The Andalucian Friend (7 page)

A woman stood up from the table, short, dark hair, dark freckles on olive skin, alert eyes that were curious and happy at the same time — she looked very well.

“Sophie, this is my sister, Inez.”

Sophie held out her hand. Inez ignored it and gave Sophie a hug, kissing the air as their cheeks met. Hector said something in rapid Spanish to Inez. Inez said something as she looked at Sophie.

“She says thank you for looking after her useless brother.”

Sophie was told that Inez had two children who were back home in Madrid with her husband. Inez said she was glad to have met Sophie, patted her arm, and disappeared.

“My brother couldn’t come, he lives in France. He’s a marine biologist and seems happiest when he’s underwater. Not that I blame him,” Hector said.

The man who had made the speech came over and hugged Hector, then turned to Sophie. His bulky frame and large nose seemed even bigger close-up. He had bits of gold all over him, a thick bracelet around his wrist, a chain around his neck, and two heavy signet rings, one on the ring finger of each hand.

“Sophie, allow me to introduce you to Carlos Fuentes, this is his restaurant.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sophie. I saw you before, very briefly when you had lunch here with Hector.”

Carlos spoke with a strong accent.

“I understand you’re a nurse? Maybe you could mend my broken heart one day?”

Carlos put his hand to his chest, smiled at her, and left them.

“Why has he got a broken heart?”

Hector shrugged. “He wants women to see him as a hopeless romantic. He hasn’t got a broken heart, just two broken marriages, and he broke those himself.”

Hector watched Carlos walk away. For a moment Sophie caught a glimpse of something dark in his eyes.

A couple, possibly from the West Indies. He was tall, skinny, and powerful at the same time. She was attractive, with a round ball of hair on her head and a proud posture, and she swayed as she walked. They were walking toward Hector arm in arm. It was as if they owned the whole world, but wanted to share it with everyone else. The tall man patted Hector affectionately on the shoulder and gave him a wrapped parcel. Hector lit up at once, and the man took Sophie’s hand.

“My name’s Thierry, and this my wife, Daphne.”

Sophie introduced herself, and Daphne smiled at her. They talked to Hector, then Thierry and his wife went off, wrapped around each other, to say hello to people they knew.

Someone clapped their hands and asked the guests to take their seats for dinner.

Hector asked Sophie to sit at his table. There was no seating plan, people seemed to know where they were sitting. She found a spare chair and sat down.

Next to her Sophie had a man who appeared rather dry; he was one of the few wearing a suit and tie, a gray suit with a blue, checkered tie. He had short hair, was fairly thin, wore thin-framed glasses, and seemed rather awkward, as though he’d rather not be there. He introduced himself as Ernst Lundwall, then he sat in silence until it became unbearable, perhaps he became aware of it himself.

“How do you know Hector?” he asked.

She talked about the accident, which Ernst was already aware of, how they had met in the hospital and now she was sitting here. She returned the question.

“I help Hector’s publishing company with legal matters. I’m a lawyer by training, most of the time I work as a solicitor and adviser in matters of copyright law.”

His voice was nasal and monotonous. The meal turned into something of a trial for her. Ernst Lundwall replied to all her questions in monosyllables without asking her anything, without picking up any threads or behaving in the usual, functional social way. The man on the other side of her was no help, he couldn’t speak English or Swedish. In the end she gave up and decided to sit in silence.

She concentrated on the food, glancing occasionally at Hector, who was engrossed in a conversation with his sister, who was his dinner partner. Alongside him, on the other side, was a beautiful woman in her thirties, Sophie didn’t know who she was. The woman looked up, caught Sophie’s eye for a moment, then looked away. Sophie realized she was staring.

Sometimes people would get up to go out and smoke. She made use of that, excused herself to Ernst, got up from her chair, and went outside.

She stood alone outside the entrance to the restaurant, smoking. She felt slightly drunk after a few glasses of Champagne, and the cigarette tasted good. The door opened behind her and Aron came out, followed by two men.

“Hello, Sophie.”

“Hello, Aron.”

He looked around. One man went down the street to the left, the other went right. Aron turned to her.

“Can I ask you to go in for a moment?”

Sophie was taken aback, but his attitude implied that the question was completely natural.

“Of course.”

A car was coming up the street. The man who had gone right waved to Aron. Aron took a couple of steps out onto the street. The car came closer. Sophie went in.

During her cigarette break a vague sense of chaos had descended on the party. Everyone had changed places and was sitting and talking over coffee and liqueurs. Someone else was sitting in her chair at Hector’s table. She found a spare place at another table, and it wasn’t long before Ernst Lundwall came and sat down beside her.

“They took our places!”

He seemed upset. The front door opened and a short-haired, muscular man came in. He surveyed the room quickly, then an elderly, well-dressed man with white hair and a deep suntan followed him inside, followed lastly by Aron, who locked the door behind him. Hector stood up, he looked surprised, almost bewildered. The elderly man made his way over to him and the two of them embraced.

“Guzman el Bueno!” someone in the room cried, and everyone began clapping their hands.

Sophie saw Hector and his father exchange a few words as they patted each other on the cheek. A waitress helped Adalberto Guzman to take off his coat, chairs were moved, people changed places, and Adalberto sat down next to his son. They immediately fell into conversation. Adalberto held Hector’s hand in his the whole time.

