II

2013

––––––––

Y

es, everything started that autumn afternoon. What happens is, things became complicated with the time. Or well, regular actually. At first, I blamed the fact he worked with my parents. I don’t know, maybe he would feel ashamed because he was employed by my parents. Later, I wonder if it was because of the age difference, although I quickly dismissed it in fact, considering that he was not even ten years older than me, it was just a little difference –I was going to be eighteen on april twenty eight and he was going to be twenty seven on march seventeen (and go figured how hard it was to know his birthday...) so, he was ten years older than me only during that month-. Next, I thought of my unconsidered mother who felt she had to find him a girlfriend and, it seems I was not a proper candidate as she never considered me, I have never understood why. Jorge ended getting married and having a creature... a child I mean, a baby girl few years later.

Meanwhile, I dedicated myself to guarantee every boy a dated were not the right ones. I was crossing them out of the list mostly...

The pictures of my folder changed with the time from Leonardio Di Caprio to Say no to war, my golden plated earings changed to tongue piercings, nose and lip ring; my short skirts and high hills by sixties hippie clothes. Until I suddenly came back to dress suit and hills, no piercings anywhere and admiring Leonardo Di Caprio’s new look in the new film adaptation of The Great Gatsby. Significant regression in barely thirteen years.

But Jorge was always there. Gently saying hi when I walked by in the law firm. At the beginning, he slightly raised his sight from his table then; he timidly said hi if we crossed our faces in the street. But the way he treated me was always the same, straight but distant.

I didn’t follow my parents’ steps –that turned into a major problem those days-. I studied journalism and when I got my degree I started working in several local news. Short time ago, I got a job in Press2, an international communication agency which had branches in Salamanca, Madrid, Barcelona and Sevilla. But what I wanted was to go far, so far. Even better if it was outside Spain. Although, if I had to stand on boring jobs like been freelance in the political page to achieve it, then I had to be patiente.

A new corruption scheme showed up a couple of days ago; Himalaya issue and today, the lawyer of one of the corrupted involved –suspected- was going to make an apeareance at court. That the innocence of his client had to be respected, that the resolution of the judge was unknown, that his client was not guilty considering he was qualified suspected... Well, you all already know today’s news in the country, why would I bore you with that, we already have the collection of fascinating and incredible reports my agency constantly provide us. I was never attracted by law school, I recognize that.

I thought I could elude law by acquiring some knowledge, but when you criticize something it runs to you like a boomerang so; everyday I was more involved with law since I got this job. And I was urged for help. I ought to write a weekly news summary article to be published every morning. But with my limitated knowledge I would probably mess my head and finish transcribing everything. And who could I call for help? That’s right, mom and dad.

So, here I am, waiting like a yesteryear for one of my parents to assist me at work at some time between now and the doomsday. But the thing is complicated, I have been already half an hour sitting in the reception but none of them had been shown yet. No attention, you hear, my own parents pay no attention to me. Such a burden.

Meanwhile, I try to brush a lock of hair that was messing me up since today morning. Shitty hair, one of these days I’ll cut it like Paula. I can’t even make my hair straight anyway. Few hours later it turns curl and I can’t manage to make it straight again. I have to go to the hair salon to get some lights or something. I look at my fringe indirectly. Light brown, a boring light brown, as boring as the personnel of this firm. I frown in disapproval. Are this split ends? Oh, perfect, now I sound very shallow. This is how extreme boredom transforms your personality.

I am stuck in these meaningful thoughts when I listen to a familiar voice. I raise my face and there is Jorge, standing in front of me, wearing a diplomatic line dark suit, he was putting his cuff links in the right way with that cold but gentle face expression. I look at him and quickly stand up like if something pushes me. Murphy’s Law made by me: if you are going to meet Jorge in a short time, you’ll probably be wearing the oldest jeans and the cheesy t-shirt you had in your closet. “Lau won’t you ever make up?” it feels like my friends are repeting at my ear.

“Hello Laura, did you need something?” he asks peacefully.

I try to focus my eyes on something different from those part gray sideburns which make him appear more than interesting. Why does he have to be so attractive...

“Hello Jorge... I was... waiting for my parents”.

He disregards my almost stuttering and turns a second to the meeting room where it seems my parents are. Looking at me again, he says:

“They are still in the meeting and it seems it’s going to take a while. Is it something I can do for you?”

In that moment my unconscious becomes Paula for few seconds and I imagine myself asking him for help in obsene situations of any kind. My mind gives my body a wrong order and I instantly blush, and I think he noticed that because of the way he frown his forehead, bending a bit his head, trying to understand the reason why I blushed.

