i.
Ofelia didn't get home until nine o'clock on Saturday morning. Dominga gave her a stern look as her she came through the door, looking happy and well-rested. That wasn't how a dirty-stay-out was supposed to look, and that bothered Dominga even more.
"Hi." Ofelia said, stepping past her mother, who was cleaning up some breakfast plates. She didn't see Manuel, and hadn't seen his bike outside. Dominga didn't answer, but stood at the sink and made a loud racket with the dishes. Ofelia looked at the food that was still on the table and realized that she was famished. She hadn't eaten since early afternoon the day before. She picked up a tortilla and put some scrambled egg in it, but as she was about to roll it up her mother turned around violently and grabbed the girl's wrist.
"What, he couldn't buy you breakfast?" she said, her eyes narrow slits. Ofelia hadn't seen that side of her mother in years. Dominga made Ofelia drop the food. She wouldn't let go of her wrist, but pulled it instead, so that the girl was forced to face her.
"Leonard kept coming, looking for you." Dominga said sharply, so sharply it caused Ofelia's guts to feel a jolt of adrenaline. "What was I supposed to tell him? What? Answer me, hija!"
"I told him I was going out. I always tell him everything. I'll call him, Mama."
"You do that! You do that now. Sit down."
"I'll do it from my r...."
"Sit down and call him now." Dominga said. "Aqui. Ahora."
"Okay."
Ofelia sat down at the table and took her cell phone out of her bag. Dominga heard it power-on, and was not surprised to know that her daughter had turned her phone off. Dominga had never been angrier in her life, not even when her husband of twenty plus years had left her for that bottle-blonde puta from the coast. Dominga refused to give Ofelia any privacy, but chose to stand at her shoulder.
"Bueno. It's me.
"A little while ago. I'm sorry, pero.
"Yo seh.
"I know, Querido.
"It's.
"No. It's.
"It's not okay. I should have called you.
"Yes, I do.
"Si. Can I.
"Let me change. So.
"I need to change so.
"Okay. Like, a half-hour?
"Okay.
"Y tu.
See you."
Ofelia put her phone back in her bag and started to get out of the chair. Dominga put her hand on the girl's shoulder. Ofelia sat back down. Dominga took a seat beside her, and there was a brief pause. Dominga put some scrambled eggs in a tortilla, folded it up neatly, and put it on a plate in front of her daughter.
"Eat. I'm sorry I grabbed you before. You look so skinny. He couldn't even feed you."
"It's not like that. We."
"I don't want to hear it. It's not my business. But it's Leonard's business, hija. You should have seen him. He's so tired, from waiting for you."
"I."
"He's a good man, maybe the best man I know. What you did, you don't deserve him. You have a lot of your father in you."
Ofelia looked at her mother's eyes and saw that Dominga was not simply angry and trying to hurt her. She was telling the truth, as plainly as she possibly could. Dominga recognized a vulnerability in Ofelia she had never seen before, and she decided to exploit it.
"That's right. Believe it. There are times when I think to myself, this one, this pretty one, is like a man inside. With a man, it's his passions that control him, not his heart, or his mind. It's the same with you. You think you love this man, but you don't. These feelings will pass, but by then you'll have lost the man who could have made you happy. You'll see."
"Maybe not. Maybe I won't lose him."
"You've already lost him. You think he won't smell that man all over you? You're soaked through and through with him. When Leonard touches you next time, that man will leak out, like water from a sponge."
"You make it sound so filthy, Mama." Ofelia protested weakly. If only she could make her mother understand the dynamics of her relationship with Leonard. Maybe Leonard wouldn't seem so perfect. Ofelia allowed herself the small refuge of believing that perhaps, if Leonard hadn't practically pushed her into the arms of other men because of his...
"Eat." Dominga said, nudging the plate.
Ofelia did eat, and gobbled the tortilla so quickly her Mom filled another and passed it to her. "You could gain twenty pounds and you'd still be skinny."
