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“Abuela.” I smile as I see her sitting at the breakfast table looking out of the window.
Cristina shakes her head, as if I shouldn’t disturb her. Abuela doesn’t flinch, it’s as if I’m not even in the room.
“What’s up with her?” I ask Cristina.
“I don’t know. I’m waiting for her to come out of whatever she’s thinking about.”
I’m confused, because I have no idea what she’s talking about, but as I approach mi abuela, I soon discover what she means. Abuela is just sitting there looking out at the garden with all the concentration in the world. Cristina is beside me and she’s looking at me with the same troubled expression, no doubt a reflection of how I’m looking at her wondering what is mi abuela looking at, and what’s wrong with her?
I start stroking Abuela’s back. A voice comes from behind. A familiar one, but it doesn’t register until Cristina says his name, and then I recognize who the voice belongs to.
“¡Leticia, estas aquí!2”
I spin around and then without hesitation, he lifts me up in the air, just like he used to do when we were dating. I used to find it romantic back then, but right now I pat him to put me down. Sure, I didn’t know Alberto was coming, but then I feel guilty about him lifting me in the air. I can see Diego’s face now, ready to beat him to a pulp.
“Sorry.”
“What? How?” The words won’t come out of my mouth properly to form a sentence. The same dark eyes and spiky hair. The same athletic physique that used to drive all the girls crazy, and I used to think it doesn’t matter because he’s mine. The same chiseled jawbones. The only difference is that he’s fiveyears older, and it seems as if he’s grown even better-looking during that time.
I’m speechless as I try and say something, but the words are not coming out. He even has the same woody scent.
“I called him. He’s a doctor,” Cristina says.
“Nearly, Cristina. I haven’t quite made it to the final hurdle.”
“Doctor?” At last something left my mouth which made sense.
“Yeah, it was always where my heart was, and besides, mi abuelo didn’t want to give up his hotel. I love being a medic. Or rather, a junior one.”
“And he lives three doors down the street, so I figured I would call him and see if he could see what’s going on with Abuela.”
He nods, but it is clear that the only thing on our minds is seeing each other again.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” He smiles.
“Alberto, Abuela,” Cristina says seriously, as if she’s reminding him that she didn’t invite him over to talk to me.
I watch as he takes Abuela from the window. She recognizes him and blinks her eyes a few times as if she’s in a trance.
“Abuela …” He doesn’t say another word before she cups his face.
“Alberto. How is your father?” He nods his head and smiles at her. She continues to ask about the rest of his family and the Alberto I once knew is replaced by a loving, caring one.
I knew back then the only reason he couldn’t wait to go to Sevilla was to be as far away from his family as possible, now he’s talking as if they are the love of his life.
“Well, she’s a lot better than she was last time,” Alberto smiles at me, while Cristina starts fixing something for Abuela to eat.
Did he say last time?
“What do you mean last time?” Cristina freezes as if she’s guilty of something. Alberto’s eyes shift from hers to mine, until eventually he draws closer towards me and motions for us to leave the kitchen. A dark cloud follows us as I think about the last time I saw Abuela and my family clearly keeping secrets from me. I hate that, I hate it with a passion.
“They told me that she left straight after the wedding, because she hurt her hand.”
Mi tía left with her to go back to the hotel, and they said that they would be getting a flight back home, because mi abuela only trusts her doctor and no one else. There was so much going on that day that I didn’t think anything of it, but now it is all making so much sense.
Alberto sighs, and then he motions for us to get farther away from the kitchen.
“They didn’t want to worry you, you shouldn’t blame them, flamingo.”
