CHAPTER 3

“How can you tell me you're going to Paris for three months and you don't even know where you're going to stay, what you're going to do, you don't even know anyone there?”

“Me and this girl that I met in our language classes are going to be staying together.”

It was early in the day, but never too early for my mother to piss me off. She'd been gracious enough to squeeze time between her getting ready to go to work to list off as many reasons as to why I shouldn't take the job.

Pepito and Candela's grandparents had picked them up in the morning and they would be with them till the Saturday evening, so that just left me in the house with the cleaner who was currently cleaning the bathrooms whilst I was in Pepito's room, putting my mother on loudspeaker as I made his bed.

“You say you're going to be staying with a girl you met in your language classes. How long have you been there, two months, that's not enough time to know someone. Even then, I don't know her, your father doesn't know her, we don't even know her family.”

It would have been the wrong time to point out that she'd barely known Sara for more than six hours before she was all buddy-buddy with her and taking all of us to her family's Christmas dinner. If I had said that she would have probably told me to shut up and go on a rant about how I thought I was all grown up just because I was in another continent and on and on and on and I was in no mood to deal with an argument.

Mother Carter had calmed down somewhat the last year - or maybe not, she was still very much hot headed with thin patience.

“Mum, this is what I want to do, I've been in America all my life, I ju – I want to

live my life.”

“Oh, you want to live your life? Well what about if something happens to you, whilst you're over there? Then you won't have much of a life to live.”

The only reason why my parents were okay with me coming to Spain was because Angelo's family was here, so in their head it meant that if anything were to happen to me there was always someone local I could get in touch with.

“Mum I just told you I'm going with-”

“Have you looked at the news lately and seen all the crimes going on? I don't have that kind of money to look for a lawyer if you get kidnapped.”

I could only roll my eyes. “Mum, nothing is going to happen to me.”

“Okay well don't say I didn't tell you so. You don't even know anything about where you're working. You don't even know if it's prostitution that they use young girls your age to do and 'teaching English' is what they use as a cover up.”

If her goal was to discourage me to go, well I applaud her because it was working.

“You can't even speak French.”

“I only need to know basic French, because as I said I'm teaching English.”

“You're not serious. You really think you're grown and that you know everything. I've told you now, don't take that job.”

The way she said that sounded so ominous. It hurt me deeply that my mother would go to extreme lengths to stop me from doing something which I thought would be a great experience for me.

These were the times that I wished I could speak to Angelo, but he was at work, plus our communication was kind of awkward ever since I'd hung up the phone “in the presence of another male” as he so nicely put it.

When I'd called him later that night he was calm yet unresponsive, typical pissed-off Angelo style. He still wasn't getting the point that the only reason I had hung up the phone on him was because he was driving whilst on the phone – I wouldn't be the reason why he got himself into an accident.

But then he'd argued back that the previous times when he'd called and I knew he was driving I never did hang up the phone on him – which was true. And I'd tried to explain why I did but then he said his break time was ending and he needed to go.

I practically stayed up the night waiting for him to Skype me, but he didn't. We hadn't said our prayers together for the first time.

I mean, yeah, back when I was in the States we did argue as per usual. We probably argued about something everyday, but it was always cool between us, because we'd come together and squash the beef quickly. We pretty much acted like one of those couples with the wife complaining about how useless her husband was and then in the next second she would ask her husband what he wanted for dinner.

But for the last four days, it was like there was some sort of wall between us. The night before, our conversation had started out a little icy but a little better than the last few days but then it took a nose dive when he said we should video call and I'd said no. I just wasn't feeling it yesterday, I was on my period and felt like bleurgh and I didn't want him to see me with my raccoon eyes, clammy face and chapped lips. I could sense that he was trying to avoid an argument too and so he told me he had to do some work.

I put my foot down and before I let him go, I made us pray but even as I led the prayer, I felt disconnected and it felt empty between us.

After hanging up, I'd cried. It'd be the first time that I'd cried over a guy- actually that's a lie, nevertheless, the idea that I was crying over a guy just seemed so foolish to me and I had cried some more purely for that reason. I just did not understand what was going on.

I never usually was this overly emotional but the distance and decisions that I'd had to be making was overwhelming me.

After forever and ever had passed, my mum finally ended the phone call, but not without emphasising again how much risk I was putting myself under if I decided to go to Paris.

Let's just say I was not mad about the phone call coming to an end.

After finishing up tidying up Pepito's room, and seeing the cleaner off, I got myself ready to meet Dominica, so she would help me with my oral exam that I was seriously praying that I'd pass as language was most definitely not my forte and asking Angelo to help was totally out of the question.

I arrived at the fast food place first. Between getting the kids up and ready for their grandparents, studying a little and tidying a bit, I'd foregone eating, very unusual but when the smell of crispy French fries flirted with my senses, I didn't bother waiting for Dominica to show up and I just went to order.

Half an hour later when Dominica strolled in with a mildly annoyed look, I'd already finished my chicken burger and fries and I was slurping on my coke.

“Ciao bonita.”

Getting up, I placed one kiss on both her cheeks. “You're usually on time, did something happen?”

“My manager tell me he wants me to stay for one hour more because one staff call in sick but I say no. All the time, someone call in sick or late he always come to me the only negro that works there, to do overtime like I have nothing to do other than work like a dog.”

Okay, I was completely baffled. “So hold on, you just walked out?”

“Yes. He know I'm right and he couldn't say anything after I said all that, so I take my bag and leave.”

“You quit your job?”

“No. I have shift in the morning. I dare him to tell me that I can't work tomorrow,” then as an afterthought she added, “I'm not one of these black girls that these white people think they can dribble and manipulate.”

