Chapter 10
“I bid you farewell, and perhaps, with this goodbye,
my most beautiful dream dies within me...
But I bid you farewell, for all my life,
even though all my life I’ll keep thinking of you”
— José ángel Buesa
I opened my eyes and the first thing I felt was an enormous, throbbing headache, especially in the frontal area.
I brought my hands to my temples and pressed, hoping to ease the annoying pain.
The second thing I noticed was that I was lying in a bed that wasn’t mine but one I knew very well—it was Henry’s bed, though he wasn’t there.
I sat up immediately, but I don’t know if it was because of the sudden movement, but everything spun around me and I had to rest my head back on the pillow.
My experience with alcohol had turned out disastrous.
I felt a general discomfort, both physically and emotionally, because I also felt sad, though I wasn’t clear about the reasons.
I made an effort to remember how I had ended up there, but the last thing my brain registered was the image of Henry embracing a woman.
If he was with someone else, what am I doing in his bed? I questioned myself.
Once again, fury and sadness took hold of me.
I had to get up and leave there as soon as possible.
I sat up in bed again, this time more slowly, and managed to keep everything in place—nothing spun.
At that moment, I noticed I was in my underwear and felt ashamed of myself for not remembering anything.
Had I allowed that man to seduce me again? You’re an idiot! I told myself.
On the nightstand was a glass and a pitcher of water. I poured some and took small sips, though at first I would have drunk the entire pitcher because I was very thirsty and my throat was dry.
Very slowly, I placed my feet on the floor and, when I was sure my legs could support me, I gradually stood up, though my headache intensified.
I slowly walked to the bathroom and locked the door.
When I turned on the light, I had to close my eyes because I thought I would go blind.
Fearfully, I opened them little by little, and when I looked at myself in the mirror, I was horrified—my eyes were red, I had dark circles, and my makeup was completely smeared. I was a walking disaster!
I turned on the shower and waited for the water to get warm, then stepped under the stream and stayed there for several minutes, not wanting to think about anything. I wanted the earth to open up, swallow me, and spit me out on the other side of the world. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.
When I got out of the shower, I looked better, but the dark circles were still there, not to mention the physical discomfort. I was never going to drink again in my life.
I put my underwear back on and wrapped myself in a towel.
I opened the door a bit fearfully, and my fears came true because Henry was sitting on the bed, looking at me with overwhelming seriousness.
I stood in the middle of the room, looking at him with the same seriousness that he was showing, or at least I tried, because competing with that serious face wasn’t for just anyone.
“I see you’re feeling better,” he stated, looking me up and down.
“Can you explain what I’m doing in your house?”
“I had to bring you because you were completely drunk and making an embarrassing spectacle of yourself at the pub,” he stated, standing up but keeping his distance from me.
“What?”
“You heard me. If you don’t know how to drink, you shouldn’t do it. You should be aware of your capacity for alcohol consumption. With that drunkenness, you put yourself in danger and...”
“Wait!” I said, raising my hand to stop his unsolicited advice. “I didn’t ask you to help me, and much less did I ask for advice on what to do with my life. Don’t start again with your speech about my age and immaturity and blah, blah, blah, because I’ve had enough of that.”
“You should be grateful that I got you out of there before that guy took advantage of you,” he said arrogantly.
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” I said, shaking my head, though the movements caused a sharp pain that I had to hide.
“Why do you think you have the right to bring me to your house? I was with my friends, including your sister, and I know they would have helped me. I didn’t need anything from you, I don’t need anything now, and I will never need anything from you. ”
“That guy didn’t seem to want to help you; he just wanted to get his hands on you,” he stated calmly.
“And what’s wrong with that? Are you saying it’s better if you do it?” I asked, and his eyes narrowed, looking at me with deadly anger.
