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“Well, your sister was probably out with her fiancé, don’t you think?” Fermín needled. “It would be perfectly natural.”
I gave Fermín a kick under the counter, which he avoided with feline dexterity.
“Her fiancé is doing his military service,” Tomás said. “He doesn’t come back on leave for another two weeks. Besides, when she goes out with him, she’s home by eight at the latest.”
“And you have no idea where she was or who she was with?”
“He’s already told you he doesn’t, Fermín,” I intervened, anxious to change the subject.
“Nor your father?” insisted Fermín, who was thoroughly enjoying himself.
“No. But he’s sworn he’ll find out and he’ll break his legs and his face as soon as he knows who it is.”
I felt myself going deathly pale. Fermín offered me a cup of his concoction without asking. I drank it down in one gulp. It tasted like tepid diesel fuel. Tomás watched me but said nothing—a dark, impenetrable look.
“Did you hear that?” Fermín suddenly said. “Sounded like a drumroll for a somersault.”
“No.”
“Yours truly’s rumblings. Look, I’m suddenly terribly hungry…. Do you mind if I leave you two alone and run up to the baker’s to grab myself a bun? Not to mention the new shop assistant who’s just arrived from Reus: she looks so tasty you could eat her. She’s called María Virtudes, but despite her name the girl is pure vice…. That way I’ll leave you two to talk about your things, eh?”
In ten seconds Fermín had done a disappearing act, off for his snack and his meeting with the young woman. Tomás and I were left alone, enveloped in a silence as weighty as the Swiss franc. After several minutes I could no longer bear it.
“Tomás,” I began, my mouth dry. “Last night your sister was with me.”
He stared at me without even blinking.
I swallowed hard. “Say something,” I said.
“You’re not right in the head.”
A minute went by, with muffled sounds coming in from the street. Tomás held his coffee, which he had not touched.
“Are you serious?” he asked.
“I’ve seen her only once.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Would you mind?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “You’d better know what you’re doing. Would you stop seeing her just because I asked you to?”
“Yes,” I lied. “But don’t ask me to.”
Tomás looked down. “You don’t know Bea,” he murmured.
I didn’t reply. We let another few minutes go by without saying a word, looking at the gray figures that scanned the shop window, praying that one of them would decide to come in and rescue us from our poisoned silence. After a while Tomás abandoned his cup on the counter and made his way to the door.
“You’re leaving already?”
He nodded.
“Shall we meet up tomorrow for a while?” I said. “We could go to the cinema, with Fermín, like before.”
He stopped by the door. “I’ll tell you only once, Daniel. Don’t hurt my sister.”
On his way out, he passed Fermín, who was returning laden with a bag full of steaming-hot buns. Fermín saw him go off into the dusk, shaking his head. He left the buns on the counter and offered me anensaimada just out of the oven. I declined. I wouldn’t have been able to swallow even an aspirin.
