CHAPTER 14

My mother at work, my father out with the car and Bobby over at a friend's house left me all alone in the house.

It was raining heavily outside but I had the biggest need to get out of the house, which six months ago, would have been so unlike me, but at that moment in time, being inside was suffocating.

Within minutes I got myself ready and called for a taxi.

Fifteen minutes later I found myself infront of the tapas restaurant Angelo had taken me to after our first break-up make up. Damn, that had been nearly two years ago.

Once I entered it was like I'd stepped back into Spain.

The borderline-tacky decorations gave it the Christmas “oomph” but Spanish music still played and so my mood was resolutely made better for it.

A waitress approached me and sat me down in the further end of the restaurant where it was quieter.

I already knew what I was going to order so I told the waitress before she left.

Okay I admit looking at all the couples huddled close together in intimate conversations made me jealous. I needed someone to talk to so I picked up my phone to Skype Gabino.

My default choice would have been Angelo. He was always so reassuring. His voice always soothing. And I missed that.

Only he really knew how to calm me down in my worst days.

But me going to Spain changed everything. Even my family felt somewhat distant to me.

Like there were so many things I couldn't relate to them because they just wouldn't get it. And my brother who was a major part of the reason why I wanted to come home for Christmas made me feel almost as if I was just a tenant in the house that he had to unfortunately oblige.

Six months changed things real quick.

I didn't feel at home in my home.

And my parents weren't helping matters at all. My plane had barely touched ground and they'd already pestered me over and over again on what I was going to do next.

So yes I wanted to unload on someone but me still pretty much jet-lagged and having forgotten the eight-hour time difference I got pissed off that Gabino did not pick up.

And it must have been a shortwhile that I sat idly preoccupied with my own thoughts and people-watching because the next thing I know my food was being brought out – by him.

My heart stalled.

By him I meant the coon who took away the last bit of self esteem I had and that I've spent the last nearly seven years trying to build back up.

The time it took for him to walk all the way to me couldn't have been more than ten seconds or five lifetimes – I couldn't tell.

My hands went all clammy. And I could feel my eyes tearing up, at that moment I really had to go to Therapy 101 and get into my happy thoughts but my cognitive wasn't responding and instead it brought up all the bad memories conjured up by that coon.

When the coon placed my plate of prawn and chicken paella infront of me my facial expression was as impenetrable as pearls.

He barely even glanced at me.

Well thanks to you, I wanted to say, I've completely lost my appetite.

But my mother raised me better than that and I was not about to waste ten dollars worth of food, especially over a coon.

So I had no choice but to force myself to eat it.

He'd shown no evidence of having recognized me.

You're ugly and fat – double whammy – you should be happy that a guy even wants to touch you.

Words I remember saying to myself as I winced in pain at what he was doing to me.

I became increasingly angry and pissed as I watched him attend to another customer. He'd walked away like he didn't know me – I was just an invisible – like I'd always been.

With all these thoughts raging through my mind I chomped on my food, the very taste of it making me sick to my stomach.

There was no way I was going to have the red velvet cake dessert I'd planned on having.

Even now the thought of Angelo insanely pissed me off. The last thing he'd said to me was that we'd talk once I got back to the U.S.

I was angry at how things had gotten because to be honest if it wasn't because of the situation with Angelo, I probably would have remained in Madrid. But I just had to trust that the Lord knew what He was doing.

I finish my food and a wild guess at what was coming towards me to clear my table?Yes, the coon.

Without a word or glance at me he bent over forward grabbed my plate and started moving away to the direction of the kitchen.

Ah, he was about to experience the wrath of a scorned woman.

“Liam!”

At the mention of his name, he was forced to turn around.

He turned around and raised one eyebrow at me still not saying anything.

“Aren't you forgetting something?”

“Like what?”

“Well for one you seemed to have forgotten my name and secondly an apology.”

“Your name. An apology,” he repeated back at me as if he was reading a shopping list, “ I don't even know you.”

