Nacho Figueras Presents (11 page)

A
ntonia stood in Pilar's powder room, trying to catch her breath. Her hands were clutching the sink and she had her forehead pressed against the mirrored door of the medicine chest. She was hyperventilating.

There was a knock on the door. “Noni?” said Enzo. “Are you all right?”

She shook her head, trying to answer. Finally she sucked in enough air to choke out, “I'm okay. I'll…I'll be out in a moment.”

“Noni”—Enzo's voice was low—“let me in.”

“You know what?” she said. Even to her own ears, her voice sounded strange and high-pitched. “Why don't I meet you back at the barn in a little while? I think I should probably, um, talk to my mom and Jacob and…” Her breath felt short again as she trailed off.

There was a long silence, and then finally, “Okay.
Bien
.”

She shut her eyes, swallowed hard, and leaned against the door for a moment. “Enzo?” she whispered. “I'm sorry. I know this must all seem crazy to you. I promise, I'll explain it all later.”

She waited.

No answer.

She turned the knob and opened the door a crack. Then wider.

“Enzo?”

The hallway was empty. She heard the front door shut.

She pulled the bathroom door closed again and ran the water in the sink, splashing her face and then drying off with a hand towel. She looked at herself in the mirror. She pinched her cheeks, not wanting to scare Max with her ghostlike pallor.

Max.

She shook her head, hardly able to believe it. He was so beautiful. Those red curls. His hair had just been baby fuzz when she had last seen him. She and Jacob had always joked about what a little baldy he was, how slow his hair was to grow.

She smiled, remembering.

After he had hugged her outside, she had allowed herself to hold him for just one moment before she realized that she was either going to break down into sobs or hysterical laughter, and she honestly wasn't sure which it would be. Not wanting to alarm the child, she had gently extricated herself, stammered an excuse, and then bolted for the bathroom.

But she was calmer now. It was time to come out.

She took a deep breath, opened the bathroom door, and headed for the parlor.

They were all gathered in one end of the room. Benny and Jacob sitting, perfectly comfortable, on one of Pilar's tufted white couches. Pilar a bit off to the side, eyes narrowed as she looked at Benny. And Max, standing in front of a glass coffee table, examining a large dish of shells and sea glass.

They all looked up at Noni as she walked in.

She ignored the adults and went to straight to Max, squatting down on the other side of the coffee table.

He looked up at her warily. She smiled at him. “Do you like to collect shells, Max?” she said.

He blinked, his big brown eyes owl-like behind his glasses; then he nodded shyly. He held up a piece of green sea glass. “This kind is my favorite,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Noni nodded. “Mine too.”

She allowed herself to just look at the little boy for a moment. Her chest felt tight as she hungrily took in his round, pudgy cheeks, the velvety soft golden hue of his skin, the spangle of freckles across his nose, his long thick dark red eyelashes, the gleam of his curls, the determined set of his little shoulders under his striped green and blue shirt, the dimples on the backs of his small square hands as he capably sorted through the shells…

She wanted nothing more than to gather him up in her arms, see if the heft of his little body felt the same when she held him, bury her nose in his copper curls and smell him—searching out that bright, sunny, sweet baby smell that she would never forget.

Her heart ached, and she wasn't sure if it was from loss or relief of having him near again.

“Why, that's not even a shell,” put in Benny, plucking the sea glass away from Max's hand. “That's just garbage, really.” She smiled broadly and chose a small spotted cowrie shell from the dish. “Now this is a pretty shell.”

Max frowned.

Noni looked at her mother, exasperated. “Why would you say that?” She looked at Max. “Sea glass isn't garbage.”

Benny rolled her eyes. “How is broken glass not garbage?”

“It's been transformed, Benny,” Jacob interjected. “Garbage to art.”

Noni glanced at him. He gave her a crooked little smile. She looked away, not wanting his help.

“Well,” said Benny, “I suppose that's one way of looking at it.”

