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CHAPTER 8

What I've been trying to avoid has become the unavoidable: Sara was offering me a recurring role in her telenovela.

I told her I needed time to think about it, but there was nothing to think about – I didn't want it. The only thing to think about was how I was going to strategically turn down Sara.

It was giving me major anxiety just thinking about how it was going to go, especially because she had called me the day before, in true Sara-style, brimming with child-like excitement.

I just didn't understand what the woman saw in me.

I couldn't even talk to Angelo about it because from the moment he landed back on US soil, a month and a half ago, he was touch and go. Trying to get through to him was like trying to get through to the President.

Sleep-deprivation was something that became the norm for me because I'd have to set my alarm at two or three in the morning (because of the time difference), as that was the only time he had time for me.

The conversation would end up with me feeling guilty seeing his tired face that was always edging on crashing. We hardly even prayed together anymore.

One night out of frustration, instead of waking up at a God-forsaken hour to log on Skype and see him yawning in my face every five seconds like I was boring him or something, I had sent him an essay-length text message. I'd told him how unimpressed I was with the current state of our relationship, and insisted on us having at least one hour of uninterrupted conversation every Saturday evening.

The only thing that abated my anger was the reminder that he had been the one to take an eight-hour journey to come and see me twice in the space of two months.

Everything had been going fine up until the last two weeks when he gave one excuse or another that had to do with him studying for upcoming tests. Apparently Angelo thinks that spending one hour with his fiancee instead of studying would be detrimental to his exam results.

What a farce.

For three days, I hadn't spoken to him, not even to reply to his 'good morning' texts. Even though I wasn't happy with him, I still expected him to send me them because I'd become so used to them over the last year that if he stopped sending them that would mean our relationship was in a real state of emergency.

He knew I was pissed off, and as I should be. I'd been understanding enough as a partner. And our conversation six weeks before in that shisha place, rung louder in my head plus the things that Dominica had said to me. Angelo's actions in the last few weeks didn't help temper down my doubts.

He'd sent me a message two days before saying that he was working hard now so our children won't have to.

Boy please, sit down. Angelo could live pretty comfortably off his parents' wealth if he wanted to.

Though he was met with no reply, I did think he'd made a pretty convincing case for himself. My heart warmed and my womb tingled at the thought of carrying Dr. Henriquez's bebes.

Nevertheless, I needed him to realise that we couldn't carry on this path of awkward and irregular communication if we are to be married.

Sighing softly, I locked the front door having spent the morning dropping the kids to school, practising my Spanish for a bit whilst the cleaning lady did her chores, and now that I'd seen her off, I was making my way over to meet up with Gabino.

He was the only one I felt like I could talk to. Dominica was too blunt for me, I needed someone like him who would soften the blow.

The last time I'd seen Gabino was just before my birthday and that was over a month ago, due to his very busy work schedule, we'd only been able to keep in contact via phone call and texting.

Thoughts of the incident that happened last time when I went out with Gabino crept into my mind, but I brushed it away knowing I'd be better at handling it if it were to happen again.

We decided to meet at a cafe in downtown Madrid. I was glad I could now walk without my sciatics playing up. Weirdly, ever since that day Angelo had massaged my back, the pain had remarkably reduced.

Not that I would tell him (that would be a possibility if we were talking) or he would ask being that he had such a busy schedule to remember such trivial matters as his girlfriend suffering from nerve pains.

Not wanting to be riled up again with thoughts of my boyfriend who I sorely missed but was pissing the life out of me, I looked up to the sky thankful for the mid-October sun.

I was the first one to arrive so after taking my seat near the window I ordered myself a strawberry milshake and blueberry muffin. Because I was such a dipper, I ended up taking a chunk out of the muffin and dabbing it lightly on the surface of my fruity milkshake, and just when I was about to dunk it into my crater-sized mouth, I heard Gabino's voice.

“Mi Dios, what you doing, man? That's disgusting.”

I clearly must have been too caught up in my gustatory experiment to have noticed him walk in to the cafe.

Smiling guiltily at him before quickly putting it into my mouth I watched his face screw up in disgust again. If he hadn't been there I would have closed my eyes in pleasure at the berry taste combination.

“Honestly, you should try it, es buon.”

“No gracias, I'm fine,” he said irking away holding his hands up to decline, as he sat on the seat opposite me.

He had a fresh shave round the sides of his top knot and damn was the hombre looking good. He was wearing a mud green bomber jacket despite the warm temperature outside. In any case, it suited his lanky frame.

From where I sat, I could smell his aftershave and I knew this was to cover up the stench that unfortunately I could still smell, albeit, to a lower degree.

“Wait, I get no hugs?” I said playfully outstretching my arms in question.

“I don't want you to smell me,” he said as his cheeks reddened in embarassment.

