I hardly slept last night. This was for two reasons – my Father was unwell with his cold and secondly I had a heavy sadness over my heart thinking about The Spaniard. I played some dance music that he had sent me and I cried silently as the music provoked vivid flashbacks of moments with him.
The Spaniard had said that he would come at midday. I was starting to get nervous at 11.30am when he hadn’t sent a message yet. I waited until 11.45am and sent one saying that we were almost ready and about to go to the foyer. The message via Watsapp sent but it didn’t register as received. It also said that he was last active at 10.30pm the previous evening when he was picking me up to go dancing.
A few scenarios ran through my head. The worst was that he had changed his mind as he had implied that we would maintain a friendship. The game plan was now to wait until 12.15pm and then use the Metro. We went down to the foyer in anticipation.
Exactly on midday he arrived. I was so relieved to see him and also happy just because it meant I got to see him one last time. He was busy organising the car to fit us in. I watched patiently and enjoyed the moment as it was humbling to have a man be so tentative.
He drove us to the airport and I was so pleased that he parked there so that he could come in with us. During the car ride and walk he joked with my Father and also told him that his daughter was enchanting. The Spaniard also played for me a special song that was perfect for our encounter – Me entantas by Prince Royce – seriously, it is as if it was written in dedication to us.
The Spaniard went with us to the check in. I was expecting him to want to go back to his car at this point but he suggested a coffee. This made me so happy. We spoke as we enjoyed the drinks he purchased for us. There were a few pivotal points of conversation worth sharing with you: my Father said if there was space in the suitcase for him that he could join us; my Father said he was welcome to visit; The Spaniard who doesn’t like beer said he’d enjoy joining my Father having one; my Father didn’t bat an eyelid when The Spaniard mentioned his son and in fact asked many questions about him; The Spaniard was relieved that my Father wasn’t judgmental about him having a son; and, they spoke about how they both wanted to do the El Camino de Santiago….meaning we could hopefully meet again…soon.
What did I say that was pivotal? I told The Spaniard that I once wanted to work abroad but during my studies the translocation rules changed for my profession making it extremely difficult. I am sure he understood that this hidden message held hope. I decided not to tell him that I had once quit my job, relocated and learnt a language for love before…
He came with us until the security check where he could no longer accompany us. Approaching it he told me that he was sad. This was bad as it made me start to tear up. At the security gate he told me to stay beautiful, inside and out. He said that we would keep in contact and that it wasn’t a real goodbye. He also hugged my Father goodbye.
Just like a movie scene, he waited, watched, waved and blew kisses until the last moment that he could not see us on the other side of the gate any longer. I couldn’t stop the silent tears at the airport. I must admit that I’m an ugly crier but I didn’t care who saw me as my heart was throbbing in pain. I didn’t want my Father to hear me crying. I was embarrassed to be feeling cheated by the cruelty of starcrossed love. Short lived intense pleasure and bliss for the price of a broken heart – would I do it all again exactly the same?….yes.
During the flight home I had songs playing over and over in my mind so I decided to listen to some of the songs he had sent again. They made me cry again. So many wonderful memories of a wonderful man. These songs are the closest thing I have to feeling like I’m in the same room as The Spaniard – priceless.
Let’s wait, hope and see what will come.