Noni sighed, reminded that no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't just sit here and look at Max's little hands all day. She had to find out what was going on.

“Pilar,” she said nervously, inclining her head toward Max, “would you mind taking…”

Pilar looked at her inscrutably and then gave her the tiniest nod in response. “Max,” she said, “do you like boats? Because I have a boat in a bottle in the other room that is really quite interesting. Would you like to see it?”

Max looked at her. “Okay,” he said softly.

Pilar held out her hand. He hesitated, darting a quick glance at Jacob, and then took it.

Pilar led him out. “I have never been able to figure out how they got it in there. Perhaps you will know,” she said as they left the room, sliding the pocket doors shut behind her.

Noni was suddenly uncomfortably aware that she was still squatting on the ground, looking up at her mother and Jacob.

She stood up.

Benny threw herself backward on the couch with a dramatic sigh. “I thought she'd never leave.” She looked over at Noni. “So, how many face-lifts has she had already?”

Jacob wandered around the room a bit, picking up various things and then putting them back down again. “This is a beautiful house,” he said.

Benny snorted. “Carlos hated this place. Said it felt like a jail.”

Jacob laughed, peering at a small Edward Hopper on the wall. “We should all be sentenced to such a jail.”

“Why are you here?” said Noni, not wanting to hear any more about the house or Pilar's suspected plastic surgery.

They both turned their heads toward her, looking surprised by her bluntness. She felt her face flush but didn't waver in her gaze. “And why,” she said, her voice shaking just the smallest amount, “did Max call me Mama?”

Jacob seemed to recover first. He gave her an easy smile. “Sorry about that. He was just so excited about seeing you again.”

Noni shook her head in confusion. “How does he know who I am? Last time I saw him he wasn't even a year old yet.”

Jacob shrugged. “Well, you know, of course we talk about you, Noni. And I show him pictures.”

Antonia stared at him. Her heart was beating double time. “Why?”

Benny sat upright. “Why wouldn't he? You were a very important person in that little boy's life, you know, Antonia.”

Noni turned to her mother, completely bewildered. “And why are you here with them?”

Benny smiled brightly. “Because Jacob invited me. He said he was coming up to see you and asked if I wanted to come along.”

Noni looked at her mother and then at Jacob. She felt like she was drowning. “Mother,” she said at last, “would you please excuse us?”

Her mother arched her meticulously shaped eyebrows. “Can't wait to be alone again, eh?”

“Please,” said Noni. She strained to keep her voice under control.

Benny sighed dramatically and stood up. “Fine. I guess I'll go make sure that old dragon Pilar isn't eating Max alive.”

After she left the room, shutting the door behind her, Noni looked at Jacob. She felt like she was hurtled back in time, looking into his dark blue eyes.

“Noni,” he said. His voice was soft. “I know this must be difficult.”

“Honestly?” said Noni. “It's excruciating.”

“I just,” said Jacob, “I just wanted him to know you, is all. Your mother was right. You were important to him.”

“But why now?”

Jacob looked away. Under his beard, she could see his jaw clench. “I've never stopped thinking of you, Antonia,” he said gruffly. “Not a day has passed since you left that I haven't thought of you.”

“
You
left
me
,” said Noni. Her voice shook. “You left me and you took Max.”

Jacob looked pained. “I know. But I had to. You know that, right?”

Noni felt her stomach twist at his words. Tears sprang to her eyes. She looked away from him and nodded.

“But,” he said, “I will never forgive myself for hurting you that way. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was protecting him. But then when I saw you at Benny's opening…I knew it had all been a huge mistake.”

Noni stared at him, completely bewildered. He strode across the room and took her hand between his. She froze. Too shocked to pull away.

“I want you back, Noni,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “I want us to be a family again.”

E
nzo picked the wildest horse in the stable, a big white stallion named El Rey that was kept more for breeding than riding, and rode him down the twisting narrow path at the edge of the property that led to the Del Campos' private beach.

