Chapter 17

“How’s it going, Con?” Luis’s voice down the phone is bright and enquiring. I’ve called my cousin to fill him in on what happened at the bar before he heard it from elsewhere. His voice changes to concern.

“If there’s anything I can do, let me know, okay?”

“Well, maybe don’t penalise me for not paying your invoice yet?” I’m only half joking, but Luis immediately responds.

“Take as long as you want. You know you can do that.”

“Thank you, Wis.” He laughs at the childhood nickname I call him, from back when I wasn’t old enough to pronounce Luis. I knew he probably wouldn’t have a problem. He might be family, but business is business, and I don’t want to take advantage of him. He has a vineyard to maintain, which is expensive and a gamble; one bad harvest can wipe out your whole production for that year. I know he’s had his share of difficulties, especially in the early days .

“And if there’s anything else I can do, just let me know,” he says, and although there isn’t, it feels nice to know he’s there if I need him. My parents have been similarly supportive, not that they can help either, but the moral support is welcome. I did have to listen to a five-minute talk—short by their standards—about how I never come to visit. I gave them my usual promises of soon and rang off before heading down to the bar to check on work for the day.

It’s amazing how easily we can adapt to a new routine, a new normal. It’s only been a few days since I was dragged up here to stay in the mansion. Perhaps dragged isn’t the right word... harassed, press-ganged, bullied . . . Well, whichever it was, I was reluctant not only to leave my bar but also to be so far away from it.

Being here with Rafe and Florencio is both a blessing and a curse. I enjoy their company, of course. Florencio is hilarious and you know exactly what you’re getting with him. Most of it is his witty, sharp self, but we’ve seen an occasional bout of anger and frustration, mostly directed at his family. Rafe is more reserved, and I can’t always tell what’s ticking inside that head of his, except to know that if he’s decided to do something, he puts his all into it. He’s learning Spanish at an incredible rate, and we can now hold short conversations.

But being in close proximity is doing nothing for the images of them that taunt me, even chase me into my dreams, and every day it becomes more difficult. I force the images away, becoming haunted by them every time I close my eyes. They mock me, reminding me it’s unattainable and the dreadful consequences of giving in. I have my bar to show for that.

We tend to meet over breakfast, then I go to visit the repairs to the bar while Florencio and Rafe go to a gallery or museum, as Rafe seems determined to make up for not visiting them before. Then, the afternoon may be for siesta, reading, or talking. One thing we always do is get together for dinner. Florencio has taken on most of the cooking, though Rafe has been assisting him. I can help a little with some prep work, but I’m no cook. I’m able to fend for myself, and I’ve managed for ten years without starving to death, but I’m not good enough to allow other people to eat my creations. I’ve subsisted on the few dishes we serve at the bar, usually too busy to make time for a proper meal. So the gathering together seems strange and yet now, here, the most natural thing in the world.

Sometimes Estrella joins us if she feels up to it. She hasn’t for a couple of days, so it’s a nice surprise when Juana escorts her into the dining room. Juana no longer hovers in the background. Florencio made it clear that if he was cooking, we were all eating it, so she sits at the table with us now.

Dinner tonight is lasagna. Rafe said he wanted to contribute to the cooking, and it was the only dish he could be certain would turn out edible. It’s delicious and I compliment him. Watching the way he responds to praise is certainly not helping my carnal thoughts, but I can’t stop doing it. I’m becoming addicted to seeing him soften in response to my words.

I help to clear the plates away and stack the dishwasher and then we linger at the table with coffee, no one wanting to move too soon. Eventually, Rafe asks Florencio to practise dancing with him. I stay for a while with Estrella. Juana has gone off to tend to some other duties.

Estrella reaches for a packet of cigarettes, I hadn’t seen her smoke before and didn’t know that she did. She lights up a black Sobranie. Russian and decadent, so she must have them imported.

“Do you mind if I join you?” I ask, pulling out my Marlboros.

“If you want.” She shrugs her permission, so I light one up. She takes a long drag, blowing the smoke out slowly and watching me. “Smoking is bad for you.”

“You’re smoking,” I point out uselessly.

“I’m old. It’s only luck and stubbornness that have kept me going. But you’re still young.”

“I don’t feel young.”

“Believe me, when you’re my age, you’ll give anything to be your age again. At your age, I was in my prime. Don’t waste it by being old before your time.”

I shrug and take a drag. Her words don’t help that much.

“You should give it up. It’ll kill you,” she continues.

“And you?”

“I’m already dying. What’s your excuse?”

“Maybe I wish I was.” My voice is flat.

“Do you?” She narrows her eyes at me.

“I did, for a long time.”

“Pah.” She sits back, unimpressed by my melancholy. “It takes courage to find something to live for.”

Her words bounce off me.

“It’s too late for that. My fate has already been decided.”

“Fate be damned. Life’s what you make it,” she scoffs.

“I can’t ignore the signs.”

“What signs? ”

She already knows about my bar, and of course reinforced her nephew’s assertion that I was to stay at the house as long as I needed to. So I told her my other fears, that this had happened just as I thought there might be a brightness in my future—not love of course because lightning never strikes twice—but I didn’t expand on what that brightness was.

“I can’t help feeling that this is the universe’s way of reminding me where my focus should be. Back on the bar, back with Valery.”

I finish speaking, and she does nothing for a minute but slowly smoke, looking at me intently.

“Your ceiling collapsed because of poor building maintenance as you well know, not for any divine purposes. You smoke and I’ll wager you drink too much as well.”

I wince at her words and her look shows she saw me.

“Is that for divine purposes too? Don’t let your own ceiling fall down, Constantin.”

She’s obviously done with me as she rises and refuses my offer of help. I sit there for a long time, finishing my cigarette, not sure what to make of her words. As I come to the end, I instinctively reach for another. I stop and stare at the packet for a minute. Laughter reaches me from the ballroom. Florencio and Rafe. The noise sparks an ember deep in my core. I place the cigarette packet down on the table and rise. I make my way to the ballroom. I feel like playing the piano.