Doubt Me Not

Try as he might, Sergio could not keep his eyes open because of the painkillers. He swung his arm across Ximena’s shoulders and let her lead him inside. He crashed onto Ximena’s neatly made bed and fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. Sergio didn’t wake up until late in the afternoon. And to his everlasting relief, he woke up to the sound of Ximena quietly ordering around the young girl that looked vaguely similar to Ximena.

“You still do that?” Sergio asked without opening his eyes.

“Do what?” Mena questioned as she jumped slightly at the sound of his voice. She hadn’t realized he had woken up.

“Watch me sleep.”

“What can I say? I like the way you snore.”

Sergio’s short burst of laughter interrupted his yawn. His hand moved to his injured side, making Mena wince as she added, “Also, you did happen to get rammed by a Mini Cooper yesterday. Oh, and speaking of, I had Sasha get your painkillers from a nearby pharmacy.”

“I get tackled down by opponents bigger than that car,” Sergio scoffed and flinched as he tried to sit up, the painkiller’s effect had definitely worn off, “And rammed is a bit excessive, Mena. It was a love tap.”

“You are incredible,” Sasha interjected, making Sergio chuckle.

“Go set the table,” Ximena nodded towards the bedroom door.

Since Sasha had kept her promise and cleaned up the apartment, Mena had sat her down and explained the strange situation with Sergio while he had been napping away in the next room. By the end of it all, Sasha had developed a bit of an uncertain crush on the footballer, and she nagged Ximena to give him a real opportunity to explain his side of things.

“All you need to do is stay relaxed, I made pesto pasta with chicken, I’m sure you must be starved,” Ximena enticed when she returned her attention back to him. She placed a hand against his shoulder to press him back against the fluffed pillows.

“I can’t remember, did I like your cooking?”

“You managed to complain,” Ximena answered.

“To think all it took was a love tap from a Mini Cooper to try your cooking again,” Sergio observed with a disbelieving laugh as he shook his head and rubbed at his eye, “You know I still don’t quite believe this is happening; that you’re actually in front of me.”

“The surprise hasn’t worn off,” Ximena surmised.

Sergio dazedly shook his head, “No, it hasn’t.”

The sound of a phone vibrating shifted the direction of their conversation. And even though Ximena didn’t voice her concern aloud, she still wondered what would happen when the shock factor did finally wear off.

“Your phone has been buzzing like crazy; I thought you got in touch with your family,” Ximena recalled and handed Sergio his phone.

“I did.”

“Then why is your mom calling so much?”

Sergio didn’t immediately reply as he remembered the harsh words his mother managed to always have in reserve any time Ximena’s name came up in conversation. He had texted her during the car ride over, and in his sleepy state he may have divulged more details than needed. She was furious with her son for giving Ximena the time of day after what had happened. Sergio realized that the longer he stayed quiet, the easier it would be for Mena to assume the worst and so he attempted to smile.

“You did get in touch with her?” Ximena questioned doubtfully as she misread Sergio’s silence, “I saw you playing around with your phone in the car.”

“She was preoccupied with planning some party, she thought I had gone back to Madrid,” Sergio fibbed, “But I did let her know.”

“Ah,” Ximena nodded, but didn’t believe a word of it.

As she had sat and waited for Sergio to wake up, there was only one question that consistently demanded to be asked, but now that he was up and talking she held herself back. She was no longer willing to break the tentative truce that seemed to have sprung up between them.

“So, who made you boss of the moody teenager?” Sergio reached for the closest change of subject, and found an easy one by way of Sasha. Ximena’s own dreaded question remained stuck in her head.

“For all intents and purposes she is my kid,” Ximena emphasized, a protective tone enveloping her low voice. Sasha had a very consistent tendency to eavesdrop, and Ximena didn’t want to get into the young girl’s situation with her so close by.

“How old is she?”

“She’s eighteen, she’s not yours, don’t worry, Sergio,” Ximena read the Spaniard’s line of questioning wrong.

“She’s technically not yours either,” He immediately did the math and biologically, it was impossible. Ximena was a year younger than him which made her twenty-seven, and Sasha was apparently eighteen.

“She is as much mine as she is anyone’s now,” The protective tone presented itself even more aggressively in her words as her voice somehow dropped even lower.

Sergio raised his palms up, and took her hint to drop the subject, “Fine.”

“So while I was in Miami, I tried to keep up with your career, it wasn’t easy, mind you, but you have really flourished at Real Madrid,” Ximena made her own attempt to switch topics; lacking the guts to tackle anything more serious than a straight-forward compliment about Sergio’s football career.

“This whole time you were in fucking Miami?”

Ximena gave a slow nod, she had no idea where the last ten years had gone, but they had disappeared while she had been in Florida, “Humid, horrid Miami. I tried to tell you that.”

“No you didn’t,” Sergio retorted sharply, “When did you try to tell me where you were these last ten years? You just left me that letter.”

Ximena gushed and raved about Europe throughout the entire summer they had spent together, it was practically impossible to get her to stop talking about how much she preferred life in Spain, and here she was calmly revealing that she had gone back to America for the last decade. Sergio had never thought to expand his search outside of Europe because he had been so convinced of her love for the European lifestyle.

