Tag Archives: my novel
We spy a small empty corner table near the back of the noisy restaurant and press our way through the crowd around the bar.
Inside the air is warm, almost musty, and smells faintly of cedar.
You would never guess it was there if you weren’t looking for it. The aged wooden door groans as Ricardo pushes it open.
Ricardo leads me through the city to a corner establishment tucked in a dark corner on the other side of the aqueduct.
Within minutes, he has me nearly doubled over in laughter as he recounts a humorous run-in this week with the old woman who used to watch him as a child.
Ahead, the Guaddarama Mountains are lush and green. Everything feels and smells fresh with the kiss of spring.
After finally resolving things with Ricardo, I feel light with renewed energy, and decide to clean the apartment while Gabby sleeps.
We make plans to get together that night for drinks and tapas. Ricardo says he knows the place in the city that undoubtedly has the best chorizo al vino—sausage slow-cooked in wine.
I feel like I did the first time I drove a car by myself. Mature, old, exhilarated. Able to do anything I wanted, simply because there was no one there to tell me no.
The key is cold and hard in my hand and I finger the ridges along its spine.