Love in English

Chapter Six
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“I’ll give you ten euros if you do it.”
I put down my drink and gave Eduardo a steady look. “Are you serious?”
“Of course,” he exclaimed and patted Angel on the back, hard. “Isn’t that right, Angel?”
Angel, who probably spoke the least English out of everyone at Las Palabras, nodded. Like his namesake, he had a round face and a mop of curly brown hair. His thick-framed glasses and geek chic outfit made it hard for me to determine if he was a young hipster or a nerd in his mid-thirties. He worked for a software company in Madrid, which didn’t help.
I plucked the cherry out of my screwdriver and held it in front of my mouth. I looked to Eduardo who was eyeing me with a big fat grin on his face.
He and Angel were among the first people to show up at the party. I had gotten there early, not wanting to pull the same thing I did at dinner and get there late. I had gotten so wrapped up with catching up on Facebook and writing long emails to Josh and Jocelyn that I barely noticed everyone piling past me into the dining room. By the time I logged off, all the tables were taken and I had to sit with Edna, a retired teacher from Manchester who really didn’t seem to like me. She was here with her husband Nick and I recognized them as the people who had given me dirty looks on the bus.
Luckily, the Spaniards I sat with were nice. There was quiet Cristina who barely talked and Yolanda, a hippie-ish woman with a toothy grin and really dark skin that looked like beef jerky. Yolanda loved to talk and show off the English she picked up from some yoga guru in Nepal. I don’t know what she was talking about, actually, but it prevented me from having to contribute to the conversation. I just concentrated on the wine and the food the whole meal, occasionally looking over at Mateo who was sitting with Wayne, Beatriz and a pretty blonde I think was named Polly. He had seemed to be chipper over dinner, laughing loudly at whatever Wayne was saying.
“Well, do it,” Eduardo coaxed to me, bringing my attention to the task at hand. He was a cute guy, late twenties, kind of short and on the preppy side but he had flawless golden skin and really nice smile. He was also a bit of a pervert. Then again, so was I.
“All right,” I said. I placed the cherry in my mouth and bit it off seductively. This part was for the show. Eduardo eyed my lips eagerly as I sucked on it for a moment and Angel seemed to blush right up to his roots. Then I smiled and swallowed it down. Time for the party trick.
I placed the stem into my mouth and with deft concentration I slowly worked the two ends together with my tongue, trying to tie it into a knot. As sexy as it was supposed to be, it’s actually impossible to look good while doing this and I knew my face was contorted.
It took a few seconds longer than I would have liked but eventually I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue, the knotted stem displayed proudly.
Eduardo pulled an impressed face.
“Showing off your ring?” I heard Mateo say. A deliciously fresh ocean smell filled my nose and Mateo came into view, walking behind Eduardo and peering at me in curiosity. I promptly stuck my tongue back in my mouth and watched as his mouth curved up in a wicked smile.
Angel nudged Eduardo. “Give her money.”
I tore my eyes off of Mateo as Eduardo groaned and fished out his wallet. He slapped ten euros down into my hand and winked at me. “It was worth it.” He and Angel turned and walked off to the bar, which now had a line of people at it, the two women from reception now back there and popping off bottle caps.
Mateo folded his muscled arms across his chest. Though he was still wearing his sleek blue dress pants from earlier, now he had a white linen shirt that was unbuttoned just enough to give a hint of groomed chest hair. Something about that made a lusty thrill run through me. Every guy I’d been with had been smooth and hair free as a baby. Mateo was one hundred percent the opposite of that, one hundred percent man.
One hundred percent taken, I quickly reminded myself before the screwdriver went to my head.
“You got a job?” he asked in a smooth voice.
“What?”
He nodded at the ten euro note in my hand.
“Oh,” I said, shoving it in my small purse. I smiled. “No, I’m just taking bets. Tying a cherry stem with just your tongue, it’s a classic.”
He grinned at me with his white, polished teeth. I noticed there was one on the bottom that was kind of crooked. I liked that. It gave him character—not that he needed any more. “I wouldn’t know,” he said, in a way that let me know he did. His eyes left my mouth and then traveled down my body. “You look very nice.”
There was nothing smarmy or inappropriately sexual about the remark but my body didn’t know that. A shiver went down my spine and my nipples hardened. I cursed myself for not wearing a bra, even though the flowery maxi dress I was wearing did a good job of keeping the girls up.