“No, I... it was just something with the Himalaya case. The truth is, I require someone who explains me how to resume today’s intervention in less than two hundred and fifty words.”

I try to sound ease and confident, but with Jorge in front of me I have never been able to make it, I won’t start now.

“I can help you if you want, I am aware of the case and I can give you a hand” and he points his office in an instant with a quick glance.

Give me a hand... give me a hand... Shit Paula, get out of my head and let me stay straight.

“Well, I would be greatful because, I am really urged”.

“It is up to you, please” and he allows me to pass inside his office first.

Something I have never managed to understand is how this kind of chivalrous men opens the door to let you in by telling you to go first but, they open the door you have in front of you even when they are behind you. I don’t get it. Somebody explains me.

We got inside his office and he closed the door behind his back. It was a completely steril office, I don’t know how someone can work in a place like that. White walls, black furniture, boring books... It will be no longer fourteen feet square. There are two areas: a working one with a desk and chairs and, another to the left side with a small table, two low seats at both sides and a carpet. An enormous window occupies an entire wall that faces off the street, where I can see a small group of college boys walking by very distracted. No picture, neather a drawing of his daughter, anything personal. I believe I remember there was a family picture on his table, but no anymore. Only two gray and yellow abstract pictures hanging from the walls and a high plant just in the entrance, in the corner at the right side. Those are all of the elements of decoration that composed his office.

He rounds the table and sits at his chair, making a gesture with his hand to ask me to take a sit in one chair which was placed by my side. I try to sit as calm as I can while I breathe slowly to try to hold my nerves, which has been disturbing me since Jorge first talked to me previously.

Why a simple look or just few words from him affects me so hard?

We had been talking about the case like half an hour. He answered every question I shot like if he knew them his entire life and, he was very patiente while he explained every doubt I was taking out to light. He remainded serious and professional. Does this guy never smile in a natural way? He looks tired and tired every day. You know, his job is boring but, my parents said that Jorge is really enthusiast about laws. Then, why did he look so tired?

He finishes explaining the court appearance. As a good student I take notes. We finished and, I start picking my stuffs to go home. I would like to make this moment last longer but I have no damn idea how. Going home would probably be the best I can do considering the lack of knowledge I have on romance and my nerves, which I still can’t completely control, besides; I behave like if I was seventeen again and that is embarrassing.

“Thank you very much for your help Jorge”.

“Your welcome. If you need something else you know you can call me” and he serves me one of his introduction cards.

A Jorge’s introduction card, wow... All this years I have never had one of this. I had his number and not any number but his personal one but, it was because one occasion when he was going to a party with Claudia I had their tickets so he called me. But giving me his card to call him was something different. This is like an invitation to call him whenever a want right? I look at it a couple of seconds, keep it and smile as normal as I am able to express in that moment.

“Thank you, I’ll keep it in mind”.

We both walk to his office outdoor.

“Aren’t you going to wait for your parents?” he asks me to avoid an awkward silent.

“I am out of time, I’ll have to see them in another occasion” plus, as it uses to, my mind changes the code from think to talk: “What happened with Claudia and Noelia’s picture?”

Let me make it straight: Claudia is his wife and Noelia is his daughter. And go figured why I didn’t ask about something more considering we have always limited our conversations around casual topics.

Jorge seems surprised by such personal and direct question.

Earth, swallow me...

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean...” I rushed to excuse myself.

“It doesn’t matter, he assures, it must be kept somewhere when I got the office redecorated. I should look after it again”.

“Oh...” I limitate to answer, trying to presume that I was not hoping him to say that picture? I don’t care at all about Claudia but you do, come to my arms turn wild and make love until next Tuesday. Well then, I left. “Thanks again for everything”.

“It was a pleasure Laura” he says making some kind of nod with his head. He always makes that gesture when we meet or when we say good bye, it is pretty disconcerting. Regularly, men I know move their heads up when they want to say hi but, he has that charm even during a simple greet. Where this guy came from?

I came out of there a little perturb as every time I see Jorge. I am not a teenager anymore; my hormons have balanced very much since our first encounter. Although during these years, I have had several opportunities in which I have found myself speaking at him, I never conceal treating him like Mr nobody. That would be the absinthe, it seems like I hear Marta told me off. I might drank too many shots of absinthe during college and that perhaps damaged somehow my neurons and its synapsis process but, I am sure Jorge is not exactly in my neuronal conections.