Ignoring what he said I rose up from my seat and before he'd caught on to what my intentions were I'd already wrapped as much as I could of him in a big bear hug.

I'd come to accept that part of him as a friend. Though I did think about asking him if he could seek medical help, but I was worried that would just make him more self-conscious than he already was.

Finally obliging, he put his arms around my waist a little awkwardly as he was still sitting down. He gave nice hugs. And upon these thoughts, came thoughts that should never have entered my mental space. Thoughts of how I missed being so close to a full-blooded man.

I just wanted closeness, comfort, affection yet all I'd been getting from Angelo lately was distance, unavailability and excuses.

In some ways, I blame Angelo – actually in all ways I blame Angelo.

Growing up, my dad was always the one smothering me with goodnight kisses and attack me in bear-hugs, whereas my mum was the complete opposite. I could probably count the number of times my mum had hugged me in the last ten years.

So when Angelo finally came into my life, and Angelo was totally a touchy-feely guy, it took some time before I came out of my shell to feel comfortable to initiate kisses, or hold his hands in public, or feel so comfortable to be vulnerable to text him messages to say I missed him.

“Luciana, are you sitting down?” I heard Gabino ask breaking into my thoughts.

The thought of Angelo seeing me hug a guy this long was enough for the guilty feelings to creep into my conscious so after releasing my grasp around Gabino, I walked back to my seat.

“Only because you asked nicely,” I said sticking my tongue out at him but I only received a confused expression from Gabino, clearly not getting the humour.

Ah, the langauge barrier – Lord have mercy!

And because of his cute expression, I laughed again as I slurped on my milkshake, before changing topic.

“So, how's work?”

At my question the thought did occur to me how his colleagues or even previous colleagues had managed to cope with the smell. But I thought it safe not to speak anything on that matter.

“Ah, you know, work is work,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders not really divulging much.

Several attempts at trying to meet up with Gabino were thwarted after the day that I had dropped off Manuelo at their house.

I had called verbally upset over the phone that Manuelo had to withstand the biting cold temperatures, attend a football match with none of his family members supporting him, make his way home alone with no sensible jacket to shield him from the rain and if I had not been there the boy would surely have gone hungry – which was totally unacceptable.

Midway shouting down the phone at Gabino, he had hung up the phone on me – the audacity! Boiling with anger, I had called again but he refused to pick up the phone.

I don't know, I guess my anger stemmed from me thinking of Bobby and how I would do anything to make sure my brother was comfortable at all times.

Another thing that pissed me off is the fact that when Manuelo and Gabino's mother finally came (two hours later), she didn't utter anything that was even close to ''thank you”. If anything she gave me a mistrustful look, before pushing her son in through the door.

She had a skinny frame, shoulder length dark blonde curly hair, and a face that had passed its youthful age - their mother just looked tired.

It sort of reminded me of my mother back when my dad was still in prison - always tired, always working, always grumpy.

The next day, after I'd calmed down I texted Gabino and he'd said he had seized up at having me shouting at him and he didn't know how to handle it. And for the next couple of days he could not handle talking to me on the phone.

Curious as to his seemingly enigmatic behaviour, I did my little reasearch to the condition he'd told me he had and realised it was part of the traits of someone with Aspergers to be easily emotionally overwhelmed.

Knowing this but knowing that I had to address the issue, I braced myself for the worst. “I texted you a few days before the match and you could have told me that you were working so I could have picked Manuelo up and dropped him off home.”

“I am sorry I didn't reply, I forgot. I have job to make violins now. On weekends I have job at a cafeteria. It's exhausting man.”

Just hearing him say that, exhausted me, and it was then that I could see the dark moon under his eyes.

“So why don't you make Manuelo a key so he doesn't have to be waiting outside? The kids he was hanging out with were drinking beer.”

I could tell that it disturbed Gabino a great lot at the worrying circumstances his brother could be caught up in and it was the perfect reaction that I was hoping for – I needed it to be a wake-up call.

“Okay, okay, I understand, I do key for Manuelo.”

I don't know why he and his mother had not thought of it earlier but I didn't say anything further as I could sense he was becoming a little agitated with my reprimand. The most important thing was that I'd gotten the results that I wanted.

There was momentary silence between us before he rose up from his seat saying he was going to order something to drink. Nodding my head in acknowledgement I watched him go, as I chewed on what was left of my muffin.

He returned back few moments later with a large cup of strong-smelling coffee. Urgh. “What do people see in that thing?”

“Caffeine?” he said chuckling at my facial expression as he took a short sip.

“You're going work later?”

“No, but I feel a little tired,” he said stretching his neck side to side.