He needed to ride, and he needed to ride hard. Seeing the look on Antonia's face when that little boy had called her Mama and wrapped his arms around her—the strange combination of joy and terror—and then her refusal to explain things immediately after, Enzo had felt mired in secrets, overwhelmed by all that she had not told him.

He reached the edge of the beach. As if echoing his mood, the gorgeous sunny day had turned dark and stormy. Billowing black clouds were racing across the sky, and the sea was a tarnished silver, restless and turbulent. Enzo could see the whitecaps in the water.

“Ya!” He tapped his heels into El Rey's sides and took him galloping toward the water, only turning him once the big horse's hooves hit the surf.

They flew down the empty beach, the frigid water splashing against Enzo's legs with every step of El Rey's stride. The salty wind whipped at Enzo's face, and the sound of the surf roared in his ears. He pushed the stallion until he felt that he had, at least temporarily, managed to outdistance the demons that were chasing him.

He slowed the horse to a trot and then to a walk. El Rey snorted as Enzo twisted in his saddle to look over his shoulder, squinting down the beach and realizing he'd gone farther than he had intended. A fat drop of rain hit his face as he turned the horse to head back to the farm. Distant thunder rumbled, and Enzo could feel the stallion shudder slightly, so he gave him the lead. They kicked into a brisk trot, trying to outpace the weather.

Visibility was bad and Enzo cursed himself for taking the horse out to begin with. He'd let his own needs take precedence over the pony's, and he felt like an ass as the rain started really coming down and the stallion increased his speed.

Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, a black and white blur crossed their path and raced almost under El Rey's hooves. The stallion whinnied and shied as the blur separated into two blurs—one on each side of the horse—and Enzo realized it was Noni's dogs.

“
¡Mierda!
” Enzo swore, fighting to get the pony under control. The dogs kept going—racing down the beach past them, but then, from somewhere ahead, there came a long whistle, and the sisters circled round and came running back toward them again.

“Damn it, Antonia!” Enzo roared as the slight figure, still clad only in jeans and a tank top, came into view. She looked up at him as he brought the restless horse alongside her. Her face was pale and her long hair was plastered against her head and streaming down her back.

“Are you all right?” she said loudly.

El Rey kept dancing as Enzo fought for control. “I'm fine,” he yelled back. “No thanks to your dogs!”

“I need to talk to you!” she shouted over the sound of the wind and the rain. She pointed to an old pier a little ways down the beach. “Meet me there!” And then, without waiting for his answer, she took off running for shelter.

It was dim and cool under the wharf but blessedly dry. The rain drummed on the wood above her as Antonia pushed her wet hair away from her face and rubbed at her arms, trying to get warm as she watched Enzo dismount and lead the horse under the shelter of the pier, tying him to a post in the corner.

He turned to face her, and Noni caught her breath. He was drenched through and his dark green T-shirt was clinging so tight that she could make out every line of muscle in his chest and abs. His black hair was damp and pushed away from his face, but drops of water still ran down his cheeks and neck and over his broad shoulders. His jeans were like a second skin, showing off his muscular thighs. Even his dark brown riding boots were soaked.

He licked the dampness off his full lips and she shivered.

“Cold?” he asked. His eyes were hooded and glittering with a dangerous intensity, but his voice was calm.

She shook her head and fought the urge to move forward, press herself against him.

“So, who's the boy?” he asked quietly.

She blinked. His words were like ice down her back.

“Not…not mine,” she stammered. “I mean, not in the way you think.”

He looked doubtful. “He called you Mama.”

She took a deep breath. “I need to sit down,” she said faintly. She sank into the sand, leaned back against a pillar, and closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her strength. Then opened them and looked up.

He stood with his muscular arms crossed over his chest, watching her, inscrutable.

