Blake
-Where am I?
-We are here.
-Where?
-Home.
-Am I in America?
-Your home.
-My house. Your house," he replies, imitating a newly arrived American. If he wasn't so angry, he would burst out laughing.
-Are you making fun of my accent?
-From you, noooo," she replies, wearing her hair above her lip.
-I don't wear a mustache.
-It would look good on you. And a beard. He says, circling his tiny chin with the full length of his unruly mane. I clench my jaw, refusing to acknowledge that she's as cute as she is funny. Since I've been here, she hasn't stopped making me smile. Considering my past, that says a lot about her. She's so fresh that I could spend days inhaling her scent of life. Sometimes sadness peeks through her almond gaze, but they are flashes that she quickly hides as if her desire for improvement outweighs any sorrow from the past. She is so strong, intelligent and exquisite that I would eat her savoring every drop of honey of her essence making her mine. I would let myself be surrounded by her sweetness until I feel able to smile as naturally as she lives.
-Let's go. Look. It's like this. Fragile fingers try to lift the corners of my lips.
-You're like a vat. I'm dying of tenderness. I can't help it.
-You don't... Ouch!
-I got you.
-Put me down.
-In the last twenty steps you have been about to fall exactly twenty times. The same number of steps as falls.
-I stumbled.
It's true. Stumbles of too little importance to justify me carrying you in my arms. The problem is not your drunkenness but the pleasure it gives me to feel you clinging to my chest. Seeing you drunk gives me a feeling of complementary fury and tenderness. I want to embrace you and protect you with my body. To wrap you in me and tell you who I am. You didn't deserve the suffering of abandonment. I feel like a piece of trash unworthy of your company. I should have tried so much harder to find you. Mariam is right, we are a dream turned into destiny.
-I can..." You lean your head on my shoulder. You look asleep. Your disheveled hair falls down your shoulders in an endless auburn cascade. The warmth of your body pierces my skin and becomes mine. You are so beautiful I cannot describe you. Yours surpasses simple enumerations. To stop at the sparkle in your eyes or the shine in your abundant hair would be a superficial and stupid simplicity. You are more for what you carry inside than for what you show on the outside. The thought that you might hurt yourself gets on my nerves. I hold you tightly. Your hands clasp behind my neck. Careful little one, I'm a marble that every morning becomes more moldable in your hands.
Don't worry. I'm not going to drop you.
I clasp my hands under your knees. Your lips stretch towards me. I freeze at the majestic fleshiness of your lips. Do you want to kiss me? Fingers gently squeeze your thighs. Your mouth is still expectant. Of course I want to kiss you. I'm dying to. I mustn't. Not under these conditions. No... yes, damn it, yes.
Do you turn your face? What the... Your peach skin dodges me toward my chin. You pause for a deliciously endless second. You turn away again to admire me in the haze of your dream. Your head rests on my shoulder. You have fallen asleep. The moisture of your lips lingers on the underside of my cheek. It is warm, warm. Adorable. Just like you.
I walk smiling. Your one-second kiss was better than hours of exciting sex. I feel as dizzy as you do. The comfort of your room demands that I leave you. I hold you a while longer. I can't let go. I don't want to let go. You smell of life, color and a few drops of I need you. The perfume I've been looking for for years. You move restlessly. Your breathing is heavy. The alcohol has knocked you out of consciousness. How would I react if you saw me melting like a chocolate in summer? I lay you on your bed. You look so lonely I wish I could lie beside you and lose us in desire. You sigh. You shrink your body. You are cold. I cover you with a blanket. Good night my little one... I say goodnight with a light caress on your hair. Having you asleep allows me to enjoy certain freedoms. Would you like to give them to me? I would be delighted to receive them.
-Rest Love.
-Ruben?
-I beg your pardon?
-Ruben...
-Are you all right?
-Ruben.
-Who is Ruben? -The question stabs me in the stomach.
I allow you to cling to me again. I must not. It is not right. Don't bring your lips near mine or I won't be able to... You open your mouth. You wait anxiously for me. Damn it. Who's Ruben? You're drunk. It's not me you're... You cover my lips. Your tongue tastes of you tangles with mine. I reach out to let you take me in full. Your eager hands cling to my shoulders. I bend down, clinging to your chest. The warmth of your breasts pierces my clothes. I am dizzy. I close my eyes, letting myself go. This is pure, thick honey that traps me in its sweetness.
-You are beautiful...
My hand moves to your neck. I don't plan to go any further. I just want to caress your skin. To feel the tremor I cause in the vein that runs up your chin -Love... I've found you.
-Ruben...
I close my eyes. Rage mixes with a prick in my liver.
-Who the hell is Rafa?! -That damn name keeps me away from your body wanting to cut it into little pieces. I've never seen him around here.
-And I have never seen you.
A lady no more than five feet tall points a wooden cane in my face. She tries to look scary. She doesn't succeed.
-Neither do I. How did you get in?
-I am his grandmother. And you?
-If you don't tell me who you are, but the truth, you're going to have serious problems.
I cross my arms. I uncross them just as quickly. The poor lady is holding on to the door frame of the room, trembling. I have succeeded in scaring her.
I'm her almost-grandmother. Then you must be her roommate. She told me about you.
-Yes, I'm . And you must be Elvira. The one from this afternoon's call to the program.
-The same. He replied with a smile from ear to ear and without the slightest remorse. Blessed octogenarian innocence.
I extend my hand in peace. The lady, who is as old as she is experienced, relaxes. But not enough to distance herself from her lethal weapon, the cane.
-I brought hot chocolate and torrijas. She loves them. She seemed so angry...
-A nice gesture.
-Are you two dating?
-I..." The lady lowers her cane and wrinkles her nose. She has seen me kiss her.
-Just kidding. I'm old but not old-fashioned. A little glass of hot chocolate?
-Isn't it too late?
-No way. I can't sleep in this cold. We've been having the time of our lives. Suddenly hot, suddenly cold. I've never seen anything like it. And I'm older than Jesus Christ's donkey.
I rest my left leg on my right, trying to find a foothold for my boredom. If only I could get some air I would make up an excuse to run away to my room.
-I imagine.
-You can't imagine... -And here it continues.
-Are you sure you don't want chocolate? These days you have to eat and rest. You young people have so many activities that...
-And that's why I have to go to sleep. I speak quickly, taking advantage of one of her intakes of air to breathe. Besides, I don't want to wake her up," I say, pointing to Sofia, who is still in her bed, totally passed out.
-Of course. You know how we old ladies are. We love to talk about nonsense.
-Not at all. Shall I walk you home?
-Oh, what a nice boy. No, thank you. I live on the second floor.
-Then I'm going to my room.
-I like you. Much better than Rubén.
I stop at the site.
-Ruben? His... ex?
-Have they left him? Don't give me that joy.
The answer is a ball in my court. She didn't say she had a boyfriend. That asshole never came to the house. Why does he have her abandoned? Why the hell is he in her life!
-My poor child. Thank you for bringing her home safe and sound. She was right about you being as handsome on the inside as you are on the outside.
-Don't lie, Elvira. I scratch my chin in disbelief.
-The inner beauty part belongs to me," she says naughtily, "But she did say that you are much more handsome than the one with the tattoos.
-He said, more than him?
-Or yes. And she's crazy about that bad bug. A few months ago, oh, don't mind me. I don't want to entertain you with my old gossipy stories. You're tired.
Do you have a crush on him? A few months? How many? Twelve? One?
-So you say that chocolate of yours is good?
-And with a piece of torrija even better.
He smiles at me. I smile back. Our silences are too explicit. I predict that Elvira and I will be best friends next. Very very soon.