Sweetest Taboo (11 page)

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Authors: Eva Márquez

BOOK: Sweetest Taboo
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I picked up the phone and began to dial. From inside the glass phone booth, I could see our group being guided by a tour leader through Geneva’s main park, near the colorful flower canter in the shape of giant clock on the central lawn. I listened to the ringing tone on the other end of the receiver and began to panic. What if he wasn’t home? Or worse, what if his wife had stayed home today and picked up the phone?

“Hello?” came Tom’s deep voice. I felt a rush of relief.

“Hi,” I whispered. “It’s me.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Isabel? Where are you?” Tom asked. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be back for another week. Oh my God, are you home?”

“I’m in Switzerland right now,” I replied. “We just arrived this afternoon.”

“You’re calling me from Switzerland? Are you crazy? How are you paying for this?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m at a payphone and I’ve got my mom’s calling card,” I said into the shiny black receiver. “I’ve only got a few minutes because Mrs. Drake will come looking for me any minute, but I had to call you. Tom, I miss you so much. I just wanted to hear your voice and to tell you that I’ve been missing you like crazy.”

There was a pause, but I could hear the smile in Tom’s voice when he spoke. “I miss you too,” he answered. “I’ve been lonely without you. I keep thinking of the good time you must be having in Europe. You know that I always worry about some other guy showing up and sweeping you off your feet. I know it’s really none of my business, but I still can’t stop thinking about it.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” I replied, keeping an eye on Mrs. Drake and my friends. They were still standing by the flower clock. “I just miss you so much, Tom, and I can’t wait until I’m back home with you. I have to go, but I’ll save some credit and try to call you again in a few days.”

“I miss you too, Isabel. Be good, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too. Bye for now.”

“Bye, Isabel,” he said. I heard the final click on the other end of the line and closed my eyes against the tears.

Mrs. Drake was already frowning at me when I stepped out of the phone booth at the edge of the park. I hurried back to join the rest of the students, who were still listening intently to the tour leader talk about the mechanics of the oversized flower clock on the perfectly mowed lawn.

***

I would have preferred to share my time in Europe with Tom, but I didn’t have that opportunity, so I settled in with Ryan for the next few days, to have some innocent fun. We held hands and cuddled from park to park, we strolled through the cobblestone streets in Monaco, enjoying the mid-summer Mediterranean weather. Our last few days in Europe were spent in Northern France, in the coastal city of Normandy, where the gusty winds required us to wear light sweaters during the cloudless evenings.

“So, have you thought about what will happen when we go back home tomorrow?” Ryan asked on our last night in Normandy, right before the sun touched the horizon on its way to setting on the English Channel.

This was exactly where I did not want the conversation to go. I remained silent for a few moments before I finally spoke.

“Well, I’m not sure if I mentioned this, but at the end of August I’m supposed to move back to Chile with my family,” I replied slowly. “We don’t have any plans to return. So, I really can’t get serious with anyone right now because after I get back, I’ve got only a month left.”

“Oh,” Ryan said, fiddling with the vintage dog tags around his neck. “I didn’t know that you guys were moving back there permanently. I thought maybe it was just a trip or something.”

“I’m sorry, I should’ve told you from the beginning,” I said. “But I thought we were just fooling around. I didn’t think that any of this would continue back home. My parents don’t allow me to have a boyfriend because I’m not even sixteen yet, so there’s no way we can keep seeing each other back in California. It just won’t work out, Ryan. I’m sorry.”

The cold breeze tousled my long hair, filling the silence between us. After a long moment, Ryan looked up from his dog tags and gazed at the setting sun sinking below the horizon.

“Yeah, I guess it’s for the best,” he said, not looking at me. My heart sank; I hadn’t intended on hurting him, and it had honestly never occurred to me that he might want more than just a brief escapade with me on this trip. He was a nice guy, and didn’t deserve to have his heart broken simply because I was exploring my feelings. I reached out and took his hand, trying to apologize with my eyes. He smiled at me, but pulled his hand away and shrugged.

We walked back to the hotel with at least three feet of space separating us.