“Exactly Sergio, I explained everything in the letter, and if you had actually bothered to read it…” She trailed off, still hurt over the memory of the ripped up pieces that had been returned to her.

Sergio shook his head disbelieving of the turn the conversation had taken, “No you didn’t, because I did read it, again and again and again and still I kept reading that letter trying to make sense of it, and nowhere did it say where you had gone.”

“What are you saying? That’s not possible. How could you have read it? You ripped it up, unopened, and handed it back to Fiona, and she sent it back to me while I was in Miami,” Ximena refuted with a puzzled frown. She couldn’t comprehend why he felt the need to lie to her. Admittedly, ten years was a long time, but even a lifetime could pass and Ximena would never forget the level of hurt that coursed through her when she held the destroyed letter in her hands.

“Mena, you are remembering wrong,” Sergio stubbornly argued. He had kept the letter safely tucked away in his nightstand’s drawer. It was the last real memento he had of hers and he could never get himself to get rid of it. He had passed many a drunken night after celebrating a great game with going home along to reread that horrid letter while listening to the songs that they sang together that summer.

“You don’t need to lie to me, Sergio,” Ximena gently prodded, “I mean I understand, we were young and you-“

“If you think I’m lying to you then obviously you don’t understand anything, Mena,” Sergio remarked, feeling insulted that she was trying to underplay what she had written to him. Maybe in these ten years she had forgotten, but he certainly didn’t have the luxury to forget the words that had crushed his heart under their weight.

“Ok, so tell me, did you or did you not tell Fiona that you were planning on breaking up with me at the going-away party?” Ximena pressed impatiently. Now that the temporary truce was put to rest, Ximena forced herself to not be afraid of hearing the truth.

“I didn’t,” Sergio answered, but the wavering kept Ximena holding onto her doubt.

“Sergio!” An unfamiliar voice suddenly called.

“Oh fuck,” Sergio cursed under his breath.

“Who’s here?” Ximena questioned.

There was a sudden commotion in the living room. Both Sergio and Ximena strained their ears to pick up on the urgent conversation unfolding outside the bedroom, but they could only hear Sasha’s voice muffled by the sound of quick, insistent footsteps stomping towards the shut bedroom door.

“I opened the door and she just stormed past me,” Sasha called as an older woman opened the bedroom door with a horrified look in her eyes.

“My son gets hospitalized and of course this black cat rears her head,” The woman viciously snarled as she stared down an astonished Ximena.

“Mama, relax, look at me, I’m fine. It was just a bump,” Sergio reasoned soothingly. He knew his mother wasn’t exactly a fan of the dancer and he was willing to do anything to get her away before she said or did something even worse to frighten Ximena off. He wanted to kick himself for being so generous with details when he had been texting her.

“Scratch, bump, I don’t care, you are leaving with me right now,” Paqui furiously demanded.

“Oh please no, you must stay, I just finished setting the table,” Sasha sarcastically offered in a flat tone.

“Sasha, be quiet,” Ximena muttered, making Sasha roll her eyes.

“Get up, we are leaving, you are not staying another moment,” Paqui continued.

“Just go, Sergio,” Ximena quietly prodded, turning towards the footballer who had yet to come to his feet.

Sergio sighed and looked up at his mother, “I’ll be outside in a minute.”

Paqui stood straighter, peeled her lips apart just enough to mutter, I’ll be waiting, and stormed back outside without another glance towards Sasha and Mena.

“I can’t believe I gave her your address,” Sergio remembered with a frown.

“Those damn painkillers,” Ximena tacked on before he could.

“I’m going to come back here, you know, I know where you live now,” He warned, keeping his voice low as he forced on a smile hoping to bring a smile to Ximena’s face, “We’re not done. I don’t know how it’s possible, but I’m even more confused now.”

She nodded, mimicking his expression, “I know, I’ll be here; I’m not going anywhere.”

“Is that a promise?”

“I swear it,” Ximena swore. They were both obviously left perplexed with the other’s insistency with remembering the past incorrectly.

“I thought about seeing you again so many times, but I never imagined this particular scenario,” Ximena gave a rueful smile, “I didn’t account for your mother or my own sullen teenager eavesdropping at every opportunity.”

“Hey man, don’t be such a freaking soap opera and you won’t have me trying to spy,” Sasha commented shamelessly.

Sergio laughed as he closed the small space separating him from Ximena. He decided he had enough of time, of hospitals, of his own mother getting in the way of their imperfect reunion. He slowly leaned forward, and Mena assumed for a light kiss on the cheek, but his lips landed on hers causing red lights to instantly flash in her head and the dreaded question unceremoniously flew out of her mouth.

“What are you doing, Sergio? Aren’t you engaged!?” Ximena exclaimed in breathless shock, pushing him away as she did so.

“There is no way I heard you right…I’m what?” Sergio demanded in utter astonishment.

Sasha watched the exchange as she leaned against the bedroom doorway and she couldn’t decide who had the stronger shocked expression on their face.