Home > Love, in Spanish (Love, in English #2)(9)

Love, in Spanish (Love, in English #2)(9)
Author: Karina Halle

“But it’s true,” she says between puffs. “Isn’t it?”

I sigh and run my hand over my face. “Vera is notready for that.”

“How do you know, have you asked her?”

“She is too young.”

“She is my age, more or less, and yet you justbrought up the same question to me. How come it issomething conceivable with me but not for her?”

“Because,” I say slowly, “I don’t wish to get myhopes up.”

She leans against the railing, watching me for a beatthat ticks on too long. I can feel all the conclusions she’sdrawing. “But your hopes are up, aren’t they? Look, Ilove Vera. I wish I knew her better, that we’d see eachother more often, but my dear brother is so selfish withher time. So I don’t know her like I should. But I don’tthink she’s going to run away from you in fear, Mateo.She’s a foreigner in this country, facing an uncertainfuture, barely speaking the language. She’s doing this allfor you. Maybe you should have more faith.”

I give her a look. “So is that why you brought meout here?”

She shrugs with one shoulder and blows out a cloudof smoke that hangs in the heavy air. “I was just curious.I thought, if you do, maybe I could help you pick out thering. Be involved in some way.”

Now this surprises me. Lucia and I are close, butbecause of our age difference, we’ve never been thatclose. “I see. I’m back with Atlético and now you wantto be friends with your big shot brother.”

She smiles at me. “So you are taking the job?”

I exhale slowly through my nose, but the doubt Ifelt from earlier, the doubt that holds back my words, isgone. “I don’t know. But I think so. I will tell them onFriday though, just to be sure.”

“Why wouldn’t you take it?” she asks.

“I don’t know. It could change everything, couldn’tit? I would be back in the public eye again. They seemedto like harassing us an awful lot when I was no longerpart of the team. How are they going to like me whenI’m the coach?”

She bites her lip and gives me a sympathetic look.“You are right,” she says, tapping her cigarette so the ashfalls to the floor. She brushes it off the edge of thebalcony with her foot to avoid Carmen having a heartattack. “But I think that’s a small price to pay for doingwhat you love, no?”

I can only hope that the price stays small.

Chapter Three

When Thursday afternoon rolls around, I’m feeling onehundred percent more positive about my choice to joinAtlético. Perhaps there was never anything negativeabout the opportunity to begin with, but I feel like I’vebeen approaching life with a grain of salt lately. Whenyou’ve found something precious and you’ve beenthrough a lot to get it, it’s hard not to eye things with anair of suspicion.

I am in the bedroom, slipping on a light blue silkPrada shirt when I hear Vera come inside the apartment.There is the sound of the lock rattling, the door closing,her shoes being kicked off, keys being placed on thetable. It’s a series of sounds that makes me feel safe.

Today, though, as I am getting dressed for mydinner later with Bon, a good friend I haven’t seen inover a year, there is something different about Vera’sentrance. There is a heaviness to the sounds, and whenher shoe thumps on the floor, it lands hard.

“Vera?” I ask, tucking my shirt tails into my pantsand coming out of the bedroom and down the hall. I stopby the entrance to the kitchen and living room. She issitting on the arm of the couch, her head down, withpeachy hair falling across her face, her hands in her lap.She looks defeated. For a moment I wonder if it’s theheat that’s dragging her down. Even with airconditioning, the place is muggy.

I gently place a hand on her shoulder. “Vera?”

She slowly looks up at me. She hasn’t been crying—her eyes are dry—but her face looks extra pale and allthe lipstick on her mouth has been bitten off.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as I crouch down beside her,hands on her arm and thigh.

She sighs and her nose scrunches up slightly inembarrassment. “I think I’m getting fired.”

“What?” I ask, obviously shocked. “Why? How?What happened?”

“I don’t know,” she says tiredly. “My boss, Patrice,pulled me in today and told me that my work visa forthem will be up in September. She said she is unsureright now if they are going to apply for another one.There is another person who started last week, Amy,she’s from Ireland and she speaks fluent Spanish. Sheonly works once a week, but I think they are groomingher to take my place.”

“That is ridiculous,” I say, a path of warm ragemaking its way up my throat and clouding my words.“Why would they do that? You’re perfect for thecompany. You make people feel welcome. I’ve seen youthere, I know this. Your Spanish is coming along justfine too—they must see your improvements compared towhen you started.”

She shrugs like she’s given up all hope. “I guessnot. Patrice said something about the time it takes for thevisa to go through—remember it took like a month ortwo last time—and that they are used to hiring peoplefrom the EU. Less paperwork.”

I am beside myself. I straighten up and fold myarms, looking around the room as if it will give meanswers. “Well, they cannot leave you hanging like this.Have you been officially let go?”

“No,” she says. “Patrice said she’d let me know in afew weeks. I guess they are going to look into it a littlebit more. I knew I should have been suspicious when thepermit was only for six months to begin with. I don’tknow if they ever wanted me on more than a trial basis.”

“But, Vera, you’ve been with them for almost ayear now, it’s just that some of that was under the table.They can’t afford to, what would you say…yank yourchain?”

“That or dick you around.”

“They can’t yank your dick or anything like that,” Itell her, and start striding toward the door.

“Where are you going?” she quickly cries out,getting to her feet.

I grab my phone from the bowl on the counter andglance at it quickly before putting it in my pocket. “I’mgoing to go talk to Patrice.”

“No, Mateo,” she says, her bare feet scuffling overto me. She grabs hold of my arm and stares at me withpleading eyes. “Please don’t. This isn’t your problem.”

   
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