‘Zara went up and had a bath with her gift bag. She came to her balcony to wave to me, she looked so happy,’ Miguel informs me.
‘They could have fun with a candle,’ I say.
‘No, that hurts. I know,’ he says.
I shake my head at Miguel as he looks up at the villa balconies.
‘Listen,’ he says.
‘God, can you hear them?’ I say, leaning an ear upwards.
‘No.Silencio. They are occupied, restful, they will come down and they will be glowing. I also have a gift bag for you,’ he tells me, handing me one.
‘You boughtmea dildo?’ I ask anxiously.
‘No. I bought youlubricante. You use the plug for the butt?’ he asks me candidly.
‘You bought one for me?’ I say, opening the bag. There’s also something that looks like a bottle opener with a hole. I may have to search for this on Google Images. I take it out and look at it curiously.
‘You wear: it is also waterproof. You can wear in the shower. My gift to you. My boy also needs to have fun and relax,’ he says, bowing his head.
I chuckle. ‘That’s very thoughtful of you.’
‘So how do you know I give dildos to the girls? Why did you tell me off? Did someone complain? Was it the tense girl?’ Miguel asks.
‘Her name is Chloe.’
‘Big knots, all in her shoulders. She really needed the gift bag,’ he jokes.
I narrow my eyes at him and he gives me a curious look in return. ‘Unless she does not need the gift bag?’
I sit down in front of him. ‘We may have hugged earlier.’
Miguel lets out a supportive whoop and slaps me on the back.
‘Oh God, shush…she might hear you. It was only a hug and it wasn’t very professional of me. I’m running this retreat.’
‘Benny boy, this is not a normal hotel. It is a retreat. An escape. They are drinking a lot of wine, you cook, what is a little kissy-kissy here and there? It’s like when your Uncle Lorenzo owned this place.’
‘Miguel, when Lorenzo owned this place, it sounds like it was a twenty-four-hour orgy. This is a classy establishment,’ I say.I’m trying very hard to veer away from the nineties version of the Casa de Clap.
‘She is a pretty girl. Architect. Nice legs.’
‘I haven’t been looking at her legs,’ I say, hoping he can’t read my face. But I can’t deny that feeling of warmth and connection with another person has unearthed something inside me. My sisters are big huggers and occasionally I receive a hug from a customer who enjoyed my burrata but that was a different type of hug. I loved the silent, still, drawn-out nature of my hug with Chloe; my want and need to have her close, to protect her. It makes me strangely sad to have such a visceral reaction to a hug, to miss that contact with another person.
‘Tell me, Benji boy. In London, do you have a girlfriend?’ Miguel asks me.
‘No,’ I say, exhaling slowly. I did date a florist called Shanae a few months back who analysed the situation really well:I’m in a relationship. But with my restaurant.
‘It’s a shame with a face so nice,’ he says, slapping my cheeks. ‘You know your Uncle Lorenzo always liked hearing stories of you. He joined the Facebook to catch up with you all, to see the babies and photos of you all together. It brought him much joy,’ Miguel tells me.
I perch on a nearby table to listen to him.
‘One thing Lorenzo always used to say is,why is Ben on his own?Always on his own,’ Miguel continued.
I smile. ‘That would be my sisters’ fault – they usually scare away any prospective girlfriends. It’s why I had to pretend I was dating the goat.’
Miguel laughs but shakes his head, knowing that’s not true. But maybe it’s because he knows that, like some boring adult, I’ve invested a lot of time and energy into work, into the restaurant, into my financial responsibilities. I think about my life back home where I don’t even have time for friends. I’vebecome so used to my solitude that now I accept it as a way of life.
