Page 14 of Sol
That made me laugh outloud.
“Okay, so he’s the right Trent Milner. How old is henow?”
“Twenty-two.”
A broad grin spread across her red lips. The proprietor set down plates of toasted baguettes with olive oil and a salty tomato spread. I bit into thepan con tomate, chewed, andswallowed.
“He could make for an interesting summer,” shesaid.
Yes, hecould.
* * *
After payingthe bar for our breakfast, Lulu and I went out to Plaza de la Trinidad and found a bench in the square under the broad-leafed plane trees. A group of old men in gray sweaters—even in summer—playedpetancawith steel balls on bare, rammed-earth hardscaping, jeering at each otherraucously.
She sat down on the bench and turned to me without preamble. “So the problem is that you won’t be able to get through the class because you wish you were doing the horizontaloh-yeahwith astudent.”
I kicked at the ground. “No. I don’t know. Isn’t it awkward? I mean, he’s my brother’s bestfriend.”
“Is he ajerk?”
“No. He had this air about him. Like a caretaker. He always made sure that Degan got lunch first and didn’t get picked last forsports.”
Rustling in her purse, she pulled out her lipstick and reapplied it, surveying the old guys across the way. “He soundsnice.”
A particularly cranky old man threw the steel ball, hitting his opponent’s. The magazine kiosk opened up for the day right next to us, unlocking the displays and setting them out. The line grew bigger for bread at another kiosk on the farside.
“He is.” Or at least, he always was. I didn’t know if the army had changedhim.
She ogled me up and down. “What are you going to wear on the firstday?”
I burst out laughing. “I can’t believe you’re soshallow.”
“What? If he is your prince charming coming to rescue you thousands of miles away in a different country, then wear something nice. Also, you know, wear something that makes me look good. I vouched foryou.”
Fingering the embroidery on my peasant blouse, I shrugged. “I’m going to wear what I alwayswear.”
“Slightly professional hippie princess?” sheasked.
I raised myeyebrows.
“You do that. He’ll know what he’s getting into then.” She paused, reconsidering. “I take itback.”
“Take whatback?”
“You shouldn’t get together withhim.”
I laughed again. “Who said I was goingto?”
“While I haven’t checked—and I have no reason to do so—I’m sure that Spain is like everywhere else, and that they have a no-fraternization policy. Teachers can’t sleep with theirstudents.”
“Jeez, woman. Give me some credit. It doesn’t matter if they do, since I’m not getting together with him. It won’t be anissue.”
“I know you. And all this,” she waved her hands in my direction, “talkmeans you want to have hisbabies.”
“Louise!”
“Your ovaries are set to detonate just thinking ofhim.”