“I didn’t put my hands on you. I just laid you on the bed and took off your clothes so you would be more comfortable, and I didn’t see anything I hadn’t seen before,” he clarified, and the fact that nothing had happened between us reassured me, but he seemed to be getting angrier by the minute.
“And by what right do you decide what’s best for me? I wanted that guy, whose name is Nacho and with whom I was having a great time, to have put his hands all over me if he wanted,” I stated, not believing what I had just said because I wasn’t the type to say such things.
Henry approached in two strides until he was standing in front of me, looking at me with indescribable fury, but I raised my head and challenged him.
“You were planning to sleep with that guy?”
“I wasn’t just planning to, I still plan to get him into my bed.”
“You’re not the kind of woman who sleeps with just anyone. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be a virgin!” he exclaimed, his face distorted with anger.
“Are you trying to tell me that by sleeping with me you did me a favor? As if being a virgin was some disease that you cured? You’re an idiot!”
His words made my fury reach potentially dangerous levels.
I couldn’t think, I could only feel rage and disappointment.
I felt unable to contain the anger that coursed through my entire body like fire burning inside me.
To avoid doing something I might regret, I clenched my fists so tightly I could almost hear my joints cracking and restrained the impulse to slap him or worse, deliver a good knee to his groin.
I took a deep breath and stormed past him.
I headed to an armchair in the room where my dress was placed.
“I didn’t say that,” he stated, running his hand through his hair as if he were going mad.
“I’m leaving. I don’t want to see you or hear from you ever again. Get out of the room right now because I need to get dressed.”
“I’m not leaving until we talk.”
“You’ve already said too much. I have nothing more to say to you, absolutely nothing!” I declared, making a great effort to hold back my tears.
“Of course we need to talk.”
Seeing that he was still there with no intention of moving, I grabbed my dress and headed to the bathroom, but as I passed by him, he grabbed my arm.
“Dalina, we need to talk, don’t behave like...” and he stopped before saying what I already knew he would say: “a spoiled child,” which was evidently how he saw me.
“Go on, finish the sentence, say what you always say to me,” I challenged him, but he just stared at me without saying anything. “Let me go!” I exclaimed, struggling to free my arm.
“If you want me to let you go, sit down and let’s talk calmly.”
“There’s nothing more to talk about. This stubborn and disobedient child who tests your patience and isn’t up to your standards or those of your lovers is leaving,” I said sarcastically.
“Stop with that and let’s talk,” he said, releasing me, but still looking at me seriously.
“No, Henry,” I said, a little calmer, as there was no point in continuing to confront each other this way.
“I have nothing more to say, and I think you’ve made it clear what you think of me and our relationship.
Moreover, last night you were with a woman, presumably one old enough for you to have a better time with than with me. ”
“I can’t forget your words. You were hurtful, unfair, and very cynical.
I also can’t forget that I saw you with another woman just days after being with me, and you weren’t only with her that night.
Your sister also saw you on previous days with that woman or perhaps another one. Who knows how many you’ve been with.”
“I can only acknowledge that we were wrong and that we are very different. Not better or worse, just different. It’s clear that I’m not good for you, and you’re not good for me either.”
“Having said all this, I can only ask you to leave because I want to get dressed so I can get out of here as soon as possible.”
The whole time he was looking into my eyes, never once attempting to interrupt me. He listened with great attention, though I could see his expression changing, shifting from a serious and authoritative look to one that made him appear confused.
“May I speak?” he asked, and seeing that I said nothing, he added, “I listened to you, now I’m just asking for a few minutes to say some things I need you to know.”
“Make it quick because I want to get out of here as soon as possible.”
“I apologize because the other day I hurt you with very unfortunate words. I know what I said was misguided and hurtful. It’s not what I think.”
“Apology accepted, Henry. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to leave,” I said.
“I’m not finished,” he pointed out. “I agree with you that we are different, but everyone is, right? We are from the moment we have different experiences and so many other things. Most likely, until the day we met, we had nothing in common.”
