waves. “Ah, Isabel, you’ve made it. Come and join us.”
What the heck? At hearing that name, goosebumps form on my arm, and I blink a few times. I spin around and see a woman with red hair pulled back into a low ponytail. She’s wearing black leggings and a fitted pink zip-up jacket.
She floats up to Mr. Alvarez, who stands to hug her. “Jorge, it’s been too long.”
I swallow hard. My hand reaches for Fernando’s, but he doesn’t take it. His are balled into fists. His cheeks and neck are flushed a deep shade of red. His posture is as stiff as a two-by-four board.
“Your parents, they’re doing well?” Fernando’s father asks, releasing her.
“Sí. They’re same as ever, still running the family bakery. They send their regards.”
“Good to hear.” He nods and clears his throat. “Your timing is perfecto. My son only just arrived in Santa Luz today. I’m sure you two have lots of catching up to do.” He winks.
Isabel lifts her chin and locks eyes with Fernando. “Yes, we do.”
“Isabel,” he says gruffly. His hands open and close, and his frown deepens. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Her eyes widen and she splays a hand on her chest. I can’t tell if she’s purposefully being dramatic or if she’s genuinely surprised.
“Fernando! Where are your manners?! She’s a guest,” Mr. Alvarez says, his voice rising.
“They flew out the door when she cut me out of her life.” Fernando’s voice stays deadly quiet as he turns to face his father.
“And if we’re speaking of manners, where are yours, Papá?
” Fernando wraps his arm protectively around my shoulder and pulls me closer to him.
His chest is heaving. “I brought Ava here to meet everyone, and instead of getting to know her, you brushed her aside for Isabel.”
“Fernando,” Isabel says, “be reasonable. It’s time to let go of the past. There’s no reason to hold a grudge.”
“I don’t hold grudges. I just choose not to associate with people who make it clear they don’t want me in their lives. You’ve had more than five years to contact me if you wanted to talk. Well, time’s up.” His voice remains calm.
“Isabel, ignore him. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Mr. Alvarez says.
“No, Papá. I’ve never been more certain of myself. Any love that may have existed between us is gone.” He shakes his head. “I know you’ve always wanted me to come home, run the bed and breakfast, and marry Isabel, but that isn’t ever going to happen. My life is in America with Ava.”
Mr. Alvarez’s lips thin. “There is nothing for you in America that Spain doesn’t have.”
My eyes dart between the three of them. I don’t know what to say or do. I feel like a dog who’s been placed inside a kennel, watching people toss a ball back and forth.
“Isabel!” Mamá Alvarez says, coming up to us slightly out of breath. “This is a surprise.”
“Papá invited her over,” Fernando says in a flat voice.
“I see.”
“Hello, Julissa,” Isabel says.
“Hola,” Mamá Alvarez replies. “Sorry to interrupt, but Jorge, you’re needed at the front desk. Carlos is ready to take his dinner break. It’s your turn to cover for him.”
“But Julissa . . .” he says.
Mamá Alvarez lowers her chin and gives him a stern look.
He mutters something in Spanish, shoves his hands into his pockets, and takes a deep breath.
“Yes, dear.” He takes a few steps toward the door.
Then as if he’s only just noticed I’m still here, he stops, his cheeks flushed.
“Ava, I’m sorry for ignoring you. If you’re free, I’d like to get to know you better later. ”
I bite my tongue, offended by how he’s treated me so far. “Okay,” I manage.
Mr. Alvarez shuffles inside.
“Jorge will apologize properly later,” Mamá Alvarez interjects. “Fernando, Isabel, I’ll leave you two to talk. Ava, please come with me.”
“Mamá, we don’t need to chat. She’s leaving,” Fernando says.
“Some things never change. You’ve always been stubborn.” Isabel huffs. “Look, I get you’re still hurt, but I’ve come all this way to see you. The least you can do is hear what I have to say for old times’ sake.”
“Fernando, please,” his mother says.
He pinches his lips together. “Fine. I’ll do it for you, Mamá.”
Satisfied, Mamá Alvarez nods. “We’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done.”
Like a sheep being herded by a collie, Fernando’s mom guides me to the kitchen, leaving her son and his ex-fiancée alone. I can’t believe she’s supporting this. I want her to know how angry it makes me, but I can’t seem to find my voice.