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23.
GABI STUDIED HERSELF INthe mirror. She looked older, though she wasn’t really. Maybe it was just that she felt older, and in a good way. Spending time with Aisha, she’d realised two things. One, that she really did love her, and two, the scale of challenge they faced to be together was bigger than she had realised. She hadn’t talked to Aisha yet, but she would have to soon, because snatching moments whenever Aisha came to the city, whenever she could escape from her mama, wouldn’t be enough for Gabi.
Gabi had stayed out of sight for the band’s Saturday evening performances, because Aisha had asked her to. But she’d watched from a distance. Aisha worked around the clock, whereas apart from working in Matías’s workshop, which she thoroughly enjoyed, Gabi’s days ticked by slowly. She’d asked Aisha to go out with her again, to Màlaga or to the theatre, but Aisha had said it would be tricky. Getting home late after their beach day hadn’t gone down well with her mama, and she needed to tread carefully. It was an impossible situation, caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.
And now she had to go to the bloody fiesta in Sacromonte and face Aisha’s mama and family. Gabi’s stomach churned. She wanted to like Aisha’s parents for Aisha’s sake, but she didn’t, and there was only one thing that would change her opinion of them: accepting Aisha for who she was.
She tucked her shirt into the waist of her trousers, then untucked it and straightened it. In or out? She settled for in, neater and less modern. She rearranged her hair now that the gel had dried and tugged at it to give it a bit more height, hoping that if it looked longer on top, Aisha’s mama wouldn’t judge her too harshly. The hedgehog look wasn’t working, so she tried to soften it and ended up with something messier but softer.
She rubbed her palms down her jeans’ legs and inhaled to calm her thumping pulse. She felt watched already, and it was terrifying. Having to keep her distance from Aisha and avoid any physical contact would be painful. She would have to be careful how she looked at her, hide her smile, and not speak to her for too long because their feelings for each other would be like a beacon to Aisha’s mama. She would be on edge all evening, because how could she not be?
“Are you ready, Gabriela? I don’t want to be late.”
They could drive to the beach and back and still not be late, and despite her concerns about facing Aisha’s family, Gabi wanted to see Aisha. Though why they had to take the bloody bus again was beyond Gabi. “I’m coming.” After one last flick at her hair, she headed into the living room.
Nana held Gabi’s arms and looked her up and down. “You look stunning, cariño.”
Nana wore a new lilac blouse and a black skirt that finished below her knees. She looked every bit like a flamenco dancer, albeit older than the average one. She picked up a cake box and handed it to Gabi.
“What’s this?”
“A flan. I made it with oranges from Pablo’s garden. You need to keep it upright.”
“No pressure.” Juggling a large cake box that weighed a good few pounds while being tossed around on the bus was far from a relaxing way to start an evening that Gabi was already screwed up about. “Why don’t we take a taxi?”
“Because I like the bus. Anyway, we have a taxi booked to come home.” She picked up her new matching lilac handbag and her cane and headed out the door. “Come on, Gabriela, or we’ll miss the bus.”
Thankfully, the aroma in the bus was less intense, or it might have curdled Nana’s flan. Nana sat with her cane between her legs and her hands clasped around the top of it, as she always did. Gabi rested the box on her lap. The chill warmed, and she thought the flan might disintegrate in her lap, so she held it up, and within a few minutes, her forearms started to burn. Sweat beaded her brow, and her stomach knotted. “So, how is Pablo?” she asked, hoping a distracting conversation might alleviate her increasing discomfort.
“Such a kind man. He lost his wife recently. I think he’s enjoying the company. We have a mutual love of nature. Do you know how many bird varieties there are here?”
“That’s nice.” Gabi stared out the window while Nana continued talking about the birds, their markings, their migration and nesting habits, and their diet. She spotted a bird standing on a boulder at the side of the road. It looked a lot like a robin with its reddish-brown chest but also like a finch with its stripped head and brown wings. It flew away, and Gabi wondered how she could fly away with Aisha.
The closer they got to the small white houses on the hillside, the tighter Gabi’s stomach twisted. She would try to hold on to the excitement of spending an evening around Aisha and not let it be overshadowed by her increasing anxiety. Aisha had tried to be reassuring, but Gabi saw her concern. It hadn’t been easy for Gabi having one parent who disapproved of her choices. Having two would be impossibly hard, and a whole village, terrifying.
By the time they got off the bus, Gabi was about ready to throw the flan the rest of the way up the hill. She’d stopped counting the bicep curls at two hundred. She rested it on the wall, shook out the tension, and picked the box back up. The muscles in her arms complained.
Nana set off towards the caves, wielding her cane enthusiastically. Gabi warmed inside. Nana had not only left England behind, but she also appeared to have shed a few years since they’d arrived in Granada. And now, she was going back to the place that held her fondest memories.
“There she is,” Nana said and approached Aisha with open arms.
Gabi smiled, thankful for the box to occupy her hands, and Aisha stepped up and kissed her cheeks. Heat flared through her, and she looked around the street to avoid eye contact.
The strumming of a guitar accompanied the spitting log fire, and the roasting meat above it circulated a spicy aroma. Gas lights lined the street, and they flickered as the sun cast reds and oranges across the side of the hill. A chill slid down Gabi’s spine in the warm air, and when a wailing cry pierced the sky around them, the hairs on her arms and neck rose.
“Ah, the call,” Nana said.
“What is it?”
“It is the cante jondo, traditional flamenco singing, cariño. Real flamenco.”
It sounded like cats squealing. The call quieted, and the fierce sound of guitars assaulted Gabi’s ears.
“And that’s the response,” Nana said.
Gabi had never seen Nana so excited.
“How wonderful, Gabriela. Be sure to enjoy every moment. It’s a memory you won’t want to forget.”