Ernst Lundwall had suddenly gotten drunk. He was more talkative than before, telling Sophie what music he listened to when he was younger, and what music he chose to listen to now. Sophie tried to look interested but she kept glancing over at Hector and his father. There was something truly joyous, intense about them.

“Excuse me a moment,” she said.

He didn’t hear her, just continued droning on about his uninteresting youth.

“This is my father, Adalberto Guzman.”

Sophie shook his hand while Hector explained who Sophie was to his father in Spanish. Adalberto didn’t let go of her hand, but looked her in the eye and nodded at what Hector was saying.

Hector stood up and offered Sophie his arm. They did a circuit of the room and Hector introduced her to a mixed group of people, and she thought that her walk through the restaurant with Hector’s arm in hers gave the impression that they were in a relationship, as if Hector wanted to show her off to his friends. She pulled away from his arm and went back to her place, where to her delight she couldn’t see Ernst anywhere. Music started playing from the speakers, people got up and started to dance. Hector came over after a while and sat down next to her.

“Do I scare you?”

She shook her head. He looked out over the dance floor.

“I didn’t mean anything by introducing you to my friends.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said.

He took her hand in his. “Is this OK?”

She nodded.

They stayed there holding each other’s hands, watching the dancers. His hand was large and warm. It felt good to hold it.

Toward two o’clock in the morning the guests began to leave, and half an hour later the music was turned down and there were just a dozen or so people left in the room, most of them gathered around one table. Hector, Adalberto, Inez, Aron, and Leszek — the short-haired man who had arrived with Adalberto, as well as Thierry and Daphne. And, beside Hector, the beautiful woman. Sophie was sitting next to Aron and had been chatting to him about nothing much. Then she had started talking to the short-haired Pole, Leszek. She looked at the people around the table. She saw Inez talking to Adalberto — she looked like a child who had decided to be cross with her father, while Adalberto looked almost pained, like a father who didn’t want his daughter to be cross with him. Thierry and Daphne were huddled together. She looked at Hector. He wasn’t talking to the woman beside him, he had only exchanged a few words with her all evening. Sophie realized she was staring at her again. There was something chilly about the woman, something chilly and beautiful, not chilly and cold, but almost sober and sensitive. She seemed sad, introverted, without being shy. But above all there was something grand about her, beautiful was too small a word. Sophie felt a pang of envy.

She bumped into her in the bathroom, perhaps she had followed her. They stood next to each other, inspecting their faces in the mirrors above the two washbasins. The woman was touching up her makeup.

“My name’s Sonya,” she said quietly.

“Sophie.”

Sonya left the bathroom.

When Sophie came out she was met with music and dancing again. Everyone who had been sitting around the table was now dancing energetically. A young waiter came over to her with a tray. She saw a load of white pills.

“Please, help yourself,” Hector said behind her.

“What is it?”

“Ecstasy. I’ve taken one of these every birthday since I was thirty. It won’t kill you.”

She hesitated, looked at the happy guests, looked at Hector.

“Have you taken one tonight?”

He nodded. “Just now.”

“Can you feel anything?”

He stared into the middle distance, searching his emotions to see if anything had changed.

“It probably hasn’t had time to work yet … I think. But I’m not sure,” he said with a wide smile.

Sophie took a pill and swallowed it.

She discovered that
she loved dancing more than anything, that what had seemed like an unremarkable restaurant was one of the most beautiful places she had ever been, so beautiful in its exquisite furnishings. Time kept twisting on its axis and suddenly they were all sitting at the table again, the music was quieter now, like the most perfect backdrop.

Sophie looked on. The others around the table were talking and laughing in turn, smoking and drinking. It seemed that every subject of conversation was a link that bound everything together in a far greater context. Inez leaned over and started talking to her. Hector interpreted as best he could, but he and Inez kept bursting out laughing in Spanish. Sonya wasn’t laughing, she just smiled — a gentle smile that settled over her beautiful face, as if she was finding everything agreeable for a while, as if she had chosen to enjoy the moment instead of giggling. Hector was acting with boyish confusion; he was having a great time, she could see that, everyone was. Adalberto had become a child, chattering away in a Spanish that no one seemed to understand but which everyone found funny. Daphne and Thierry seemed even more in love now, sitting closely entwined, holding each other tight. Sophie felt as if the whole world were perfectly composed and comprehensible.

At half past three in the morning she left the restaurant, she didn’t really want to go home but realized the party would carry on long into the following day.

Hector followed her out to her taxi and opened the door for her.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Thank
you
,” he said.

She leaned forward and let him kiss her. His lips were softer than she had imagined. There was something very careful about him. He slid out of the kiss.

She couldn’t sleep
when she got home, so sat on the veranda instead, listening to the birds singing to her, breathing in the magical smells of the early morning and absorbing all the beauty before her. The fresh, dark, early-morning green of the lawn, the dense foliage of the trees, the interconnectedness of the whole. She knew she was high, but didn’t feel at all guilty.

She asked herself why she had so suddenly dropped her guard, and why she had willfully crossed so many boundaries in her life recently with such an intense inward smile.