Ryan became distant and guarded after that, which was okay by me. I spent our last morning in France on the sunny beach again, but this time with a new friend named Heather. She was a mousy-haired freshman from our high school, and we’d become friends during the trip. Vicky was splashing in the water with Will, her new boyfriend from Washington.

“Why didn’t Ryan want to come to the beach today?” Heather asked. “It’s our last day here, doesn’t he want to take some pictures together or something?”

I knew that Vicky was out of earshot, and decided to be somewhat honest. “It’s kind of complicated. I sort of ended things with him last night and he took it pretty badly.”

“You mean, you broke up with Ryan?” Heather looked at me in amazement. “But why? He’s such a great catch, and you seem really into each other.”

“I guess he was expecting that we would keep dating back home. That can’t happen, though, and he’s not happy about it.” I shrugged. “The truth is that I’m seeing someone at home. I never told Ryan, I just told him that I couldn’t date at home because of my parents.”

Heather looked confused. “So you mean you cheated on your boyfriend back home?”

“Well, not really,” I tried to clarify, “It’s not like he’s actually my boyfriend. He’s an older guy and he’s … married. He even has kids. It’s really complicated.”

Heather was intrigued. “Who’s this guy you’re seeing? I mean, how old is he?”

“He’s in his late twenties,” I lied. “I met him at a nightclub. Like I said, it’s complicated, but I’m totally into him, so there’s not much I can do about that right now.”

I reached down, picked up a jagged rock and drew a big heart in the sand. Within the heart I wrote: “Isabel ♥’s Tom.”

Heather laughed, and I looked up at her. “You better erase that before Ryan sees it,” she teased. “It will make things even worse!”

I smiled. “You’re probably right. Before I do, though, can you take a picture of me with it? I want to give him a picture to prove to him that I was thinking of him, even when I was here. We’ve never been apart for this long.”

“Yeah, sure.” Heather took the camera from my hand and snapped a few pictures.

I am not altogether certain if the picture ever made it to Tom’s hands after my trip to Europe, but I know that my brief fling with Ryan certainly reached his ears.

Chapter Nine

It Ain’t Over ’til It’s Over

T
he trip to Europe had been a liberating experience. I had been out on my own – with some other high school students – seeing the world and making some of my own decisions. More importantly, I had experimented a bit with someone else for the first time since Tom and I started seeing each other, and found that I didn’t like it. I had always told myself that my relationship with Tom was something that I could let go of anytime I wanted, and I tested that belief with Ryan while in Europe. I had been wrong about being able to let go of it. The experience with Ryan was like running into a brick wall. The only thing it had taught me was that I couldn’t shake what I felt for Tom. In my heart and mind, he was
it
.

The first thing I did when I returned home, before unpacking or calling my friends to let them know I was back, was to call Tom. My mom picked me up before she went to work, so I was home alone. It was a Tuesday morning and I knew Tom didn’t have any classes that day, so he would be home. I prayed that his wife would be out, but I couldn’t be sure.

I dialed the phone with chills running up my spine, as I waited breathlessly. Tom picked up on the second ring.

“Hello,” came Tom’s voice. My heart jumped.

“Hi stranger,” I said, barely able to contain my excitement. “Did you miss me?”

He chuckled. “So you’re back, are you? I thought you’d never return. How are you?”

“I’m good. Just got home this morning. I wanted to give you a call to say hi … I couldn’t wait.”

There was a pause. “That’s it?” Tom asked. “You just wanted to say hi? Don’t you want to see me? Or have you forgotten all about me already?”

I could sense the jealousy in his voice, and wondered if I had somehow given myself away. Did he know that I had been sneaking around with someone else during my time in Europe?

“How could I forget all about you?” I asked hesitantly. “Didn’t I call you from Switzerland? I missed you like crazy. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, you know that.”

A beat of silence. I held my breath. I knew there was no way he could have known what went on between Ryan and me, at least not yet. We had only just returned this morning.