“Thank you,” I said, trying not to beam too much. I was about to say the same thing to him when Claudia appeared at our side, reeking like a cloud of cigarette smoke. Man, she had the worst timing.
With her she had Becca, who looked a bit older than me, pixie red hair, pale as snow skin with freckles, and Sammy, a tiny, plump Australian chick in a too-tight shift dress, topped with frizzing blonde hair and gap-toothed grin. Sammy had sat next to me at the computer terminal when I was waxing on to Jocelyn about the program so far (I had been too paranoid to mention Mateo) and she’d come across like a chatterbox, talking to everyone who came through. Now she seemed drunk, swaying on her high heeled pumps, but she was smiling and anyone who smiled was good in my books.
“Vera,” Claudia reprimanded, “I missed you at dinner. I sat with these two, do you know Becca and Sammy?”
I caught Mateo’s eye briefly as he gave me a sly nod and then moved over to the bar to go talk to Antonio. Damn it. I suppose being around four women was probably too much for him.
I turned my attention back to Claudia, said hi to Sammy again and nodded at Becca.
“I saw you earlier,” Sammy slurred in her Aussie accent. Since the bar hadn’t been open for long, I wondered what she had been drinking. “I was going to tell you I liked your boots, the ones you had earlier, but you seemed to be writing up a storm.”
“I was getting my friends caught up,” I said, even though I really only had one friend.
She pointed a finger at me. “You know what you should do. Becca here, she has a blog. She blogs about her travel adventures and such. You should have a blog. Did you know this is her third time doing the program?”
Now I was intrigued. I looked at her with raised brows. “Really?”
Becca nodded shyly. “Yeah, three years in a row,” she said in quiet Scottish accent.
“Then you must like it,” I said. Captain Obvious, reporting for duty here.
She blushed but didn’t say anything, which made me think there was more to her story. Unfortunately, this was the time that Jerry appeared, climbing on top of the coffee table again, with a microphone he just whipped out of nowhere. I made a mental note to talk to Becca later and affixed my attention on Jerry before he yelled at me.
“Greetings, Anglos and Spaniards,” he said, his crackled voice coming out through a speaker in the corner. Totally unnecessary considering how small the room was. “I hope you’ve all enjoyed your official first day at Casa de Las Palabras!”
People clapped at that, a few hollered. I had the impression that everyone had gotten drunk at dinner because that’s the only way I could imagine anyone tolerating Jerry’s embarrassing enthusiasm.
“So,” he said, “I wanted to kick off the week with a party just for you guys. There are no rules, except for speaking English. Have fun and make sure you tip the bartenders! Every other night after dinner, we will be participating in the extracurricular activities, so enjoy this night while you can! Ole!” He then jumped off the coffee table, took a bit of a stumble and went falling into Angel who was the one closest to him.
I groaned and shook my head, looking back at the girls. Sammy was pulling a flask out of her bling bling purse and passing it to Claudia. So, that’s how they were doing it.
Claudia took a sneaky sip back and then, after an inquisitive glance to Sammy, passed it on to me.
I took a gulp of the burning, stinging liquid.
And that was that.
* * *
When my alarm went off at seven am the next morning, I could have sworn I had died at some point during my sleep and gone straight to hell. It was impossible for anyone to feel this horrible. My stomach burned with firewater, my hair smelled like an ashtray and the room was spinning slowly, in beat with the pounding in my head.
I moaned and tried to roll over but my head was in a vice and every time I moved, it tightened until I could feel my pulse in my temple. If I was back home, I would have taken some Gravol, drank a litre of Gatorade, taken a few B vitamins and prayed for sleep to take me away again.
But I wasn’t at home. I was in Spain. I was at a program that I was technically working for and there was no such thing as sleeping off a hangover. I had to get up. I had to get on with the day.
I had to try really, really hard not to vomit everywhere.
I practically crawled into the shower and sat on the tiles, letting the warm water hit my face, trying to knock some sense into me.
Dear god, what the hell happened last night?
Everything came back, sifting into my brain like shards of glass.
After Claudia, Sammy, Becca and I finished the flask of grappa—aka firewater, aka burning liquid of death—our party of four got moved upstairs. The dangerously narrow iron staircase led up to a large room where we’d be having all of our “extracurricular activities.” I don’t know who designed the building and thought putting the bar downstairs would be a bright idea, but there you go. From the amount of people who tripped on the small steps, we quickly nicknamed it the staircase of doom.