I laughed because of how I'd imagined the scene between her and her boss go down in my head. Whenever Dominica got real heated which was rare, her African side will make an appearance and she'd start cussing out in Portuguese. This boss of hers must have really had it coming for her to be this mad. Dominica was quite an easy-going person but nobody could take her for an idiot. Lord knows I wouldn't have the guts to do what she did.

After she cooled down she went to order for her food whilst I threw my rubbish away. When she came back with her everything large meal – another thing I liked about her, she loved to eat a lot - she didn't hesitate in digging into her food whilst cussing out her boss again for not giving her a proper break.

“So anyway tell me what's been going on with you?”

“Nothing really, just taking care of the children and studying for my exam.”

“So why do you look as if a cow sit on your face?”

Some may take offence at Dominica's humour but I found it completely hilarious, so when she said that my automatic reaction was to laugh.

She looked at me weird whilst putting some fries in her mouth. “¿Estás bien?

“I'm fine, just been a little bit busy.”

She wasn't convinced but she let it go and carried on eating her meal whilst engaging in some light conversation with me. Then out of nowhere she changed the topic to what I was really trying to avoid but silly enough to think Dominica would forget.

“Luciana, have you submitted the forms yet? We really need to look for apartment.”

“I haven't,” I said looking up to her forlorn expression, “but that doesn't mean I'm not going to...I've just been busy.”

That brought out a more relaxed look on her face and she was content enough that she resumed eating her fries but I felt sort of bad because I was sugar-coating the situation in order to give her the answer she wanted to hear.

See this is what I meant me being overwhelmed with decisions; there was another thing that happened during the week that was making me question my move to Paris and that was that the kids' parents had offered to extend my contract until mid January of the following year.

Two days ago they had called me to sit with them and told me they thought I was a positive influence in the children's life and they were happy with their progress. The told me how the kids too wanted me to stay, plus their work schedule left them too busy to interview for a new au pair.

And there lied my dilemma – I couldn't lie that the troublesome kids already held a special place in my heart but I also knew I wanted – no, needed more adventure in my life.

Been in Europe had changed me to quite an extent in the short period of time I'd arrived and I really did feel I was growing into my own person as opposed to when I was back in the States when I was basically over hovering over Angelo like a halo.

Little exaggeration, but the point being made is pretty clear. As sad as it sounds, Angelo was like my only friend; doing stuff and going out with him was my only respite.

It's like all the time people always want something from me, and then there's this generous, annoying, beautiful, frustrating guy who happens to be my boyfriend and all he wants to do is just give me all of him, just to appreciate how much he loves all of me.

I had wanted us to have our own lives, instead of clogging each other's space but now that we had that and more, it was like there was a huge gaping hole between us getting bigger and bigger.

Thinking about it, brought tears to my eyes, I bent my head down slurping on my drink to avoid Dominica seeing me.

“Luciana, les puedo decir que algo está mal con usted.”

“I didn't understand a word of what you said,” I said whilst trying to show some humour on my face.

She didn't buy into it one bit. “I can tell there is something wrong with you.”

I also wasn't the type be talking about my problems in general, courtesy of my mother, but all the decisions that I was expected to make within the next couple of days weighed heavy on my spirit and I thought having a secondary opinion on the situation wouldn't hurt.

“I don't know, I'm just having all these worries about Angelo and I.”

I never thought I'd one day be sharing my relationship problems with someone, it was still weird for me to think that I had a boyfriend, like an actual boy friend – it was pure madness.

“What kind of worries?”

“Like... are we going to be able to cope with our relationship in the long-term,” I said whilst feeling knots of anxiety being made in the middle of my chest.

She breathed out slowly before starting, “Okay, I'm going to be honest with you, but please don't think I'm being negative.”

“Okay,” I replied already predicting that I would not like what she would have to say.

“How old are you bonita, nineteen? Twenty? And he is what you say?”

“Nearly twenty-three.”

“Okay,” she said before taking another deep breath, “you both still very young. From little you mention of him he seems like a good guy but at twenty-two – no guy wants to be tied down to a girl.”

“He's not tied down.”

“Okay maybe not tied down -- think like this – from what I've gathered if a guy can fly out all the way from America, just to spend time with you for two days, that must mean his pocket swell, sí? But what about if he not rich?

“His money does not matter to me.”

“Oh you say that. But imagine if the guy had to save up for months just to buy a plane ticket. Long-distance never ideal.”

I stayed quiet because she was only saying what I couldn't voice out loud.

“Hm and don't think I haven't seen you staring at some nice looking hombres.”

“No I haven't.”

“Sí, sí, I see you don't lie.”

“Okay, give me an example of when I've stared at a guy longer than it was appropriate for me to have.”

“When we went bowling.”

“No, you cannot use that against me, he was talking so fast in Spanish I could not understand what he was saying.”

“He wasn't even talking to you!”

“Yes he was.”

“No he wasn't. His friend was behind you and he was telling him about the date he go to, the night before,”she replied lifting her eyebrows at me expectedly for a comeback.

I remained quiet because I realised I may or may not have been wrong – I had a thing for staring.

And Dominica had yet to finish what she wanted to say, “It's easier and more tempting to cheat in long-distance relationships.”

“I'm not going to cheat.”

That I could bank on. But what I couldn't exactly bank on was Angelo not cheating on me. I mean, I did trust him, but with my insecurities I couldn't help but fear that one day he would get tired of my ways.

“Bonita, you really need to think about what you want. You're young, don't stick to one just because you've grown familiar and you're scared of change. Change is how people grow in life. And I'm speaking to you as you're friend, not because I want you to come to Paris with me, even though I really want you to come.”

Dominica's words rung loud in my mind but not wanting to bemoan my uncertainties any longer, I lit up a forced smile and told her it was about time that I started practising for my oral exam.