HOW COULD I have guessed that Jaime had been looking through my personal papers and knew exactly how much money I had? We have never talked about money: for him it’s taboo, and I have no problem with that. I have nothing to hide, but at the same time, I have not talked to him about my economic situation. The fact is that when the famous episode of the legal seizure of his goods was about to take place, the money Jaime needed was exactly the amount I had in my account. Jaime knew how much I had saved down to the last cent.
After the money crisis, things calmed down, and Jaime went on travelling for his work and for family reasons. I had no savings any more, but between my salary and what he earned, we lived well. Jaime continued to pay our outgoings, and every month he scrupulously gave me the money for the rent. We were living a second honeymoon, and the problem we had faced had only served to bring us closer together, and make our love all the stronger. That was what I thought, at least.
Today I set off for a famous fashion show in Italy, which my firm and I needed to attend. I knew Jaime was very much against the trip, especially following the argument we had over my boss’s supposed intentions towards me. But Jaime did not stop me going. Until now I haven’t given him any reason to feel jealous. I see the world through his eyes, and I live completely and exclusively for him. I’ve left my sordid sexual existence behind, and I no longer have any contact with my men friends.
When we arrived in Milan, a business associate of Harry, my boss, came and took us to our hotel. As we were driving into town, he told us there was a small problem about the rooms. All the hotels in the city were full, and the only thing he had managed to find for us was a large suite that we would have to share. I did not mind sharing a suite, as long as there were two beds in two different rooms. And that seemed to be the case, because when we got to the hotel we found that we could occupy the suite without being in each other’s way at all, apart from sharing the bathroom. It was simply a matter of getting organized.
I told myself I was not even going to mention these arrangements to Jaime, because I knew he wouldn’t understand. I did call him, though, to say I had arrived safely.
‘Which hotel are you in?’ he asked all of a sudden.
‘The Westin Palace. Why?’
‘Just to know. Give me the phone number and the number of your room. I’ll call you, because it’s very expensive. I can see your boss is treating you like a princess: it’s a lovely hotel!’ he said.
I told Harry my boyfriend was about to call back, and warned him not to pick up the phone. I did not want to have to explain why it was Harry who had answered. Fortunately for me, Harry is a wonderful boss who understands these domestic matters perfectly.
A quarter of an hour later, Jaime was on the line.
‘Who had the idea first?’ he asked out of the blue.
‘What idea?’ I had no clue as to what he was talking about, but I feared the worst.
‘Let me put it another way. Who fucked who?’ he said, a sarcastic edge to his voice.
I couldn’t say a word.
‘Do you think I’m stupid? I spoke to the receptionist and asked him to put me through to your boss. By some extraordinary coincidence, he has the same room number as you. I called back, and they confirmed you are sharing a room.’
My heart started pounding. How could I convince him that things were not what they seemed?
‘Jaime, I can explain. The thing is . . .’
‘I don’t want to hear your excuses. I want his version. Put him on!’
‘No, Jaime! The two of us should talk about this. He’s nothing to do with it . . .’
‘Put him on!’
He was shouting so loudly that Harry, who was next to me, understood what was going on and asked me to pass him the phone.
When I heard Jaime shouting at him as well, I was so ashamed I did not know where to put myself. Harry looked at me, then concentrated on what Jaime was saying, only occasionally responding with a ‘yes’. There are not many bosses as understanding and charming as he is . . . I could tell that not only did he understand exactly what the situation was, but that he felt even worse about it than I did. As Jaime went on shouting over the phone, he was calmly smoking a cigar; and when the diatribe was over, he handed me the phone. Jaime wanted to give me precise instructions.
‘Your beloved boss is going to find you another hotel. Once you’ve moved, you are to phone me with the new number and your hotel room. If he is a gentleman, he will find you something, however full the hotels are in Milan. I’ll be waiting for you to call.’
He hung up. My tears started to fall onto the purple carpet of the suite. I tried to stammer out an excuse for what I had put Harry through. He went on chewing on his cigar, then stubbed it out and said to me, ‘Don’t worry. We’ll sort this out right now.’
He made a few calls, and an hour later his associate took me to another hotel, about five hundred metres from the Westin. I did not call Jaime straight away, and by the time I did, he was furious. I told him the hotel phone number and my room number, and a few minutes later he called me back.
‘What did you tell Harry?’ I asked him, just as furious as he was.
‘Just sufficient to make him behave properly. But I’ll have to talk to him face to face when you two get back, so that he never tries anything with you again.’
This made me even more indignant. I didn’t know what to say, but I felt extremely sad. The worst thing was that I felt guilty about what had happened. We spent most of the night on the phone: he talked and talked about his philosophy of life, love, and above all about how much I still had to learn. I listened without saying a word. After we hung up, I found it impossible to get to sleep. I felt so humiliated and so ashamed towards Harry that I burst into tears once more. I was crying because I did not have the guts to tell Jaime how wrong he had been.
I came back to Barcelona on my own: Harry took another flight for England. Jaime came to the airport to fetch me. He was carrying a big bunch of flowers, and he embraced me as though I had just been set free from a kidnapping. He told me how much he loved me, and explained that his behaviour was for my own good. For a long while I felt I could no longer look Harry in the face, because I was so ashamed of what I had put him through.