Excerpt from "Toreador"

When I got home I was tempted to go back to Abuela’s study to keep reading her letters, but I was tired so I ended up napping in front of the TV for about an hour. I woke up groggy and went to splash cold water on my face and brush my long dirty blonde hair. I applied a little make-up, locked the front door and headed for Armiñan road. The bar was much more crowded that it had been the night before. Jaime’s entire cuadrilla were there with their assorted friends and family members, as well as regular customers and tourists. It took me a moment to spot Raquel. She was leaning into Jaime who was sitting on a bar stool beside her at the bar. They were both listening intently to someone who had his back to me, and as I got a little closer I realized it was Fernando. My heart fluttered a little in my chest and for a second I hesitated in my stride although I was not entirely sure why.

Raquel saw me first, of course, and greeted me cheerfully.

“There you are!” she said. Fernando turned and smiled at me, and I noticed immediately that the smile seemed strained and did not reach his eyes.

“Good evening,” he said.

“Good evening,” I answered. Then I turned to Jaime and said, because I had not had a chance to do so before:

“I really enjoyed watching you this afternoon. You must be exhausted.”

“Too keyed up to feel tired,” he answered with a grin. “I drew good bulls and feel very fortunate today.”

Fernando shook his head and said: “I’m sorry I missed it.”

He didn’t explain, however, why he had. He also made no mention of Javier and I having spoken. I had no way of knowing if he had even heard about it. I sort of hoped that he hadn’t. He now asked me what I would like to drink and within seconds, it seemed, I had a vodka lemon in my hand. I took a long draught thankfully.

“So tell me what you thought of your first corrida,” Fernando said, his full attention on my face.

“Well, I have to be honest and say that I was prepared to hate it, but actually, I thought it was rather beautiful.” I answered, trying not to be disconcerted by his proximity and by his dark, dark eyes.

“What in particular did you find beautiful?” he asked.

“The bulls are breath-taking,” I said. “The color of the sand; the movements of the torero, his suit of lights – I was very moved by the corrida as a whole. I really had no idea how many rituals it involved…”

Fernando smiled at me, and this time it reached his eyes and they crinkled enchantingly.

“I’m not really finding the right words,” I smiled too. “I feel quite naïve amongst all of you.”

“You will find more words as you become more familiar with the art,” Fernando said. “You were lucky to see such a good corrida. If you had seen a bad one you would have almost certainly had a different opinion of our fiesta nacional.”

“What would a bad corrida look like?” I asked, curious.

“Bulls that don’t charge; bulls that charge with their horns so low they stick them in the sand and do somersaults. And toreros who don’t know what to do with them. It can be an unpleasant sight, believe me. The more cowardly a bull is, the more he makes the corrida look like a one-sided affair. The beauty of a good corrida lies in the rapport between man and bull.”

I smiled, enjoying listening to his voice as well as the words he spoke.

“Jaime tells me you just lost your grandmother. I am very sorry. You must feel her loss deeply.”

“Thank you, I do.” I said, feeling my eyes well up at his sympathetic tone.

“And you also just got your degree?” he went on, obviously wishing to change the subject for my sake.

“Yes, in journalism.” I was absurdly pleased that they had been talking about me.

“Well, just promise me you won’t work for the prensa rosa,” Fernando said a trifle bitterly. The so-called “pink press” was the name given to the gossip magazines in Spain.

I regarded him sympathetically.

“It must be hard, not being able to draw breath without all those cameras on you all the time.”

“It can become claustrophobic and inhibiting at times, yes,” he agreed.

Fernando studied my face for a moment. I thought he was going to say something else but in the end he made no comment. Instead he signaled to the barman for two more drinks. Although the bar was packed and Raquel and Jaime were sitting a few feet from us, it seemed like we were alone, cocooned as we were in our conversation.

“I am participating in a bullfight at the Real Maestranza in Seville next weekend,” Fernando said, handing me my drink. “Do you think you would like to come? As my guest?”

I almost choked on the sip of vodka lemon I was just taking, so I took a moment to answer.

“I would really enjoy that,” I finally managed, my smile a little wider than I would have liked.

“Great. That’s settled, then. I will give Jaime tickets for the three of you.”

