We drove in the gate of Carlos's house in Sevilla. It was beautiful, a historic property dead in the center of old Sevilla. From the street, it just looked like any old townhouse, but the courtyard and the terraces were to die for.
"Welcome to my home," Carlos said. "If we're lucky Maria has cooked us some dinner." Like she was called for, a small lady in her 70-ies came running into the Courtyard. "Carlito!" she screamed and threw her short chubby arms around Carlos's torso, She took a look at me and then she threw her arms around me – and you must be Antonio Bechs granddaughter – "Que Linda!" I had almost forgotten that she was Rosa's older sister. She asked me about life in New York, she had visited Rosa there a couple of times staying in my house – that was back in the days when my house belonged to my grandparents.
I just loved Carlos's house. The smell of food cooking left my mouth watering. Was this where Carlos's family have lived all those years?
Like he could read my mind, he explained that this was his grandparents' home, and he and his family had used it as a holiday home for the last 20 years.
I fell in love with the house, and even more with its owner. I got settled into the bedroom and went for a stroll about the garden. I felt my Spanish family background kicked in. I needed to call mama!
I got on skype." Did you get the photo I sent of your painting? And, mama, what exactly did you tell Carlos back when he decided to leave New York?"
"Alma, I only wanted what was best for you, or what I thought was best for you. This history is long and difficult," mama said.
"You know, when we had to leave Spain during the Franco dictatorship, it was Carlos's father who warned my parents about them being the target of Franco's death squadrons. Why? because his semi-estranged older brother was the chief judge of the criminal court in Sevilla, and a Franco man. Those were dangerous times for us, mi corazon, My uncle was in prison, my papa had been taken to interrogation. We were so scared. When Carlos first came to New York and I realized he would be teaching you I was happy. Finally, our two families would pick up. I knew papa and Carlos's dad Sebastian spoke on the phone and sent each other letters and e-mails, but papa never went back to stay in the country where he fought for democracy and lost so much." Mama started crying.
"You know, it was the way you and Carlos picked up that was so difficult to live with, not that he was your teacher," she said between tears.
" How could you know anything about Carlos and me back then?" I never told you I said. "Walls have eyes and ears, and young lovers kissing in Central Park can easily be seen - besides I know my daughter," she said. "Ohh sure, Carlos is a charming and intelligent man, but at the time he was here, he was married, and he was your professor, and he is 10 years older than you. I was scared Alma – it could ruin your degree and his academic career if anyone found out."
I was not happy when you rushed into that marriage with Mick either, I thought it lacked the passion that should be between people who love each other. But that was what dad wanted, and what dad wants he gets," she said with a small laugh. " And now you are married, but still running after Carlos. Well, I guess your marriage is more like two old friends being roommates."
I saw her shaking her head on the laptop screen. "Are you in the Sevilla house?" she asked after a short while, I confirmed that we were and that I had already talked with Maria, Rosas sister.
"Actually his uncle was my first, puppy love. I was only 13 when I left the country – but I still learned a thing or two about the intenseness of the Alvarez men. We stayed there the summer before we went to the US. If you look at the bay window in the dining room you will see an inscription to the glass saying "J te quiero S" stupid child stuff but that was the love story of me and his uncle Juan."
I couldn't think. This was too much information – mama had a puppy love relationship with Carlos's uncle??? Come on- that stuff doesn't even happen in sick sweet love stories.
"So," she continued, "I suggest you stay in Spain until you know where your heart is. This will be a tough struggle regardless, and I'm not sure how I feel about it, but Mick seems to be ok with what's happening, so I guess the two of you have talked this through. I'm looking after your dogs, and please don't tell dad – he hated the Bech family history, and never got along with papa. He was furious when you moved in with my parents."
" Why should I tell dad? I hardly speak to him? Don't you tell him either mama, te quiero." I said and hung up.
Well. What can I say?
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