“I met Jacob when I was twenty,” she began, “and he was thirty-five. My mom and I were living in Berlin. We'd been all over the continent, traveling off and on for a couple of years, but then my mom read about this artists' collective in Berlin and decided it was something she needed to be a part of.

“She was making jewelry then, just beading stuff at first, but what she really wanted was to learn to work with metal. And the collective had a forge. Jacob was the teacher. As it turned out, my mom was really bad at metalwork—but I had the touch.”

She absently traced the anvil tattoo on her inner wrist.

“Jacob was intense and handsome and ambitious. He worked with steel and iron—larger-than-life sculptures that were just starting to get some attention. Once he saw what I could do—how the forge felt so natural to me—he took me on as his apprentice. I was so happy. He was incredibly talented. For the first time, I felt like I was really good at something. And”—she hesitated briefly—“I'll admit, I had a pretty big crush on him.”

The rain started coming down even harder, and a loud crack of thunder split the air. The white pony shook his head and whinnied in fear. Enzo hurried over to soothe him. He looked back at Noni. “Go on,” he said, running his hands over the horse.

“Jacob had a wife. She was a dancer. Her name was Astrid. Jacob told me that she was an ex-junkie. That she used to do heroin before they got married but that Jacob had helped her get clean and that she was pregnant and they were going to have a baby.”

Seeing Enzo's raised eyebrows, Noni shrugged. “He always said I was easy to talk to.”

Enzo snorted.

“Anyway, Astrid had the baby, and that was Max.”

“Max,” said Enzo, like he was trying out the name.

Antonia nodded. “Max…” She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to get warmer. “At first, everything was good. Jacob had this new baby and this beautiful wife, and his art career was taking off. But then—I don't really know why—Astrid started using again.”

Enzo slowly nodded. “Ah.”

“Yeah. He tried to get her to go to rehab—you know, for Max. But she wouldn't. Or she couldn't, I guess. I don't know. So Jacob would bring Max to the studio because he couldn't trust Astrid to take care of him. He never knew if he was going to come home and just find her nodding out. But he had to work, of course, so he would bring Max in, and I started watching the baby for him. Just a little at first. Then more and more. Jacob and I…we got closer. Nothing happened between us, Jacob would never have done that to Astrid, but there was definitely a connection.”

She pushed her wet hair back out of her face again.

“Mostly, though, it was about Max. He was such a sweet little baby.” She smiled to herself, remembering. “He looked worried all the time back then.” She looked at Enzo. “Isn't that funny? That a baby could look worried?”

“It sounds like he had a reason to be worried.”

She gave a little bark of rueful laughter. “Well, yeah, no kidding because…Astrid OD'd. She died.” She looked away from Enzo for a moment, fighting the lump in her throat. “It was awful,” she finally whispered.

A look of pain passed over Enzo's face. “I can only imagine.”

“Max was still really, really young. Not even six months old. Jacob didn't have anyone else to help, and he was such a mess, and he needed someone. Max needed someone. So I just, kind of stepped in, you know?”

Enzo shook his head. “Where was your mother,
niña
?”

Noni snorted. “My mom? Oh, she was around, I guess. But she never liked babies. She wasn't going to help. When I told her that I was moving in with Jacob and Max, I think she was relieved, honestly. She wouldn't have to support me anymore or stay in Berlin any longer. She wanted to go to Istanbul.”

She was quiet for a moment. The rain continued to fall.

“So, at first we were, you know, like a little family. I stayed home at the flat with Max, and Jacob went to work, and we did stuff like have dinner together every night. Stuff I had never done before, really.” She looked up at Enzo and smiled. “I loved it. I really did.”

She smiled softly to herself.

“Jacob worked a lot. But he was an artist, you know? That's what an artist does. I was used to that because of my mother. But the difference between Jake and my mom was that when Jacob was there with me, he was really there. All of his attention just completely focused on me. It was…intoxicating, honestly.”

She noticed Enzo's scowl and hurried on.

