Page 106 of Sol
I’m glad that’s the only thing she saw in thecathedral.
“I’ve loved her my wholelife.”
The registrar regarded me with surprise. “Really?”
“Really. She’s my best friend’ssister.”
“Hmmm,” she said,noncommittal.
I leaned over the desk. “Can I transfer into a differentclass?”
She flipped through some papers, looked around, then gazed at me, sizing me up. “It is unusual, but there is space for you, yes, in Professor Wyatt King’s class. The class is in the afternoons on Monday, Wednesday, andFriday.”
“I’d like that,” I said, and waited for her to change me in the system, then print out aconfirmation.
I checked my phone. I had minutes to spare before her meeting. I sprinted down the hall, clutching my transferpapers.
Without knocking, I opened the door. Dani stood in front of five serious Spanish administrators, three women and twomen.
They looked up, surprised at my entry. Dani blinked rapidly and bit her lip. I hadn’t told her exactly what Iplanned.
I could tell I’d interrupted one of the women, speaking to Dani in Spanish, I’m sure telling her that it did not reflect well on the school for a teacher to be romantically involved with astudent.
“Uh,hola,” I said. “Me llamoTrent.”
Dani’s eyebrows narrowed, and she cocked herhead.
“Who are you?” the woman asked me inSpanish.
“The one who loves Danika Anderson.” I started reading from a paper in Spanish. “I came to Spain because I couldn’t be away from Professor Anderson. I have known her my whole life. I signed up for her class so I could be with her. We are consenting adults, and we are in love. I don’t care about my grade, so I am quitting the class. I have signed up with another teacher. Please keep her as a teacher, she isexcellent.”
When I finished, silence filled the room so thick, I could’ve molded it into a sculpture. But Danibeamed.
“Well?” Iasked.
The line of stiff Spanish bureaucrats stared at eachother.
“So you are no longer taking theclass?”
“Right. I am no longer herstudent.”
They started whispering into each other’s ears. With a shrug, the man on the end, a portly Spaniard with a mustache, ripped up the papers in front ofhim.
“Amor.”
The other administrators shrugged. Love. It’s what you do inSpain.
“She’s free?” Iasked.
“She can remain teaching,” he said. “So long as you are not in herclass.”
“Thank you!” Dani cried, and hugged me. “Thank you,” she said to the administrators. “My apologies for any of this. I didn’t mean to fall in love, but Idid.”
“We understand,” said the woman. “Buenasuerte.”
* * *
That night,naked in bed, arms wrapped around each other, I pointed to herhead.
