"Señorita Alarcón. We have to stop meeting like this."
Alicia fought a smile that threatened to curve her lips when she heard the familiar voice behind her. She didn't turn around, instead, she rummaged in her bag and slipped the cigarette tin out, the one Julio gave her when he was supposed to leave the hotel with his sister and never come back.
He didn't leave, but she didn't stop smoking either.
She was still convinced it's a bad habit, though it doesn't stop her from taking two cigarettes out the tin without ever taking her eyes off the distant lights of the stars that dimly lit the city of San Sebastian, slipping one stick between her lips and holding the other in her outstretched hand for her companion.
He didn't say anything, but he took the cigarette out of her hand all the same and the sound of the match strike and rush of wind against the fire was an answer enough for her.
With a practiced ease, she trained her eyes on the stars while he lit her cigarette first before doing the same to his—
"Do you see any constellations, señorita?"
She tilted her head up, taking one deep breath before blowing off the steady plume of smoke, fully aware that he was watching her with a clenched jaw.
"Just the one," she trailed her finger against the stars, mapping the familiar constellation even if only in her eyes. "El dragón."[1]
"Que fortunado,"[2] he murmured quietly, only loud enough for her to hear, but she knew he couldn't keep the smile out of his voice.
"¿Por qué?"[3]
He leaned down to her ear, his lips had brushed accidentally against her skin, to whisper conspiratorially. "Because it's the only one I know, Señorita Alarcón."
"You're wrong."
He laughed, shooting her a cheeky smile. "Wrong about what exactly is the only constellation I know?"
"No. You called me Señorita Alarcón. I haven't been called that name in five years," she stretched her left hand to the side and she would have been lying if she said she didn't feel electricity running down through her skin when he gently took her hand by the fingers to examine the ring. "I'm married."
"Claro que si,"[4] he raised her hand to his lips before stepping back—it was the smallest gesture, but the distance felt like a chasm or oceans between and she wished it didn't exist. "After all, the night we met was when your mother announced your engagement, wasn't it?"
Memories of that night came rushing back, the night that her engagement was announced.
It felt like an entire lifetime ago. Things had been simpler before that night began and ended.
"So, what should I call you now? I suppose you're the wife of that hotel director now, yes?" His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth, "Orquía, was it?"
"Murquía, actually, though it's really Vera Celande—" she breathed in sharply, "—it's a long story."
"Well, I have time."
She took one long drag from the cigarette, watching as the tip glowed red and turned into ash. It had been long and difficult, but if it meant becoming free to love who she chose, if it meant having a real chance at a future with Julio, she'd do everything again in a heartbeat.
"But I don't," she twisted her back to check the party. It was still in full swing, the musicians playing dancing music as the guests entertained themselves to a waltz. "After the party, I have to get home to my son—he couldn't sleep without a bedtime story, you know."
"Well, if that's the case, we shouldn't keep your son waiting," smoke trickled out of his mouth and she couldn't help the desire that she wanted to smoke together for real, "what should I call you, then?"
"Señora Olmedo."
"Olmedo. Is he some sort of hotel director as well? Or perhaps a blue blooded noble?" Then, he laughed as if remembering something. "You know, it's funny, that term 'blue blood'. I've heard someone ask if the nobility actually had sangre azul—"[5]
She cleared her throat to cut him off before he rambled. "My husband is a partner in the automobile sales and repair shop in town."
She had teased Julio endlessly—she couldn't count the number of times the car engine sputtered on him when they were off chasing after their next clue left and right, from Llanes to Cisnero.
But he always had a talent with his hands and he was a better car mechanic than driver. When he helped fix a broken down Italian car that no one could make heads or tails of, the owner (an Englishman) decided to take him on as a partner in an automobile sales and repair shop—Talbot y Olmedo Motores—and even though they only began selling second hand last year, business had been good and they were looking into manufacturing already.
"Señora Olmedo," the words rolled off his tongue, sounding both familiar and foreign at the same time. But in the end, when she chanced a look towards his direction, she noticed a small smile that played on the ends of his lips, "it suits you."
"Gracias… supongo."[6]
He gave her a flustered sound, and if she would turn to look at him, she knew he would be red in the face. "No, it's just… I mean, your husband must be the luckiest man in the entire world, Senora Olmedo."
She felt warm inside, as involuntarily and natural as breathing air. "I'm the lucky one, actually."