Once up there, it turned into a full-on dance party. Mustached Antonio started doing the hustle. Sammy was trying to grind up on Ricardo who was trying to grind up on Claudia. A massive conga line formed and I got stuck between Dave and Eduardo. Yolanda started making out with an Anglo guy I hadn’t met with. I was telling crude jokes with Dave and the English girl Polly. At some point during the night, I thought it would be funny to do Jaegerbombs with Beatriz.
Then a slow song came on, like a f*cking high school dance, and drunken Beatriz went and asked Mateo to dance with her. And just like in high school, I felt a sickening bout of jealously as Mateo said yes and they were the first ones out on the floor, her sleek, honeyed limbs wrapped around his. It was all very innocent but it didn’t stop me from feeling drunkenly outraged.
People were cheering, and to save face, I had to cheer too. Soon, everyone was slow dancing and, again, just as in high school, I found myself gravitating toward a back-up plan. I grabbed Dave, took him out into the middle of the floor and wrapped my hands around his skinny waist.
The last thing I remembered was going outside with Dave to have a cigarette and…and…
I kissed him. The image flashed in my head, the feeling of his lips on mine, the taste of tar and nicotine, my hands stuck in his greasy hair.
I’d f*cking kissed a guy and on my first day of the program.
I grimaced at the memory. It wasn’t that Dave was a bad kisser or that I didn’t like him, but we were both drunk and anytime I did something drunk that I probably wouldn’t do when I was sober, I felt uneasy and a bit ashamed. I mean, don’t get me wrong, usually when I slept with guys I was sober—and horny as hell. But there have always been a few situations where I should have had a clearer head.
In this case, I couldn’t really remember how the night ended, how we parted, if anyone invited anyone else back to their room and why that didn’t end up happening. It ended at us making out but not having sex and I wasn’t sure why. Bravo to me if I chose celibacy for the night. I was also unsure of how to approach Dave when I saw him and I didn’t know if anyone else had seen us or how fast gossip traveled around a place like this.
Ugh.
I wanted to sit in that shower all day long, but eventually I found the will to get to my feet and work shampoo into my hair. After I let the conditioner sit for ten minutes, remembering the strawberry blonde color was fragile (my natural color was dark blonde), I rinsed and got out. I could barely look at myself in the mirror. Not only was my reflection moving from the spins, but I looked absolutely wretched.
With a deep sigh, I brought out my arsenal of make-up and went after my face with a heavy hand. Going overboard was the only way out of this. If I didn’t look like myself, that was good.
I’d just managed to put on a single coat of mascara when there was a knock at the door. I staggered over to it and opened it to see Becca standing on the other side. For some reason she looked as fresh as a daisy with her bright eyes and cute red hair. I wanted to punch her.
“You don’t remember inviting me, do you?” she asked cautiously, an impish smile on her lips.
I looked down at myself. I was just wearing a thin Banksy t-shirt and boy shorts. Whoops.
I raised my finger. “Uh, just a minute.”
I quickly ran back to my room and threw on the same skinny jeans and boots as yesterday and an aqua tank top that was probably too boobilicious but what the f*ck ever, it was better than a see-through shirt. I gathered my hair back into a top knot, plucked up my purse and ran back over to her. Sara was nowhere to be in seen and I wondered if she had left already. Perhaps she was also suffering from the mother of all hangovers. I recalled her doing shots of tequila with Angel.
Becca, on the other hand, was annoyingly bushy-tailed.
“Hi,” I said to her. “Sorry about that.”
“I’m surprised you’re awake,” she said in her lilting accent. “I was hesitant to come by.”
I groaned internally, feeling a wash of shame. “I was pretty drunk last night, wasn’t I?” I asked as I stepped outside and closed the door. Better to bite the bullet and get it over with.
It was chilly outside and my skin erupted into goosebumps. I embraced it. It slapped some sense into my foggy head.
“Oh you were fine,” she said. “Granted, I don’t know you but you didn’t make a fool of yourself, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve seen a lot of these first night parties, well, three so far, and I know what to expect now. Last night was fairly tame compared to others.” She studied me. “You did tell me though, after you stopped sucking Davey’s face, that you wanted to talk to me about my experience with the program.”
