Page 109 of Sombra
Twenty-One
Tavo - Presión
Only my sheer force of will propels me to leave Kim and go to the orchard, because given the choice, I’d rather submit to a sadist trying out gruesome and barbaric equipment from the medieval torture museum than leave her alone with her ex-boyfriend.I need him around like I need a third cojon. Does he want to get back together with her?
But while I want to stick as close to her as a pick-pocketer, if she asks me to go, I’ll go. I trust her. I’ve never trusted anyone like her. Unlike the Alhambra, no fortifications surround my heart. I built no walls against her to protect it, armed it with no snipers to attack. She has me by the heart,by the balls, and I’ve never felt more unguarded in my life.
With my hands in my pockets, I head to the casita to change into my boots. When I emerge, Guillermo’s running up.
“Can I come with you?”
I scowl at him. I’d rather be alone. “Don’t you have class?”
He shrugs and grins. Ah, the little rat.
I give in. “Fine.” As we make our way through the wide-plantedtrees, I push through the leaves and check the ripeness of our fruit. Guillermo follows suit.
“I think they’re ready, Gustavo, what do you think?” He’s buried behind branches, calling from the next tree over. “They’re really dark.”
“Yeah, I agree,hermano.” And that’s both a relief and a stressor, since it’s now time to face our fate. Will we earn enough money to not only survivenext year, but pay off Mr. Molinero?
The alternative is unfathomable. Either way, we’ll know by next week.
The financial pressure I’m under makes the enormous and heavy granite rollers that grind the oil to its initial paste look like paperweights. Not just that.
Kim makes me dizzy like the centrifuge that extracts the oil from the paste in a spinning drum. How are we goingto make this work? Two countries. Unsupportive parents. Little money. Lots of dreams. A baby on the way.
And me falling in love.
As if not only reading my thoughts, but also jabbing with me with them, Guillermo asks, “Who is that guy with Kim?”
“It’s her ex-boyfriend,” I mutter.
Thankfully, Guillermo has the decency to look puzzled. He strokes his chin. “I thought sheliked you.”
“She does.”
“Then why is he here?”
“I don’t know.”
He rubs his nose with the back of his hand, leaving dirt on it. “That guy looks like a plastic action figure.”
I glare at him. Shane and Kim don’t go together at all, and I don’t understand why they ever were. He’s like her Instagram account filled with Starbucks drinks, not the joy of her travels.He can’t give her what she needs and wants—experiences, emotions, discovery. He couldn’t show her an adventure if it was scripted for him in advance.
My dagger-eyes make Guillermo throw up his hands like he’s being arrested. “What? I’m not saying that’s good.”
“It pisses me off because I don’t know why he’s here,” I admit.
“Don’t worry, Tavo. I’m sure it’ll all be fine.”
I nod, and we keep inspecting. As we keep going, trying to calculate how long it will take to harvest and how many people and how much equipment we need, I calm down by focusing on the work.
Once we get to the end of the first row, Guillermo starts talking about the harvest. “The trees on this slope aren’t as ripe as the ones facing the other way. We’ll have to start over there first.”
He’s right. “How many liters do you think we’ll get this year.”
“I think yields will be up. Look here.” He tugs at an especially ripe olive, oily in the cold sun.