Yet the tick in his jaw said a different story.

Oh my ratchet thermometer turned real hot at that moment.

“You don't rememeber us seven years ago? You don't remember what we used to do? You don't remember us texting all night only for you to ignore me when we saw each other in the morning at school?”

By this time I was receiving attention. Curious ears and eyes nearby were concluding their conversation to listen in on the situation that was developing.

And Liam's face, who was still holding onto my plate, was red as the cherry he tried to take from me. “Luciana get out, you're causing a scene.”

Well I could care less, this shit might as well have been a telenovela.

“Oh so now you remember my name. But about two minutes ago you were not man enough to look me in my fucking eyeballs.”

“I'm not dealing with this shit.”

In my heated angry trance, I'd noticed that in true typical, millenial living fashion certain individuals had their smart phones raised recording the whole thing.

I didn't even realise how quiet the restaurant had become, I could even hear my palpitating heart.

His non-responsivesness was pissing me off and when he started to squeeze his way out between tables it only infuriated me further.

“Ooh make way for the fuckboy, fuckboy coming through.”

I fought hard to not let the tears fall. At the thought that I was so giving to a stupid fucking boy who could never appreciate my worth or respect me, even if I sold my soul to him, yet like a girl hypnotised I had let him play me until it was game over for my self-esteem. Because for a while he made me feel like I was a girl that a guy could be attracted to.

“Yes go on with your stupid coon ass self Liam.”

All of a sudden he turned around and for a second I thought he was going to hit me, but instead he opened his mouth.

“You're such a bitch. How dare you come to my place of work making a fool of yourself and embarrassing me like this.”

“I'm embarassing you fuck boy? I'm embarassing you?! You basically forced me to suck your dick. When I told you two fingers hurt, you put in three fingers. Three fingers! And you watched me cry and said me crying turned you on, until you jacked off and left me on the bed bleeding.

It made me feel like shit, so worthless, a belief I've carried on me for the last seven fucking years of my life. A belief I allowed to destroy my relationship with the only guy worth counting in my life who knew how to appreciate me as a woman. A belief that has meant all odds at me reconciling with that guy are slim to none because I ended up cheating on him.

And you want to talk about embarassing you? Go fuck yourself Liam.”

The whole restaurant was in stunned silence. “Y'know what, we should do a toast.”

And without permission I grabbed a champagne flute from the table nearby and raised it up to the attention of everyone.

“Everybody raise your glasses in honour of Liam's parents for raising such a solid man. To the realest fuckboy.”

And with that I proceeded to pour the contents of the glass on the coon's face.

Like a play, on cue everyone gasped and hollered. I didn't even feel a shred of fear as he came forward and his fists headed straight for me but was quickly averted by one of his colleagues.

“Let me go. I'm not dealing with this shit,” he repeated to his colleague as he loosened his grip, giving me a dirty look as he untied his apron and dumped it on the table.

“Everybody say goodnight to the realest fuck boy you'll ever meet in your life.”

For a moment we all watched in silence as he strutted away, his body hunched trying to retain his shamed pride, as he continued down the busy street.

“Okay you've done enough damage for the day.”

It didn't occur to me until my body was being guided in the forward direction that I was being escorted out by security.

My adrenaline was running over speed limits.

I wasn't thinking clearly. I couldn't have been thinking clearly.

The restaurant manager wasn't even worried that I hadn't even paid the bill. He just wanted me out of his establishment.

Which I totally understand why.

At a glance at people's faces in the restaurant – a few off them had piteous looks at me, but the rest looked at me as if I was the Hulk and they stayed wary as I walked past their tables.

Because apparently I was just an (heartbroken) angry, black, mad, woman, especially as I needed two security guards to handle little ol' me.

But I didn't have it in me to care. And as the cold wind caressed my pores, I couldn't help but feel as light as the air I breathed.

Because after ten years, my heart was truly healing.