It occurred to me now, though, that he was almost bound to hear about Ryan at some point. Everyone had seen us. Someone would talk. I had made a big mistake, I realized, and hadn’t even thought the whole thing through.

“What’re you doing in an hour?” Tom finally spoke.

“Seeing you,” I answered, smiling. The excitement of seeing him after a two-week separation made my heart race. My heart was burdened with love and jealousy, and my body ached to be as physically close to him as humanly possible.

***

Our reunion was incredibly passionate. The Southern California summer heat was hard to bear up in our mountain retreat, but all I could think of was how much I wanted to feel him inside my body. I wanted it more than anything I had wanted before, but still didn’t feel ready. We had come close to making love before, but we had held back. Now I knew that it was time. Tom’s body skillfully caressed mine, and although I could feel
him
pulsating, I trusted him enough to know that I did not have to fear penetration. Tom was content with kissing and being close to me. He was unlike other guys, who were merely interested in “going all the way.” He never demanded anything physically of me, and I never felt any pressure from him at all. I had not been ready to give myself up completely yet, but we could lie completely naked without me worrying about what he would do.

“Isabel, I really missed you,” Tom said; he was lying gently on top of me, keeping his weight off of me and propping himself up slightly with his elbows. “I care about you so much, and you’ve changed my life. I don’t know what I’m going to do when you leave. We’ve got about a month left, and then that’s it. You’re going to move back to Chile, go to a new school, make new friends and fall in love again.” He stared into my eyes. “But I’m the one staying behind without you. I’m left here alone.”

This is not where I had wanted any of this to go. I had ventured too far, and now Tom’s feelings, and my own, were at stake.

“Don’t think about those things,” I told him, running my nails softly up and down his back, caressing his skin. “Not right now. You don’t know what will happen. Maybe you’ll meet someone else, or fall back in love with your wife. Maybe you’ll forget about me quicker than you think. You never know.” These were lies, I realized, and made light of a situation that was far more meaningful for the both of us. I hoped that my trivial comments would ease his heart, though, and make him feel better.

Instead, he took them to heart. He sat up and reached for his clothes, which were scattered on the floor of the truck. He got dressed without looking at me or speaking, and I realized that I had hurt his feelings. I began putting on my clothes as well, and when he reached out to turn the key in the ignition, I stretched out my hand and touched his.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Tom,” I said, looking at him. “I was just trying to make you feel better. I don’t like to see you like this, and when I do, I feel like it’s all my fault because I got us into this.”

Tom’s expression softened; with his free hand he reached over to caress my cheek.

“Isabel, nothing’s your fault,” he told me. “You didn’t get us into this alone. It takes two to tango, and I don’t want you to ever feel guilty about any of this. I’m a sentimental guy, that’s just the way I am. Even if you break my heart in the end, I wouldn’t regret a single moment of this.” He paused, and then continued. “What bothers me is that you think I’ll just go out and find someone else to replace you. I don’t think you realize that you’re more than a fling to me. There was no one before you and there won’t be anyone after you. So when I feel sad about you going back to Chile, it’s because I’m losing the love of my life.”

I took Tom in my arms and embraced him, burying my face in his chest and breathing deeply to take in his scent.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered softly, “I know you love me. The fact that you’re married makes me insecure, and I’m not used to feeling that way. But I love you. I don’t want you to be hurt.” I paused and took a deep breath. “Maybe we should look at our relationship as a journey. It may be interrupted here and there, but hopefully we’ll keep going. Even after I go back to Chile, you’ll still be in my heart, Tom. And the future may have more in store for us. You never know.”

***

Most of our stuff was shipped back to Santiago by sea, and went weeks before we actually departed from California. We kept only what we needed, and made sure that it could all fit into our suitcases.

“Yes, yes, yes,” I muttered into the phone. Liz was making me promise – again – that I would write her at least one letter a week. “Of course I’ll be writing you, Liz. What would I do without you? I’m going to count on your advice about all my new friends!” I listened to her laugh on the other end of the line, and smiled. “Listen, Liz, I have to go,” I finally told her. “I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

I would miss Liz terribly, but I had other things on my mind.

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