"Thank you, Mama." Ofelia said when she had gobbled down the second egg-filled tortilla. "I'll go and change."
Leonard's apartment was a reflection of Leonard himself: perfectly well-organized, neat, clean, with not a speck of clutter; but it was also bland, colorless, banal. It reminded Ofelia of a hotel room. Leonard didn't appear angry, but he was obviously exhausted. He hadn't slept a wink in more than twenty-four hours. Instead of looking for his usual kiss hello, he shied away from his fiance, and kept a good deal of room between himself and Ofelia on the couch where they decided to sit down. She was dressed in a simple blue halter, roomy white shorts, ankle socks, and blue tennis shoes. Her hair was in a long braid.
Leonard stared at his girl. She had never looked so beautiful to him. Probably because he felt her slipping away from him. He swallowed hard and smiled crookedly. "So, did you have a good time?" he asked, then immediately added, "I'm not mad, Carina, it's just that. I wish. I mean, I don't understand why you couldn't call me."
"Yes, I did." Ofelia answered the first question, then continued, "It's not that I couldn't, it's that. Everything was, kind of crazy. I did think of you."
"That's good, I guess."
Ofelia was looking plaintively at Leonard, and he looked away from her because he didn't like what looked like pity shining like headlights in her eyes.
"Do you want me to tell you what happened?" she said, deciding to cut to the chase. The tension was high in the antiseptic room. Soft jazz piano music was murmuring from a small stereo system.
"I don't think I need you to tell me." Leonard said, examining his fingernails, which were clipped and even. "I mean, I don't suppose you stayed up all night playing checkers."
"No, we didn't. We were sleeping. Most of the time."
Leonard's face flushed. It's one thing to know the truth, it's quite another to hear it. Ofelia continued to talk. She moved closer to him, put her hand up on the back of the couch, close to his shoulder. "We didn't go out anywhere, we just went to his apartment. He lives close to the mall, in a duplex. It's nice. Anyway, we ended up. We went to his bed together."
"Just like that..."
"I told you already, Querido, we did some stuff in the pool; and there were some times at work too. It wasn't like, we just went and did it."
"So. I mean, I always told you, I'd rather you went ahead and did something with a guy instead of wondering about it all the time. So it's not like you went against me, and. It's not as if you're trying to deceive me. I'm glad you're being honest about it." Leonard said, and then his voice was harder when he added, "Because, if I heard about it from someone else, I would want to punish you."
"I know." Ofelia said, amazed and awed at the young man's self-control. What was it that she was looking past in this man? Who was it that she was preparing to throw away? He continued to impress her:
"Not punish you as in hit you or anything like that. I would die before I raised my hand to you, or any woman. But punish as in: try to make you hurt somehow, someway, inside."
"I know." Ofelia said, and she was smiling. The way people smile at a funeral. "You told me that before, Querido. And I know you mean what you say."
"So, are we engaged or not? Where do I stand?" Leonard asked her, and now she was thoroughly astonished. She was sure he wouldn't want to marry her now, despite that kink of his. Fantasy is one thing, and it can be sweet when it's fed by reality, but when it actually becomes reality?
She always made an analogy in her mind, as a way of comparing her fetish with Leonard's. It helped her to have an idea about how far she could go. For instance, she liked it when her numerous suitors peeked at her, spied on her, tried to touch her inappropriately, even when they did touch her; but if one of them stepped over the boundaries she had set up, if one of them had actually used force to do something against her will, it would immediately and absolutely cease being exciting. It would be a serious offense to her.
This made her think that Leonard probably enjoyed his little fetish within very strict boundaries as well. It was okay for a man to make a pass at his girl, to see his girl's body in a way they shouldn't have, even to touch her in a way they shouldn't have. These things excited him because they were limited, non-threatening. Part of his pleasure came from the fact that he knew Ofelia enjoyed the attention, she enjoyed being admired, being hit on, even being felt-up. But there was always that line of demarcation, a point past which no one could go. Once she let a man possess her, all bets were off.
Or so she thought.
