Page 61 of The Virgin's Dance
“Mom, no,” she cringed, thinking about the big plan she’d formulated with her mom and her girlfriends before getting on the plane to see José.
“You think it’s better to wait until he says it to you first?”
“Mom, no … José and I—we’re just going to stay friends. We are just friends.”
“Just friends? Come on, hon. The two of you were basically inseparable for all of college. The whole time you were home you were just pining and pining … I couldn’t handle it anymore! All that moping—that’s why I told you to go over there. So you two could get it together at last. You know, I know your generation is different, and I guess I grew up in the sixties and it was different back then—anything went—not like the prudes of today.”
If Donna had to listen to her mom’s rambling for even a second longer, she knew she’d end up screaming. “Mom! M—stop already!” she interrupted. “José is getting married.”
“That’s wonderful! A bit quick I’d say, but wow! Engaged to your first boyfriend! I guess that’s romantic,” her mom continued on, totally oblivious to Donna’s distress.
“Not to me, Mom. He’s engaged to someone else. To another girl.”
The line went silent. Donna noticed her feet getting wet as the tide kissed her toes.
She looked around. She had been walking without paying attention to where she was going, too absorbed in her conversation. She could no longer see the villa from where she stood.
She looked around at the seafront dotted with little cafés with orange sun umbrellas outside. Tourists were sipping large glasses of pink sangria, looking like they didn’t have a care in the world.
She would have a large jug herself when she was off the phone.
“Mom? Are you still there?”
“Oh Donna, I’m sorry. My poor baby … out there on your own—”
“I’m not on my own,” Donna interrupted, not being able to stand the pitying tone she heard. She knew her mom meant well, but she was already feeling sorry enough for herself; she didn’t her mom throwing her a pity party too. “I’m with José’s family.”
“So are you coming home early?”
“No, I can’t come home yet,” Donna cringed again, knowing the pity party was just getting started.
“Why not?”
“Well … José has asked me to be his best man,” she answered on a deep breath.
Another silence.
“And what did you tell him?” She sounded disbelieving, which was a nice change from the pity.
“I agreed.”
“You what?!” Her mother’s voice became louder and more intense, and Donna knew it was time to end the call before things got even worse.
“Mom, my phone’s about to die so I’ll have to call you back later. Love you … bye …”
Donna hung up the phone, glad to get out of what she was sure was going to be a long, intense conversation. That could wait until she got back home, hopefully.
She looked across the beach, back at the cafés, trying to find a spare umbrella to sit under. She hobbled over and ordered a large jug of sangria, the fruit bobbing on the surface looking fresh and delicious.
Shaking her head to try to clear it of the conversation she’d just had with her mother, she tried to look on the positive side of things. So, you just had your heart broken, she thought. You’re hardly the first woman that’s ever happened to—at least you’re in Spain, surrounded by sunshine and delicious food and drinks.
Firming her shoulders at her little pep talk and determined to still make the most of her trip, she ordered a round of tapas. When the Spanish tortilla came out hot from the oven, dripping with olive oil, and a plate of fresh olives, she nearly started drooling. Who needs a man when you’ve got good Spanish cuisine?
As the sun got low in the sky and the last dregs of sangria finally vanished, Donna decided it was time to leave.
“La cuenta, por favor?” She asked for the bill in shaky, textbook Spanish.
She looked around at the sunbathers packing up, finally losing the battle against the shade. She sighed enviously, knowing sunbathing wasn’t going to be on her itinerary. Unfortunately, she wasn’t one of those women who could get a glowing tan—her skin was pale and turned a ferocious red at the slightest bit of sunshine.
