“She’s always been a difficult woman.”
“Difficult? It’s beyond disgusting to have to listen to her. Every word drips with malice and contempt. She makes no secret of her feelings. I don’t think she disliked álvaro any more than the others; she seems to have despised her three sons equally. But she led me to understand that because of his unbending character, álvaro gave them the most headaches.” He snorted in anger. “That’s saying a lot, considering that another son was a drug addict. Even so, I can’t imagine any justification for banishing a boy of that age from home, separating him from his family and acting as if he were dead.” He glared at Lucas. “Did you know that after they sent him to boarding school in Madrid, they took his room apart and stored his things? álvaro didn’t come back often, but when he did, he had to sleep in a guest room. As if he were a total stranger with no right to be there.” Manuel shook his head at that unbelievable treatment. “You were classmates. Do you think it was because his sexual inclination was starting to manifest itself?”
“At twelve álvaro wasn’t stereotypically effeminate or delicate or even particularly sensitive; if that’s what you mean, I’d have to say no. Just the opposite, in fact. He was slim and wiry, not particularly muscular. I remember he always had skinned knees. He didn’t particularly go looking for trouble, but he wasn’t afraid of it either. The few times I saw him get into a fight with another boy, it was always to defend his brother Santiago.”
“Herminia told me that Santiago didn’t have many friends when he was little.”
“Mostly because he was a loudmouthed little troublemaker. He usually got away with it because álvaro was there to intervene. I remember none of our crowd could stand Santiago. He was a pest, always hanging around us. Typical, I suppose, of little brothers. He seemed fascinated by everything álvaro did. I remember that more than once during breaks or after school, we’d do everything we could to distract him and get rid of him. I guess we weren’t terribly kind, but we were all just children. You know how it is. But there’s no doubt about it—Santiago was a pain.”
“His mother made no secret of her feelings. She said that two of her sons were born without character, but álvaro had enough for all of them put together. Though she claimed that he was perverted.”
Lucas emphatically rejected that, pressing his lips together and shaking his head. “I know what the marquess meant to say. álvaro was forever disobeying and defying his parents. Especially when it came to his friends, all of them kids from the village, from poor families. We were always roaming around the estate, going up the hill to explore or swimming in the river. From today’s perspective that might not seem so serious, but for álvaro’s father the dictates of social class were that certain lines could never be crossed. He took as a deliberate affront the fact that his son stubbornly insisted on associating with unacceptable companions. Between the ages of eight and twelve, álvaro was always being punished, but that didn’t deter him. He’d escape through the estate gardens and walk cross-country to the old abandoned barn where we used to meet him. His father was always threatening to send him to boarding school, and finally he did exactly that.” Lucas shrugged. “On the other hand, it wasn’t uncommon for unruly sons of well-off families to be exiled to expensive boarding schools where they associated with other troublemakers of their own social class. He came back during vacation breaks the first year, but after that maybe only at Christmas. He never stayed longer than two or three days. They sent him back to Madrid.”
“They left him in Madrid over summer vacation?”
“He went to camps and summer programs, but he never came home. Once he was legally an adult, he didn’t set foot on the estate again until his father died. At least that was the official version.”
Manuel put his wineglass down on the little table between the deck chairs. He leaned forward for an explanation.
“No doubt you were told that álvaro’s sexual orientation was a surprise to them, and so was the fact that he was married to you.”
“Yes.”
“Well, it wasn’t that much of a secret. álvaro didn’t come home, but his father still covered his expenses, financed his education, and provided the funds to set him up in his professional career. After that álvaro was completely independent. I don’t believe the old man’s actions were inspired by generosity or fatherly concern; I think he simply would have found it a blot on the family escutcheon for the son of a Spanish aristocrat to wind up working as a supermarket clerk. Or, worse, for such a thing to become generally known. I’m sure that the old marquis found it less distasteful to support the lifestyle of his black-sheep son than to have the boy mix with the common people.” Lucas grimaced. “The two of them scarcely said a word to one another the few times that álvaro came back. Communications were broken off entirely after that. But his father was always fully informed about álvaro’s life in Madrid.” He studied his glass. “The old marquis was one of those men who keeps a close eye on everyone, friends and enemies alike, certainly those who pleased him but especially anyone who caused him trouble. And álvaro was a problem.” He finished off his wine. “I said álvaro had no contact with his family until the old marquis died, but that’s not entirely true. álvaro did come back one time. His father summoned him for a discussion ten years ago.”
Manuel straightened up in his seat. He took a deep breath and looked out into the blackness below the horizon and the clear September sky now sprinkled with sparkling stars, a promise the next day would be sunny.
Ten years. He would never forget that time. They’d already lived together for years, but after the passage of the 2005 law on marriage equality, they set the date and got married on Christmas of the following year. This coming December would mark their tenth anniversary.
“Tell me about it.”
Lucas nodded, pained by the weight of words he knew to be hurtful even before they were articulated. He owed this to Manuel, for he’d sworn there would be no more lies.