The serious confession was a stark contrast from the teasing banter they exchanged the whole time and she meant every word of it. She hoped that he understood that. She hoped her husband knew that, hoped that Julio knew every minute and every second of every day.
The man choked a bit, somewhat in a loss, but he kept trailing his hand against the stone railing, running the pad of his finger against the intricate molding.
"I have to disagree, Señora Olmedo."
"Why?"
He turned around and waved at the hotel, letting his eyes roam the façade of the new building, a luxury hotel called the Maria Cristina[7], the pride and crown jewel of San Sebastian.
It was the inauguration night and because no matter how much distance she put between her and Cantaloa, she could never outrun her past.
When the Sociedad de Fomento de San Sebastian, S.A.[8] learned that a daughter of Don Carlos Alarcón and Doña Teresa Aldecoa of the Cantaloa Gran Hotel was living nearby, they had extended her an invitation and she could hardly refuse when her attendance was expected by the Regent Queen Maria Cristina and the Marquis Aguilar de Campóo even though she never did like the stuffy ballroom dances when it only reminded her of her marriage to Diego.
"Do you know what architects do, Señora?"
She laughed. She was almost tempted to turn and look at him. "They design buildings, no?"
"Well, yes, but it's not just that," his back leaned against the railing and relaxed as he took in the design of the hotel and made a gesture for her to do the same and admire the hotel with him, "things come and go, Señora Olmedo, people come and go. In a way they're only temporary—but buildings? That's something permanent. Architects could only be so lucky to make something permanent. In a way, to be in a real marriage is like designing a building. It takes some work, maybe some rough patches along the way, but the result? To be part of something so beautiful and permanent? Your husband is truly the luckiest man alive."
It wasn't lost on her that he wasn't looking at the building anymore, but at her instead.
"Is that why you became an architect? To build something permanent?"
He laughed. "No," he said playfully, "it's because I wanted to impress a beautiful girl who I couldn't possibly deserve. She still is, actually."
"Still what?"
"Still so beautiful and still someone who deserves more."
"I don't think that matters," the cold wind whistled as it blew a cool breeze on the terrace. Her cheeks flushed warm and red, but not because of the wind, "beauty fades."
He shook his head. "Not your beauty, Alicia. Nunca[9]. You're as beautiful as the night I met you, if not even more—hotel directors, architects, or even princes and kings, they will always fall short of deserving you."
"Well, maybe I don't need hotel directors, architects, or royalty. Maybe all I need is a... ah, a camarero."[10]
"A waiter?" He choked on his laughter. "You would rather smoke with a waiter?"
She took one last long drag from the cigarette before putting out the embers against the rail. Through the glass, the party was already beginning to die down—several of the guests already left the dancefloor and the host, the president of the development society, began his closing speech for the night.
"Si… siempre."[11] She faced him, finally, blowing that smoke just right over his right shoulder. "In fact, I think I want to smoke with a waiter right now."
"What, are you tired of smoking with me already?"
"Yes," she took his hand and lead him away from the windows and to a more shadowy part of the balcony where there was no one but them, where they could only feel each other in the dark, "but I still want to smoke for real, Señor Molins."
Julio laughed as she played with the lapels of his suit, tracing the fine embroidery of his white tie that reminded her of the night she smoked with Señor Molins. Little did she know, her husband had the same train of thought. She had half a mind to go home already to write Maite and Andrés a thank you note for sending the white tie on such short notice—she was going to be busy the whole day tomorrow with a music class that she even made a point of asking her maid to deliver the letter tonight after they returned home from the party.
She should really go home to get a start on things… but she was also very tempted to just do it tomorrow, busy schedule be damned.
He leaned down, his lips now against her smile, her hands pulling closer and closer even if there wasn't any distance between them anymore.
"Alicia," he moaned her name reverently like a prayer and worship against her skin when he moved his lips to her neck.
"Julio."
She would definitely write that thank you note tomorrow—after all, she was still busy smoking.
Footnotes for the odd Spanish words that I used:
1The dragon
2How lucky
3Why
4Of course
5Blue blood
6Thank you... I guess
7The Maria Cristina Hotel (a real hotel in San Sebastian that opened in 1912)
8Development Society of San Sebastian (additionally, it's also a real organization)
9Never
10Waiter
11Yes... always