I bristle, hating this gossip, hating that people knowthings about her from other sources. “She’s twenty-fournow.”
“And you are nearly forty, yes? Quite the agedifference.”
“Are you jealous?”
He shrugs. “Maybe. I’m not a fan of tattoos onwomen, though I’ve seen my share in different parts ofthe world. Tell me, Mateo, are you happy?”
“I’ve never been happier.”
He appraises me carefully before taking another sip.I’m starting to get a bit of a headache. “You seem happy.I must say when I first heard of this, I didn’t think it wastrue. I was going to ring you up but decided it wasprobably something I shouldn’t concern myself with. Ifyou want to go through an early mid-life crisis, it’s notmy business. It happens to every man.”
“It is not a crisis,” I grind out through my teeth.
“I can see that,” he says, “and that’s what I’msurprised about. You’re still with her, yes?”
I can only nod. My heart is beginning to race.
“I must say I am surprised. Usually such a flingdoesn’t last.”
“It was never a fling.”
His mouth quirks up. “Oh, of course. You findsome young pussy on your work excursion, fall into bedwith her, your wife finds out and divorces you, but it wasnever a fling.”
It takes all I have to prevent myself from slammingmy fists on the table. “That’s not how it happened.”
“No?” he asks. “Do tell.”
He’s being an asshole and I can’t figure out why.He always loved to push my buttons and rile me up, butthis time it feels more personal. Maybe because for thefirst time, it is personal.
“I met Vera while I was in the language immersionprogram. I feel in love with her. Nothing happened…”And that isn’t true, something did happen. I slept withher. I committed adultery, something I swore I wouldnever do. But I feel too ashamed to admit this to him, notwhen I feel he will use it against me. “But I did realizethat what I had with Isabel wasn’t right, it wasn’t whatwe wanted, and that the marriage was over. When Verawent back to Vancouver, I ended things.”
“But Vera must have come back before yourdivorce was final.”
I nodded. “Yes. Perhaps I was a bit impatient. But Icouldn’t stand to have her so far away from me.”
“I don’t blame you,” he says. “I’ve seen thepictures. Even the topless ones. I couldn’t leave thosebreasts.”
My eyes narrow into hot slits. “If you say one morething, don’t you fucking think I won’t reach across thistable and strangle you.”
“There’s the old boy,” he says with a laugh. “Hot-headed Mateo. I was wondering when he would comeout.”
“You better watch yourself,” I warn him,unamused. I jab my finger at him. “I take Vera veryseriously. That could be my future wife you’re talkingabout.”
His eyes widen in surprise and then cloud over withsomething akin to pity. “Oh dear. You can’t be serious.”
I wish I never said anything. It was something thathad only been in my head, now it was in Lucia’s, andnow it was in Bon’s.
“Mateo, Mateo, Mateo,” Bon says with a sigh.“Stop holding on to your youth, old boy. This type ofwoman is good for a few rolls in the sack. Maybe many.She looks like she’d fuck you into another decade. It hasdone wonders for you, you look great. But that’s all sheis. That’s all those types of girls are. Now what youshould have done, was have your fun with her, and nevertold Isabel. Now you’ve got a divorce for nothing. Youreally think you can go and marry this Vera? You can’t.Stop fooling yourself. The way you met, you know thatkind of thing can’t last. You should stop lying toyourself and let it be what it is.”
I don’t even know how to respond. All I know isthat he’s wrong. I know he’s wrong. Then why do I feelthat thread of doubt deep inside?
He continues, seemingly tired now. “I know you,Mateo. You always want to do the right thing. So noblesometimes that it’s boring. That’s why this little episodeof yours has me interested, you see. It’s not like you, notthe you that I know. But now, you feel that because youthrew out a perfectly acceptable marriage, you musthang on to this girl, make her, mold her, into somethingthat she isn’t. You need to learn to let go. You can’tmarry a tattooed, twenty-four-year-old Canadian girl. Itwon’t work, and you’ll be trapped in a world ofunhappiness even worse than your first.” He taps hishand on the table. “You need to start thinking less withyour dick and more with your mind. Let her go and findsomeone else your own age, with your own class.”
He gets up and excuses himself to the bathroombefore I can say anything. Bon had once been my friend,but now I am not sure if that’s true. This sounds likemore than just concern. Has he been talking to Isabel? Ishe jealous or just disapproving?
I don’t know. But what I do know is that I don’tneed to listen to it.
I go up to the waitress and slip her a hundred eurosto cover the bill. Then I leave the bar—and Bon—behind.
When I arrive back at the apartment, Vera isn’tback yet. The long walk has done nothing to calm mynerves—in fact the heat seems to have only made itworse—so I pour myself a large glass of scotch that Isave for rare occasions and sit outside on the balcony.There is a slight breeze up here, and the hustle and bustleof the street below distracts me.
Bon is wrong. That’s all there is to it. Though thereis some truth. It’s true that I have always tried to do theright thing—that is probably why I stuck with Isabel forso long—and that I care highly about reputation, whetherit be my family’s or my own.
But things change. Sometimes all it takes for aperson to lose themselves is to find another. Perhaps itwasn’t such a good thing, to always be noble, to haveappearances be the first concern. Maybe it was what Ineeded, to find Vera, to let go of the person I had tried sohard to be, and just finally be myself.
I just wish it wasn’t so hard.
I sit there for a long time, listening to peoplechatting on the street, the roar of cars as they zoom past.When the scotch starts to pull me under into thestickiness of sleep, I get up and head back inside just intime to see Vera stumble through the front door.
She’s drunk, her breasts nearly spilling out of herlow-cut dress, her hair half-up and half-down, wildaround her face.