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So many have died on this road and they’ve built cycling tracks for them to ride on, but they insist on the road due to them worrying about the damage to their bike wheels. It’s nuts to me, because what’s more important than a life, certainly not the bicycle wheels.
“No. I have no time. I have to study and when I’m not studying I’m at the hospital. I do have the opportunity to go to New York for an internship. I was thinking about going there.”
Really?
Out of all the cities in the world, why would he have an opportunity to go to NY?
“I don’t know, Alberto. I’ve never worked in a hospital there. Besides, I’m not sure I will be there long,” I lie, but I don’t want any trouble and if Alberto thinks that he can sweet-talk me out of my marriage to Diego, then he can forget it. I’m well and truly taken, even if unofficially he’s still married to Belén. Officially I’m the one who holds the key to his heart.
No one speaks as the atmosphere in the car changes until we see everyone running as usual. My family as well as most of Madridians are late.
“We’re always late. Late,” Mamá complains as Papá tries to find somewhere to park.
“I’ll let you out here. Get out and then find a spot in the stadium for us to sit down.”
No one argues as he stops the car and we all hop out. I realize then that as much as I complain about thefestivos1, I’m keen to see them again. Yesterday was a little boring but today should be a lot more exciting with more trained matadores.
“Do you have mypipas2?” Abuela asks.
I realize the person I was most worried about coming here seems to have not forgotten about the bread, nor the sunflower seeds that we all eat while watching the games.
Cristina and I chuckle as we wave it in our hands, to show that we have brought the essentials.
“Good girls,” she says as she pinches both of our cheeks.
“Vamos3.” Mamá ushers us to hurry up with her.
“Not many people are going through this door, so let’s go in there,” Alberto says and everyone hurries through the door, including him.
Mamá pulls me back. “I never liked that Alberto. Just watch out.”
She winks at me, and I’m surprised because I remember her loving him. I wonder what changed her mind, either way, I’m happy that he came to look at Abuela, hopefully he’s here because of her and nothing else. Also, I’m glad that mis padres decided to close the bar today so we can enjoy the last day and have a family outing.
As we push and shove to get some seats, Alberto finds some friends who manage to allow us to sit near them. I remember him being so popular and the center of attention. There’s at least all the people from our village and neighboring villages stuffed in one stadium, and the benches are worn and torn. I worry that the thing will just collapse one day, because I don’t remember it being this crowded. It wasn’t yesterday but then the police are monitoring the crowd and as usual, I’m overthinking and worrying about things that don’t concern me.
“Aquí4,” Alberto beams as he pulls me to sit next to him.
I’m in a situation that I don’t want to be nor have to be in as he puts his arm around me.
“I’m married.”
“Lo siento5. It’s just like old times. Us sitting here with the family. I forgot myself.”
I sigh as I think about how I greeted him earlier, as if he was a blast from the past that I needed to see, but it was far from that. I was just surprised to see him. Now, I just want to be as far away from him as possible.
The games are starting and as expected, Papá was still driving around trying to find a parking space as Mamá gave us an update on whether he had a parking space or not. My eyes are still firmly on Abuela who seems to see some of her friends and no more is she lost like before.
“So, how often does she come and go like this?” I ask Alberto as I keep a watchful eye on Abuela.
He’s so close to me, a little too close that he can nearly kiss me, so I shift to the other side, so he can talk to my ear and not my lips.
“She’s at the early stages. I shouldn’t worry. She seems fine and before you know it, she’ll just have the odd incident and nothing more.”
I shake my head, because I’ve never heard of anyone coming out of dementia, if anything they just get worse. Then he pats my knee and I know as much as I was shocked seeing him before, I really need to get out of this situation.
As the bulls come out and the matadores dressed in white start encouraging the crowd, he loses interest in me. Especially when a couple of his friends start shouting his name, and he nearly steps on people just to get to them.
I recognize them. “Richard, Ricardo, and Roberto. The threeR’s. This is what we used to call them back in high school, and it seems their friendship hasn’t changed.