Truly seeing how visibly tired he was, I couldn't help but feel deep compassion for him. During those times when not having enough money was the norm for me, I would have been more than keen to support my mother just like Gabino was doing, if not because I had to look after Bobby. Despite whatever feelings I may have for my mother concerning how she treated me when my father was away, I couldn't fault her for how hard she worked to ensure me and my brother's basic needs were met.

“Do you have work tomorrow?”

“No, but I am going somewhere.”

His lack of details of where he was going wasn't helping the curious cat in me, the expression on his face and how he'd said it just sounded real cryptic to me.

“Where?” I knew I was pushing it but it didn't hurt to try.

“I go church to see my priest, you say?” He asked and with a nod of myhead he continued, “I'm thinking about being a – I don't know how you say in English, a monje.”

After doing a quick translation search on my phone, I realised it meant monk.

To say that I was shocked, would be one of the biggest understatements of life. My first thought was (when not considering the body odour) how could such a fine guy such as Gabino cope with chastity? He would just burn himself up.

As hard as I tried to mask my surprise, I just couldn't. More proof of my incompetence as an actress.

“And why are you considering this option?”

Leaning back in his chair, an amused smile on his lips, he answered back coolly. “Have you seen the world? There is nothing in it.”

The conversation had taken a swim into the deep side real quick. Even though I'd always sensed that he was a reserved, introspective guy, I never witnessed the depths of it.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Everything is about pleasure in the temporary. People think to grow up and change the world or think that one day everyone will unite and there will be a happily ever after – there is no happily ever after until Paraíso – we live in a war zone – it's the natural order of things.”

His voice had gotten louder as he talked and though his words had given me food for thought I observed quietly as he bounced his leg up and down and punched his thighs several times, he didn't even seem aware of his actions.

“Remember I tell you before I was working in Ibiza this summer?”

“Ooh that must have been fun and yes I do.”

“Wait, listen.”

“Okay,” I said slowly, a bit thrown off by his sharp command but not letting it get to me, knowing this was just how he was.

“There were some British girls who came over to bar and ask me to give them free drinks and I say no. Not too long after, some guys come over to bar– they were about five. Y'know what happened? They said to the girls that if they suck their penis each of them would get two free drinks from each guy. I didn't know when, but they went to the toilet, and started engaging in those acts and they didn't care that people were recording them on their phones doing it.”

I was beyond speechless - it was just crazy to me that a girl would debase herself like that..

“Did they get the free drinks?”

Gabino looked shocked that I'd emphasised the point that was besides the point he was making. “Yes they did.”

If I ever was out of my mind to do something like that and word flew to my mother, I just know to never set foot in my mother's house again or I would not come back out alive.

“Was that one of the reasons that made you decide to be a monk?”

Si pero no, it's something I've been thinking about for a long time. If not that, I like making violins, it's relaxing and it'd good for someone like me.”

I thought that should be the likely option but I respected his choices, and I admired his sage soul so when he changed the topic asking me what I was up to with my life, I was bursting at the seams to tell him.

“Oh my gosh Gabe I thought you'd never ask,” and with a dramatic flop on the chair (or was I an au naturel actress?!) I said, “I've been offered a lead role on a telenovela and I don't know how to tell my boyfriend's mother, who is basically heading the whole thing that I don't want the part.”

Instead of excited bulging eyes and disbelief that I had been given such a seemingly incredible opportunity and I was looking for ways to turn it down, he nodded his head gently and the blunt stare identical to his brother made me a little uncomfy.

“Why do you want to turn it down?”

“Because I don't see myself as an actress. I've never thought of being one. I don't want people looking at me. I just don't want to do it.”

“Okay what's the telenovela about?”

“It's centred on the history of The Moors and their impact in Spanish civilization but it's basically about a married king or something falling in love with one of his concubines...that's where I come in.”

“The Moors?” the way he'd asked I know I'd really perked his interest.

“Yeah, you know about them?”

“Of course.”

“So what if you haven't ever thought of being an actress, life is about experimenting.”

I remembered back at the studio and how awkward and inferior I'd felt because I knew I didn't have the necessary skills but was riding on the luck of knowing the boss.

“And moreover, the Moors history in Spain and in Europe is so important and undermined. Wouldn't you like to fill the part that educates?”

“You have a point there mister.”

“Of course I do. Exhala and see what happens.”

And at that moment, my phone started vibrating on the table. It was Sara calling.

“Oh my gosh Gabino my boyfriend's mum is calling me.”

Calma, calma Luciana,” Gabino responded.

I was close to hyperventilating at the fact that this face and body that I was ashamed of for many years was about to be available for scrutiny for anyone who owns a televison in Spain.






Chapter End Notes:

A.N: Hey everyone, my blog post for the month is out now, "When Friends are Bad Company". You can read it here:

http://theefectivetimes.blogspot.co.uk/2016/10/efes-thoughts-in-october.html

Thank you all for your support.







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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.