Oh, busted. I shot her a sheepish look. “So you saw that. Did anyone else?”
She shook her head. “I was heading home to my flat and happened upon you two outside. I didn’t want to interrupt but you saw me and left Davey with an acute case of blue balls. I said I’d come by and get you in the morning, before breakfast. So, here I am.”
I massaged the heel of my palm into my forehead. I couldn’t remember why I had wanted to talk to Becca last night, while I was so-called “sucking face” but I did know that sober me wanted to know more about her time in the program. God, every time I heard that word—the program—I started thinking I was in some sci-fi dystopian book.
It was still early, so we grabbed some cheap cappuccinos to go from the vending machine in reception and went for a walk down the hill toward the country road. Now the sun was higher and the birds were chirping. A dog barked from behind a neighboring stone house.
“So, why have you come back here three times?” I asked her as we leaned against a low wall and watched a few black hogs root around for acorns in their pen across the street. “I can’t believe I even got through the first day.”
“It is exhausting,” she said before taking a sip of her drink. She had very long pale eyelashes that contrasted with her striking storm-colored eyes. “But you’ll get used to it. My first time, I only did a week. This was back when the program was just starting and they weren’t sure if it was going to be a success or not.” She looked at me in earnest. “It was seriously the best week of my life. I’d bonded with everyone—Anglos and Spaniards—like they were my long lost family. Have you ever been to a camp as a child and bonded so well with your mates that you never wanted to leave?”
I shook my head. I had wanted to go to this riding camp that had haflinger ponies when I was young but my parents said they couldn’t afford it. The truth was, I just wanted to get away from their fighting, but having my own pony for a week would have been the icing on the cake.
“Neither had I,” she said with a smile. “But I imagine that’s what it’s like. I made amazing friends during that time, people I am still close with. I…” she looked down at her coffee cup like it was fascinating, “I even fell in love.”
In a week? I nearly laughed until I studied her elf-like face. Oh, she was serious.
She shot me a sideways glance. “I know what you’re thinking, but this place will change you and change the way you think. For someone like me—I’m an only child to a single mum—this made me feel like I belonged.”
“So you fell in love,” I mused. “With who? Are you still…together?”
She laughed. “Oh, heavens, no. This place will make you bond but in the end, it’s never really to be. It’s rare to meet someone that’s from around where you live. The man I fell in love with was from New Zealand. When our week was up, I went back to Edinburgh and he went back to Auckland. Nothing we could do about it. We still keep in touch, through Facebook. He had a girlfriend for a while. I miss him and in some ways, I think we’ve grown closer. But that’s life.”
She chewed on her rosy lips. “Anyhoo, all is well that ends well. I signed up for two weeks the next year. Fell in love all over again.”
“New guy?” I asked, surprised at this soft-spoken girl.
“A Spaniard this time,” she said. A dreamy look passed over her eyes for a split second. It was enough to make me smile. “His name was Xavier, he was from a town called Tarragona. He had a girlfriend but…she was forgotten fairly soon.” She caught the frown on my face. “I know, that sounds callous. But this place does things to you. Believe me, you’ve already been caught up in it.”
Mateo? I thought for a moment. No, she meant Dave. Of course.
She went on, “You’ll see. End of this week, you’ll learn who has hooked up with who. It’s like…you isolate a bunch of adults in the middle of the Spanish countryside and all the rules get thrown out the window.”
I finished my coffee down. For some reason the conversation was making me uncomfortable. “Sounds like it gets messy.”
She nodded slowly. “It can. But most people try and protect their hearts. I think that’s only natural. No one expects anything when they come to one of these places and if they do, they learn from it. I know I did after Blair—that was my Kiwi love. Xavi was just for fun. And this time? Well, I don’t know. After everything I’ve said, I don’t actually come here to find love. It just happens.”
“Why do you come here?”
She turned so the sun was at her back and her face gazed at me through shadow. “To belong.” She looked back to the crest of the hill. “Shall we head back? Don’t want to miss breakfast. That’s one thing I’ve learned as well. Always eat as much as you can. You’ll need your strength. And drink lots of water. And when all else fails, talk about music. Everyone loves to talk about music.”
I kept that—and everything else she’d said—in mind as we walked back up the hill.