“Mostly, though, it was just the two of us—me and Max—and for the first time, I felt like someone was really…mine. And that I was his. I would hold him and rock him and give him his bottle, and he would look up at me, just stare at me, with these huge eyes, so serious and worried, while he ate. Sometimes he would reach up and touch my face, pat my cheek or tug on a lock of my hair…”

Her throat hurt. She swallowed.

“But it was also hard. I mean, I loved Max. I loved him so much. But he was fussy and didn't sleep well, and just—he cried a lot. Sometimes it seemed like there was nothing I could do make him stop.”

“And what about his father?” asked Enzo. “Could he make him stop?”

Noni felt her smile twist. “Like I said, he worked a lot and, you know, he needed his sleep because he had to get up early. I was the one staying home. It was up to me to get Max to sleep.”

Enzo shook his head but said nothing.

“Anyway, one day, Max got really sick. Like a flu. Fever and a cough, he wouldn't take his bottle, and he couldn't sleep. It was terrible. I took him to the doctor, but they just said it was a virus, and he would get over it and just to make sure that he got lots of fluids and bring him back if his temperature went up again. He was like that for three days straight. He just kept crying, and he wasn't sleeping; he was so miserable. I didn't sleep at all. I was so exhausted. Jacob had an exhibit coming up—a huge deadline—so he was working night and day. He would have helped me if he could, but it was really something that could make or break his career. He basically had to stay at the studio twenty-four-seven.”

Enzo shook his head but remained silent.

“So I was taking care of Max the best I could, but then I got sick, too. Or, I don't know, maybe I was just tired. Because if Max wasn't sleeping, neither was I, right? In any case, Jacob was working late…and…” She trailed off. Not sure that she could talk about it. She had never talked about it with anyone.

“What happened,
querida
?” His eyes were softer now, concerned.

She looked down. “I fell asleep,” she said. “I was just so, so tired, Enzo. And he was crying, but I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. I felt like I was going to pass out. So I put him in his crib. I thought I would just let him cry a little bit. That I would lie down, just for a moment…”

She swallowed. The words were caught in her throat. “He was blue,” she whispered. “When Jacob got home, I was asleep and Max was in his crib—he wasn't breathing. He was choking.”

Enzo looked at her. “But he was okay in the end.”

She looked up at him, felt the tears start down her cheeks. “He almost died, Enzo. He could have died. The doctors told Jacob that if he hadn't gotten there in time…”

“But he did get there in time. He didn't die.”

She looked away. “It didn't matter. The point is, I didn't even notice. He was choking to death, right there next to me in the crib, and I didn't even wake up. I was just like my mom. I tuned out. I wasn't paying attention.”

He shook his head. “Noni, that's ridiculous.”

“I was in over my head. It was too much for me to handle.”

“It was one mistake,
niña
. Everyone makes mistakes.”

She shook her head fiercely, wiping her eyes. “Not like that, they don't. It was my fault. I put him down even though he was still crying. I knew he was sick but I put him down anyway.”

She shivered.

“I was there every day at the hospital. I would stay by his bed while Jacob was at work, just watching Max every moment, making sure it didn't happen again, you know? I slept there every night on a little cot.”

Enzo shook his head.

“After a few days, he got better, and it was time for him to be released. I was so happy, so relieved. I was packing his little bag, gathering up this little bear I had bought him from the gift shop, when Jacob came in and told me to stop packing and sit down.”

She stared blindly out at the storm.

“He said that they weren't coming home with me. That they were leaving.”

“Wait. He left you? Why?”

“He said that it was obviously too much for me. That he never should have dragged me into all of it to begin with. That he needed to know that Max was going to be safe. That I wasn't meant to be a mother. I didn't know what I was doing.”

Enzo looked incredulous. “That's insane.”

She shook her head. “No. He was right. I was in over my head. It was too much for me. I wasn't built to be a mom.”

“I'd say you were doing pretty well, all things considered.”