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I smile, recalling all the times Jaime has said something like that. He always says I’m a controversy; that I look like the stereotypical princess, but what I really am is a warrior in full body armor. Jaime thinks that comes from having grown up with four brothers. And it’s true that I’ve always been treated like a little princess, but they also took me down a peg when they needed to.
So I’m a princess who played with swords and guns, skateboards and video games; a princess who played at ducking in the swimming pool, loved toy cars and bicycle races, and who never looked for her prince charming or wanted to live in a castle. All of that simply... came.
I like speed—within its legal limits, of course; I’m straightforward and blunt, I don’t like to beat about the bush; I love playing video games; I prefer texting to an actual call; I find it difficult to say “I love you,” even if I feel that love in my soul. I’m rougher than my delicate appearance suggests. I’ve been so hardened from fighting with my brothers that I probably wouldn’t be that disadvantaged in hand-to-hand combat.
So how am I a princess? The way I dress, puffy skirts and flashy shoes, pompoms and glitter; I like braids in my hair, colored bows and headbands; I like to sit up straight and I’ve loved makeup since I can remember. I always asked for makeup kits for Christmas and I used to sneak into my mother’s bathroom to use hers. I was convinced I needed to press hard to make them work so... I made a fair few messes. Broke a few lipsticks and eyeshadow cakes. I’ve improved my technique over the years—now I like to go out with very light makeup: a bit of lip-gloss, some eyeliner, a discreet eyeshadow.
“Jaime thinks I’m a walking contradiction.” I say, turning to face my brother. But I realize too late he’s not the one at my side. It’s... Alex.
When did this happen? And where is Adrián? He was next to me seconds ago.
My internal questions are interrupted by a hoarse, angry voice.
“Jaime thinks you’re a walking contradiction? Jaime thinks, she says, the fucking nerve!”
And with no further ado, Alex storms away, leaving me totally confused. What did I say now?
“You need to fuck him.” Jaime’s voice comes from my right flank, startling me.
“What?”
“Fuck him. That way you’ll be able to stop thinking about it. And looking at him so much.”
I glance at Jaime, frowning. I don’t understand his reasoning.
“You two left things unfinished,” he explains, handing me my drink. I take a long sip as soon as I have it in my hands. “It’s pretty simple. What did you do the last time you saw each other? Before you came back here?”
I don’t need to even think about it. I know exactly what we did the last time we were face to face. The word sticks in my throat, but I just blurt it out.
“Argued.”
“Right. Argued. So four years ago you had an argument and then you parted ways. You haven’t seen or spoken to each other since then—Hey, where the fuck is your brother?”
Jaime looks for Adrián but, like me, he can’t find him. He shrugs and sets his drink on the bar. Then he looks at me, for confirmation. I give it to him.
“Essentially.”
“So you were in love and all of a sudden one day you argued. That must have been one hell of an argument...” Jaime looks at me, searching for my confirmation again, but I neither affirm nor deny. To be honest, it wasn’t an ugly argument. It was just silly. The ugly came later, but we didn’t argue then. So I just nod for him to keep going. “My point is that you need closure. You have to accept that you did love each other four years ago but not now, not anymore. Now you’re just confused, you have doubts about what you feel. And all those doubts would be cleared up with a goodbye fuck. That’s the way to get it off your chest and continue with your life.”
“I can’t sleep with him.”
I turn my head and glance over at Alex as I take a couple of swigs of my beer. I can’t. Of course I can’t. I don’t even dare to look at him too much. He’s as handsome as ever and the attraction I felt for him hasn’t died. But also, his hate-filled glares hurt. And I don’t want him to hate me. I can’t stand him hating me. I don’t like it. Despite everything, I don’t like it.
I’ve been through a lot of emotions with Alex. We’ve had our phases—in the beginning, he captivated me with his dismissive looks and his reserve. Later I disliked him for a while; he was an arrogant ass who did nothing but show off. Then I fell madly in love with him, discovered the Alex behind all that. And then I hated him. Hated him. Now I have no idea what I feel anymore and I don’t have the courage to think about him too much or analyze my feelings. So I don’t dare even to look at him and acknowledge he’s handsome.
“Yes, you can,” Jaime carries on. “You left things unfinished, I just told you. You went from fucking like crazy to hating each other, and now you’re confused and you don’t know if you want to fuck or if you want to hate each other, so I think you should fuck and then see what happens.”
I realize then than the music has changed to something more cheerful, “Aquellos años locos” by El Canto del Loco. I hadn’t even noticed.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not in love with him.”
“Cabana, we’ve been through this before: sex is just sex.”
“You’re talking about me having sex with my husband.”