At this moment, somewhat to my dismay, Javier joined us. He mumbled a “good evening” in my direction and then looked at Francisco.

“Ah, Javier,” Fernando said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’d like you to meet Sofia. Sofia, this is Javier Cruz, my banderillero de confianza, my right hand man. What’s with the grave expression, hombre?”

Javier shrugged and made no allusion to the fact that we had met the day before. Instead, he said:

“A word, maestro?”

To my satisfaction Fernando looked a little irritated.

“Can’t it wait?” he said.

“Not really, maestro,” Javier answered.

Fernando sighed a little and turned to me.

“Excuse me one moment, please.”

“Of course,” I said.

Fernando and Javier headed outside and I lost sight of them.

“How is it going?” Raquel asked me as soon as they were out of earshot.

I smiled and was about to make a funny remark at my own expense when I realized that Jaime was sitting right next to Raquel and was all ears. So instead I said:

“Pretty great. How about you?”

Raquel smile widened and she squeezed Jaime’s hand.

“It’s been a wonderful day and now it’s a fabulous night.”

Jaime laughed.

“That’s the truth. Where’s Fernando?”

“He went to talk with Javier a moment,” I told him.

Jaime’s face clouded over for a second but returned to normal so quickly that I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it.

“Fernando is fighting in Seville next weekend,” he said.

“I know,” I beamed. “He’s invited me.”

“That’s wonderful!” Raquel said, unable to hide her delight. “We can all go together!”

“That’s what he suggested,” I agreed. I glanced towards the door but he was still outside.

“What exactly is a banderillero de confianza, anyway?” I asked Jaime and Raquel, lowering my voice a little. I still felt like such a novice amongst all these professionals and aficionados.

“He’s the head banderillero – usually the one who has been with the matador the longest,” Jaime explained. “Most matadors are very close to their whole cuadrilla and to their apoderado.”

I nodded and asked: “What’s an apoderado?”

“A manager. He organizes all the fights and everything. Fernando’s apoderado is his uncle, Luis.”

Raquel laughed.

“Sofia is getting a crash course in bullfighting,” she said.

Jaime and I joined in her laughter.

“It’s true,” I said. “And here I was, without ever haivng had any interest.”

“What changed?” a low voice beside me said. I turned to see that Fernando had rejoined us. I blushed immediately and Raquel came to my rescue.

“It’s my fault for dating a torero,” she said and batted her eyelashes playfully at Jaime.

We all laughed but I could see that Fernando had come back in a different mood than he had been in before he left. He seemed preoccupied although I could see he was making an effort to hide it.

The next hour or so passed in a pleasant blur of conversation between the four us, with frequent interruptions from friends of both Jaime and Fernando. We dined on tapas again and then people started to drift off in small groups, heading home to bed. It had been a long day for everyone. And even though we Spaniards never like to let the day end, always trying to prolong it as much as possible, the time had come to take leave of this day. I said good night to Raquel and Jaime and Raquel and I gave each other a quick hug.

“Call me tomorrow,” she said in my ear. “When you get up – I can come over and keep you company.”

Fernando was waiting by the door for me and when I wished him good night, he moved his body very close to mine to kiss my cheeks, a hand on each arm. My body filled with warmth from the touch of his hands and I was overcome by a desire just lean my head on his chest and let his arms envelop me.

“Buenas noches,” he said.

I felt dizzy for an instant and it took me a moment to pull myself together. Suddenly Javier’s voice cut through the silence.

“Are you coming, Fernando?” he said from inside the car waiting by the curb.

“Can we give you a lift?” Fernando offered.

“I live very close by,” I answered, not wanting to lose sight of him but also feeling silly to have them drive me such a short distance.

“No matter,” he said. “Let us drive you.”

He opened the door for me and I slid in the back seat. Javier turned and gave me tight smile as Fernando took his place beside him in the passenger seat. I gave them the address and we were there in less than five minutes. Fernando got out and opened the door for me again, and once more I got to enjoy the feel of his hands on my arms, his lips on my cheeks.

“I hope to see you again soon,” he said, his breath hot in my ear.

I made my way to the bedroom on shaky legs, pulled off my clothes and fell naked into bed. I was asleep almost instantly, Fernando’s voice still in my head.