RED: A Love Story [Featured List]

Part 1: White 15 - Afterhours

Not now.

With reluctance, Marco straightened up and helped Marisa sit. He held her hands.

"What is it?" She stared at him, apprehensive.

"Later we'll continue this..." His smile emerged, hovered for an instant and faded. "But we need to talk because it's no good to leave things pending. I've learned that the hard way and I don't want to make the same mistake." He squeezed Marisa's hand. "I owe you an apology. I shouldn't have allowed anger to take over me. But in that moment I was in no condition to talk. Without realizing, you touched a wound. I'm sorry, Mari. I didn't mean to hurt you. I looked for you everywhere... I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you."

"It didn't seem that way."

Noticing Marisa's wounded expression, Marco cocked his head as his eyebrows joined. He stroked her face.

"Where did that come from, Mari? I stood across that bar like an idiot only to make sure you'd be okay... I thought about what you said and understand your suspicion. But Camila means nothing to me. I don't know how she got my email. At first I replied to be polite, then I ignored her and she stopped emailing. Yesterday, for some reason, Camila left a box of chocolate in my pigeonhole along with a card for the Education National Day. It was pathetic. I made up an excuse and returned it this morning."

"She was bragging about it yesterday and I thought she'd made that up. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why would I tell you something that has no relevance whatsoever? To be perfectly honest, I had forgotten all about it."

Marisa told him about the email Camila had sent that evening, and Marco looked surprised. He picked up his cell phone from the coffee table and slid his index finger on the screen. The message was brief: This reminded me of you. I started reading Fernando Pessoa's poems and would love to talk with you about them. Maybe one of these days after school? Attached to it, the photo of a sunny forest and a quote by the poet: "Organize your life like a literary work, putting as much unity into it as possible." Marco shook his head and pressed the trash icon.

"Done," he said, emptying the trash. "I don't know what got her to start harassing me again, but I'm gonna keep my distance."

"She's really trying hard, eh? It's the last chance to hook you before the end of the year." With her curiosity satisfied, Marisa was now indignant. "And what's the deal with Fernando Pessoa and the forest? Are the trees supposed to provide paper for the literary work of your life?"

"Beats me. Now let's forget about Camila, okay? Mari, you've got to promise you will never spy on me again. You have no idea how much that affects me. My marriage was destroyed by mistrust. I want to build an honest relationship with you."

Marisa clarified she had seen him with Camila by chance. She apologized for checking his cell phone and, after some hesitation, asked if he wasn't attracted to Camila.

The question disconcerted him. He thought about the possibility, which had never crossed his mind until then. Granted, Camila was pretty, but her looks did nothing for him. It was rather like a photograph in a catalogue that you would flick through and soon forget. Camila bombarded him with questions and followed him in the hallway, making it almost impossible to get rid of her. She had asked for help in a research once and he gave her a print, but that was all.

"To me, Camila is just a student like any other," he concluded. "With you, things are different. And I'll never cheat on you because I don't accept cheating. If we were to see other people, there wouldn't make sense for us to be together. The intimacy we share is unique. It belongs to the two of us alone. Dragging someone else into the relationship would violate it and I don't want to spoil it like that." Here, Marco stared at her with such intensity it alarmed her. "If you ever fall for another man, you've got to be honest and tell me."

"Marco, I don't do to others what I don't want others doing to me." She sustained her gaze with equal intensity. "I hate lies and would never betray your trust. I know how it feels to be awake at night imagining the person you love in the arms of someone else, imagining they were together behind your back, cringing for having kissed a person who was just out of someone else's bed. I couldn't do that to anyone. Especially to you. But tonight I felt so insecure when you mentioned damage..."

"Please, erase that. I wasn't talking about us. You were the best thing that happened to me. But I don't want to cause problems with your family and be an obstacle in your life."

"An obstacle? My love, I've never been so happy as I am with you."

Marisa gazed at him, and her eyes confirmed what she said. She put her arms around him. They remained silent for a moment, each with their own thoughts.

"Thank you. I needed to hear that," he whispered. "Everything will be easier once you're no longer my student and we'll figure a way of smoothing things out with your mom. With time, she'll eventually get used to the idea."

"I hope you're right..."

At that point, Marisa blurted out her concern. Her mother was a difficult woman. Maybe she was like that because of her own father, an irascible colonel who had driven her two uncles away from home as soon as they turned eighteen. All severity reserved to the uncles, however, turned into complacence when it came to Marisa's mom. If none of what his sons did was ever good enough, everything his daughter did was perfect. She grew up not knowing what it meant to be contradicted.

At twenty, she was engaged to a senator fifteen years her senior. She obsessed with the perfect wedding and her willful ways brought the relationship to an end. The senator called the engagement off one week before the wedding and, a month later, Marisa's mother learned he was with another woman. That carved a deep wound in her pride. She recovered upon marrying Marisa's father, but then she dreamt of having a child and tried for five years to no avail. When she gave up, she got pregnant.

"My mom spoiled me a lot. She wanted me to be like her. When I grew older, I rebelled and she started criticizing me. We had many ups and downs until things cooled off. But since my dad's passing, she's been so neurotic. I feel guilty for not giving her more support. I wish I could be closer to her but it's hard."

"We can take her out on the weekends and then the two of you will be able to spend more time together, Mari."

"That's the problem. My mom obsesses with finding me a perfect husband. The failed engagement to the senator made her suspicious of older men and I fear her reaction when she learns about you."

"She could change her mind once she realizes you're happy and it's a steady relationship." He smiled, adding: "I've always been good at charming my girlfriends' moms."

Marisa's face remained somber.

"My mother is stubborn, Marco. If she doesn't approved something, that's it. She didn't like my ex Louis because he's Jewish. My dad attempted to appease her but she wouldn't leave me alone." Marisa shook her head at the memory. "One day, at a family lunch, my uncle Carlos took my side and said she was prepotent. They quarreled and my mom wouldn't speak to him for almost two years. Two years. She only got back in touch after my granny's funeral."

"We'll find a solution."

Marco didn't allow his uneasiness to show. He had his own reasons to worry-but those he kept to himself.