Meet Me Under The Ombu Tree (29 page)

Roberto was a couple of years older than Santi and considered himself the biggest catch since Rhett Butler. He swaggered about the farm as if he owned the place, and to top it all he drove a flashy car imported from Germany. The importation duties were so vast it was virtually impossible to bring over such a car, but Roberto’s father had managed it. He hated Roberto Lobito. Why had he targeted his Sofia?

It was hot and sticky by the time he got out of bed. His excitement at being back at Santa Catalina had dissipated and now all that remained was the bitter taste of last night’s revelation. He dragged himself out onto the terrace to find Maria having breakfast in the sun. He casually asked her how long Sofia had

been seeing Roberto, pretending that he thought it a perfect match.

They make a very good-looking couple - a polo-playing couple. I doubt there are many men who can boast about that,’ he said, his throat constricting with inner rage.

Maria, insensitive to her brother’s true feelings, said that they were really keen on each other. In fact, they had spent most weekends together at Santa Catalina for the last eight months. A real item. Santi changed the subject; he couldn’t bear to listen to it. It made him feel like throwing up. Put him off his breakfast.

He decided to go and chat to Jose, find out how the ponies were. Perhaps take one out for a practice. Anything rather than find Sofia and Roberto together. He could just see them laughing and God forbid - kissing. He felt lower than he had ever felt. He wanted to return to America, run away from a jealousy he was incapable of defining.

Chatting to Jose distracted him momentarily, but once he was on a pony, galloping around the field after the white ball, Santi’s thoughts once more returned to Sofia. He hit the ball with great force, each time imagining it to be the head of Roberto Lobito. But, as hard as he hit it, he was unable to crack it.

After a while he noticed he was being watched. Sofia was sitting on the fence, quietly observing him. He tried to ignore her and managed to do so for a while. But finally he cantered up to her, his heart beating fast with adrenaline. He would tell her exactly what he thought of her Roberto Lobito.

She smiled as he approached. A nervous smile. She knew he was angry and she had spent all night in the stifling humidity trying to work out the reason why. She swallowed anxiously as he neared her, trying to repress the churning feeling that had turned her belly to liquid.

‘Hold,’
she said, then waited for him to speak.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked coldly without dismounting. His pony snorted in the heat and shook his head.

‘Watching you.’

‘Why?’

She sighed and looked hurt. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked miserably.

‘Nothing. Why, should there be anything the matter?’ His pony shuffled, then snorted again with impatience. He sat back in the saddle, looking down at her loftily.

‘Don’t play games with me, Santi. We know each other too well for that.’

‘Who’s playing games? I’m just pissed off, that’s all.’

‘What have I done?’ she asked. He clicked his tongue as if to say, Come on, now who’s playing games. ‘You’re upset that I’m dating Roberto Lobito?’ she volunteered.

‘Why would I care?’ His expression hardened at the mention of Lobito’s name.

‘Because you do care.’

‘What’s it got to do with me who you date?’

‘Well, it seems to have a lot to do with you,’ she replied. Then, exasperated, she hopped down from the fence. ‘You’re right. It’s got nothing to do with you,’ she said, and shrugged her shoulders as if she no longer cared.

Suddenly Santi dismounted and grabbed her by the arm as she began to walk away. Dropping the reins of his pony he pushed her up against the tree, took her neck in one hand and pressed his hot lips to hers. It all happened so fast that when he pulled away, mumbling an apology, she wondered if it had, in fact, happened at all. She wanted to tell him that it was okay. She wanted more than anything for him to kiss her again.

As he mounted his pony she held the reins for a moment to stop him galloping off and said in a trembling voice, ‘Every time Roberto kisses me I imagine it’s you.’ He looked down at her, his face no longer angry, just anxious. He shook his head, wishing that he hadn’t heard her.

‘D/os, I don’t know why I did that!’ he said and cantered off.