“We still don’t,” I stated, interrupting him.
“I disagree. We may be different in many ways, but we can complement each other.”
“No, Henry. I don’t want to continue with us, I really can’t.
It’s better to leave it like this before we really cause irreversible damage to each other.
” I wasn’t going to tell him that the damage was already done because I had hopelessly fallen in love with him.
“I really want to leave, my head hurts a lot and I want to get back to the hotel. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me get dressed. ”
He ran his hands through his hair, then looked at me, and for the first time since I’d known him, I thought I glimpsed some vulnerability, and I don’t know if it was my imagination or my own pain, but his eyes seemed to look at me with sadness.
“What if I don’t want you to go?”
“Why do you want me to stay? What I can give you, you can also get from the women you see daily, and you get along much better with them than with me, at least that’s what you told me.”
“I already told you that’s not what I think,” he stated.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I said, dejected.
He moved away from me and sat on the bed. He looked lost, and I began to feel a little compassion for him, but only a little.
“Maybe you’re right. You’re very young and can have all the fun you want without attachments. I shouldn’t be so selfish as to limit you just to enjoy some time with you.”
“Just to enjoy some time with you” resonated in my head.
That proved I was making the right decision.
Henry was only with me to enjoy the sex for a while, nothing more.
If I continued with this relationship feeling this overwhelming emotion for him that grew stronger each day, I would end up much more disappointed and hurt.
I had to be realistic and protect my heart and sanity by making a sensible decision.
He stood up and positioned himself next to me, looking at me with sadness. He took my chin and gave me a delicate kiss on the cheek.
“You’re special, Dalina. Be happy, you deserve it.”
And with that phrase hanging in the air, he left his bedroom without looking back at me.
When I heard the door close, I collapsed.
I locked myself in the bathroom and began to cry inconsolably.
I knew it was for the best, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
I loved him, but it was clear that my feelings weren’t reciprocated.
I couldn’t open my heart to him; it would hurt much more than keeping silent and keeping that feeling to myself.
I don’t know why, but at that moment I remembered my friend Sean’s words: “Is there anything more depressing than loving someone who we know will never love us back?” How right he was!
Now I understood it better. It truly was depressing and very painful, but I couldn’t do anything because that feeling knows no logic.
With my spirits crushed, I washed my face, fixed my hair a bit, and got dressed. I didn’t want to look defeated, even though that’s how I felt because I had lost, and the pain of that loss was immense.
Had I lost him?
No; I couldn’t lose him because he had never been mine.
I had lost the hope that someday he might love me.
Hurricane Henry had passed through my life, leaving it completely devastated.
I reached the living room and found him standing by the window, hands in his jean pockets, looking outside.
As soon as he heard my footsteps, he turned and stared at me.
His gaze destabilized me because he looked like a broken man.
I didn’t understand why he looked that way; he didn’t feel anything for me.
I couldn’t believe he felt hurt about not being able to sleep with me anymore; he had all the women he wanted at his disposal.
He knew clearly about all the relationships waiting for him out there, and I was aware of that too.
He just had to snap his fingers and he’d be surrounded by women willing to do anything to be with him.
He knew it, and so did I. So why did he look like his world had crumbled?
Honestly, I didn’t understand, but I wasn’t going to analyze it either. It was time to think about myself.
“Did Niky give you my things?” I asked, trying to appear calm.
“They’re on that table,” he said, pointing to the living room table where my clutch was.
I walked over there feeling his gaze fixed on me. When I picked up my things, I turned and looked at him.
“There’s nothing more painful than saying goodbye when you’re in love,” I thought.
“Take care,” I said, without approaching him, and silently wished for his happiness.
Henry just nodded and continued looking at me with what seemed to me like enormous sadness and distress, but without saying anything.
I turned and left his apartment as quickly as my legs would allow. As I was closing the door, I thought I heard him calling me, but I closed it without making sure if he had.