Since ever
-Up Cinderella.
I hear his voice in the distance. These awakenings are like a fairy tale. I hug him and sigh. The warmth of the sheets covers us.
-Let go of that pillow and wake up.
Pillow? Pillows don't make love. I open one eye very reluctantly. Sleep does not allow me to see well. The second eyelid rises more reluctantly than the previous one. Confirmed, I'm hugging a pillow.
-Blake? -I move my head to stare at the ceiling.
-Love, we're running late.
Did I mention how much I love that nickname? It makes me feel like a platinum box chocolate bonbon. Diminutives are short forms that shorten a formality. For example, Sofi you didn't buy, Sofi you must go, Sofi don't exhaust me... and so on until the list becomes endless. A nickname, however, is the king of names. In it are enclosed the time and thoughts of the creator. Reason and feelings demonstrating their perfect conjunction. Blake called me Love because he first felt it, then thought it and finally christened me. Isn't that a beautiful thing? Not all nicknames are good. There are the vulgar, the ordinary and the plaintive. Mine belongs to the romantic, sweet and madly in love. Aying... I love it.
-Up lazy.
You remove my blanket and my thoughts of love freeze before the morning cold. Oh, blooming and crazy spring that loads your fervent afternoons with warmth while in your mornings you freeze us to the bone.
-Late for what? I'm sleepy. Why do you always wake up before me?
-Because you're a sleepyhead.
He seeks to lift me by the shoulders. Naive. I am number one in matters of tugging.
-We won't make it in time. Don't tempt me," he says, resisting my attempts to lay him on the mattress.
-Am I no longer your Love?
-You have always been my Love.
I love this nonsense. Blake is my favorite romance writer. To be next to him is to feel that loneliness is a temporary momentary state and overcome.
-I love it when you say that.
-What? -Love?
-No. I mean yes. A no that means yes.
-I'm getting lost.
-I mean I really like it when you say forever. Sometimes it seems that way to me, too. There are things that seem so.
-What do you mean?
-Nonsense.
-I want to know about this nonsense.
His face has changed. He looks serious. I hasten to explain. My mental ramblings don't need deep analysis. Especially if it puts our relationship at stake.
-When you call me that, it feels like I've heard it before. Like an unfamiliar yet familiar voice introduces itself to me. I told you it was nonsense. I've never traveled abroad and in Madrid nobody would call me that. Don't listen to me.
-You never traveled with your grandmother either?
-Outside Spain? Oh no, Grandma To?i was terrified of flying. She never got beyond Benidorm.
-Sometimes situations call for it. Blake reflects and makes me laugh. He didn't know my grandmother To?i.
-I can't imagine a situation serious enough for my grandmother to get on a plane.
Blake moves away from the bed. He's not happy with my answer. He should have met my grandmother. Living on the fourth floor was a feat for her vertigo.
-It's getting late.
I look at my cell phone with a furrowed brow.
-It is seven o'clock in the morning.
-Just enough time for you to shower and we won't be late.
-Late?
I answer, stretching my arms towards my feet as I cover myself with the sheet. Showing me naked in the middle of dawn is something I can't quite get used to. He laughs as he holds out the T-shirt I lost somewhere between the desk and the bed last night.
-I've seen you naked. Last night it was exactly three passionate times.
-That was in the dark. My self-esteem is not so muscular.
-We'll have to work on it," she says, pressing her lips to my neck and pulling the sheet back.
-You haven't answered me," I say, pushing him aside and quickly sticking my head through the neckline of my shirt. Where are we late?
I stand up and Blake drags me toward the bathroom.
-To class.
-To class?
He slapped my ass and repeated before closing the door.
-To class, Miss.
-If I say no, it's no.
-You see, we have asked for permission from the city council.
-I don't care if the president of the government authorizes it. This is my school and it doesn't go beyond the door.
-I think you misunderstood. I'm talking about the mayor.
-Peter the drunkard? You lost asshole. If anyone had their fingers on straight, they'd be behind bars. What a long-fingered prick.
-Then what do I have to do to get in? -I'm exhausted from all the talking and begging.
-A permission from the director. It's no big deal.
The concierge leans back in her chair, twirling her pen between her fingers like a Wild West sheriff.
-I've been trying to talk to her for half an hour.
-He can't.
-Why not?
-You do not have a permit.
-And how am I supposed to get it if I can't get in?
Write an e-mail.
-May I have your address?
-I can't.
-And why can't he?
-I am not authorized.
Blake holds me down by the men to make room for himself or for me not to reach for a match and set the school on fire, starting with his janitor as first in line for smoked steaks.
-Vera... Rosa?
The plump woman straightens up so Blake can better read her little gold tin medallion.
-It is important that Beatriz receives us.
-Do you know Beatriz?
Blake cranes his neck proudly. Saying the director's name turned out to be a masterful move.
-My sister studies here. My name is...
-Ask for a tutorial.
-I tried, but I couldn't reach her. It's very urgent that we meet. It's for a radio program. Publicity is of vital importance to the school. You know, the public school is gaining ground and private school funding is dwindling.
-Filthy republican reds.
-Without funding, there will be no such salary increases.
-Increases?
-Beatriz, the director, told me that the hired personnel would be at the top of the list for salary improvements. Rosa, do you have a permanent position?
-Twenty years ago.
-I'm sure she will be the first to collect the raise.
-And you say Beatriz knows him?
-Of course.
Rosa stretches her back so much that her tits the size of several carts reach her waist.
-You may go through. Follow that corridor to the second floor. At the end, you will find the management office. Do not stop along the way.
-We would never think of doing it. Thank you Rosa.
The two of us walk with an accelerated pace. We haven't finished crossing the sacred portal when Rosa shrieks at us with that coldness that would kill delicate zombies.
-Hey, you! Where's the recording equipment?
Blake quickly reaches into his pocket to pull out his cell phone.
State-of-the-art technology. We don't need more.
-Of course, of course.
Rosa turned around forgetting about the toilet paper delivery man who at that moment was trying to get away with the cart.
-Authorization or no entry!
-Rosa, let's not start, either I go in or they shit themselves. You will see.
That was the last thing I heard before turning left down the hallway.
-It was from the right.
Blake tugs on my arm and sends me flying in a perfect twist. He opens the elevator doors and we step inside. It's not until they are fully closed that I lean back and snort in relief.
-We're in." Blake is no longer relaxed. You are a liar.
He turns so pale that he forces me to clarify my joke.
-You have conquered her. I think Rosa will ask for your phone number.
-Jealous?
-A little bit.
-You don't have to, I'm all yours," he says, kissing the tip of my nose. Now let's go get that girl you're so interested in.
The doors open before I can thank you for being by my side. This morning when I woke up I never thought he would bring me here. Have I said I am in love from my toes to my eyebrows? I think so. And have I acknowledged that I love him so much I'm in a panic? Maybe not that.