Sofia was left at the fence like a stunned rabbit. Rooted to the spot she watched him gallop off into the middle of the field without looking back. Unconvinced that he had actually kissed her she traced her lips with a shaking finger. They were still wet and still quivering. Her belly fluttered even more and her legs felt light as if they belonged to someone else. She wanted to run after him, but she didn’t dare. Santi had kissed her. She had dreamed of this moment, except that in her dreams it had lasted a lot longer. But it was something. It was a start. When she was finally able to walk away she skipped unsteadily through the trees with a heart brimming with hope. Santi was jealous of Roberto Lobito. She laughed happily, unable to believe it was real and that she wasn’t dreaming. Could it be possible that Santi might love her back? She didn’t know for sure, but what she did know was that she had to break it off with Roberto as soon as possible.

When Sofia called Roberto Lobito at his
estancia
, La Paz, and told him that

she couldn’t be his girlfriend any more there was a heavy silence while her words sunk in. He had never,
ever
been chucked before. He asked her if she was all right, she couldn’t possibly be well. She replied frostily that she was fine. It was over.

‘You’re making a huge mistake,’ he said. ‘Just remember what I say. When you come to your senses and want me back, I won’t have you. Do you understand? I won’t take you back.’

‘Good,’ she replied, and hung up.

Sofia thought that by finishing with Roberto Lobito she would make Santi happy. Yet he wasn’t happy. He still ignored her and it seemed that their friendship was gone for ever. What about the kiss? Had he forgotten? She hadn’t. Whenever she closed her eyes she felt his lips on hers. She couldn’t confide in Maria. She couldn’t let her know how she felt. So she complained to Soledad. Soledad was always there for her. Not that her advice was of any use, but she always gave Sofia her full attention, listening with an expression of sympathy and adoration. Sofia told her that he was ignoring her. Not including her like he used to. She sobbed into her maid’s spongy bosom that she had lost her best friend in the whole world. Soledad rocked her gently in her arms and told her that boys of Santi’s age wanted to hang out with other boys or girls they were in love with. As Sofia fell into neither category, she must be patient. ‘He’ll come back when he’s grown up a bit,’ she promised. ‘Don’t you worry,
gorda,
you’ll find another boyfriend and then you won’t care at all about Señor Santiago.’

Fernando was furious at this latest turn of events. How could Sofia finish with Roberto Lobito? Roberto was his closest friend. If she had ruined his friendship he would never forgive her. Didn’t she realize that every woman who met him wanted him? Did she realise what she was giving up? Selfish bitch. She was only thinking of herself, as usual.

Fernando made a point of inviting Roberto Lobito to the farm at every possible opportunity for two reasons. One, because he worried that Sofia might have put him off coming at all, or worse put him off being friends with Fernando. Two, because it amused him to watch Sofia squirm uncomfortably when she saw him about the place - call it revenge on behalf of his friend. In fact, he maliciously flaunted Roberto around the
campo,
intent on showing Sofia what she was missing. She had slighted Roberto, therefore she had indirectly slighted him. Roberto didn’t resist and took advantage of Fernando’s

loyalty by making a point of flirting outrageously in front of her as if to show her that he didn’t care for her any more. He did care.

Sofia found his antics tiresome and retreated into her own world, taking a pony out for rides, or going for long solitary walks across the
pampa.
Maria followed her friend around when she allowed it, aware that there was something she wasn’t telling her. This saddened Maria who tried desperately to ingratiate herself with her cousin, smiling brightly when inside she felt heavy and excluded. Sofia had sulked in the past but never for too long. Maria had always been her accomplice, her ally against everyone else. Now Sofia seemed to want to be alone.

At first, Santi found it easier not to be around Sofia. Embarrassed that he had allowed his impulses to flare out of control he resolved that it was better not to see her until he had managed to convince himself that he was sick or something - anything rather than in love with Sofia. He couldn’t be in love with Sofia. It was like being in love with Maria. Incestuous and wrong; of that he was certain. When he remembered the kiss, he cringed inwardly until his stomach scrambled into a thick knot. ‘Did I really kiss her?’ he asked himself during the torturous nights that followed. ‘God, what was I thinking? What

must she think of me?’

He groaned, hoping that by ignoring the situation it would go away. He convinced himself that she was too young to know her mind. He should be more responsible. After all, she looked up to him and admired him. He knew that. He was older than her and knew the consequences of such a liaison. He told himself over and over to grow up and get over it.

He hung about with the boys, moving around the farm in a pack like the dogs, searching for some novelty or other. Yet, he spent the whole time expecting to see Sofia at the pool or on the tennis court, only to find himself fighting his disappointment. It was easier when she was around. At least he knew where she was. He knew they couldn’t be lovers. Their families would never allow it. He could imagine the lecture from his father. The one that started, ‘You have a bright future . . .’ And he could see his mother’s appalled expression in his mind’s eye. But his body ached for Sofia in spite of his reasoning, wearing him down little by little. Finally he could fight no longer. He had to talk to her. He had to explain himself. He had to tell her that his kiss had been no more than a moment of madness. He’d tell her he thought she was someone else -anything rather than tell her the truth, that he was tormented by his growing

love for her and saw no possibility of it abating.

Maria was on the terrace playing with Panchito and one of his little friends from the farm when Santi asked her whether she had seen Sofia. She said she hadn’t a clue where Sofia was and grumbled that she had grown into a stranger these past few days. Chiquita emerged from the house with a basket of toys and told Santi to go and make up with Sofia.

‘But we haven’t had a fight,’ he protested. His mother gave him a look as if to say, ‘Don’t think I’m a fool.’

‘You’ve ignored her ever since you got back, and she was so excited about seeing you. Maybe she’s upset because of Roberto Lobito. Do go and sort it out, Santi.’ Maria took the basket from her mother and emptied its contents onto the tiles. Panchito squealed in delight.

Santi found Sofia engrossed in a book under the ombu. Her pony was snoozing in the shade. It was very humid. Looking up at the sky he could see black clouds making their way in over the horizon. When she heard him approach she put her book down and looked up at him.

‘I thought I’d find you here,’ he said.

‘What do you want?’ she asked aggressively and then wished she hadn’t

sounded so angry.

‘I came to talk.’

‘What about?’

‘Well, we can’t go on like this, can we?’ he said, sitting down beside her.

‘I suppose not.’

They sat in silence for a while. Sofia remembered his kiss and wished he would kiss her again.

‘The other day ...’ she began.

‘I know,’ he interrupted, trying to find the words that he had rehearsed but they eluded him.

‘I wanted you to.’

‘You said,’ he replied, feeling the sweat collect in feverish beads on his forehead.

‘So why did you ride off like that?’

‘Because, Chofi, it can never be. We’re cousins - first cousins. It’s too close. What would our parents say?’ He placed his head in his hands. He despised himself for his weakness. Why couldn’t he just tell her, decisively, that he didn’t feel anything more than brotherly affection for her and that his actions

had been a big mistake?

‘Who cares what they say? I never have. Who’d tell them anyway?’ she said brightly. Suddenly the impossible seemed quite possible. He had said they shouldn’t, not that he didn’t want to. She put her arm around him and rested her head on his shoulder. ‘Santi, I have loved you for so long.’ She sighed happily. Those words, so often said silently in her head, were now uttered from the depth of her soul. He pulled his head out of his hands and put both arms around her, nestling his face in her hair. They sat a while, pressed tightly together, listening to the other’s breathing, wondering where to go from there.

‘I’ve tried to convince myself that I don’t care for you,’ he said at last, feeling lighter with the unburdening of his conscience.

‘But you do care,’ she said joyfully.

‘Unfortunately I do, Chofi,’ he said, playing with her plait. ‘I thought of you so much while I was away.’