The apartment seems more familiar than before, but that is probably because I was here yesterday.
Mateo’s phone rings, and he turns to me.
“Hi, Daniela,” he says. “Yes, I’m with Florian now. No, his parents aren’t here. It’s just me.”
For some reason, his cheeks are pinker than before. Perhaps the apartment is too warm.
I go to the sofa and find the remote control for the thermostat in the drawer under the coffee table. I click on the remote control and make the temperature lower.
Mateo looks at me with a strange expression on his face, then joins me on the couch.
“I’ll let him know, Daniela. I have to go.” He clicks thephone off. He’s still staring at me in that same manner. “How did you know the remote control was there?”
“It’s always—” My words trail off. “I remembered.”
“That’s great, Florian. Really.” His lips are stretched extra wide, but part of him seems frightened.
And then I get it.
I remembered the location of the remote control, but not him.
How could I have forgotten my wonderful, utterly fantastic boyfriend, and remembered where I keep the remote control for the thermostat instead?
“I am sorry I did not remember you first,” I say.
“That’s not your fault,” Mateo says firmly.
“You are very important to me. I-I hope you can forgive me.”
Mateo looks alarmed, then he takes my hands in his.
“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, Florian. Nothing.” His voice is passionate, like he’s about to give a speech to a bunch of coal miners in nineteenth-century England, like my history teachers used to talk about.
“You are very kind.”
Mateo sighs. “All I want is for you to be well.”
“I remembered the remote control.”
“Yes, that’s great.” He glances at me, like he wants to say something. His leg bounces up and down, and I reach over to his leg. I stroke it carefully, and his leg halts its furious jiggle.
He turns to me. He looks so beautiful. His cheeks are pale pink, and his long lashes flutter.
“I want to kiss you,” I tell him.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Florian.”
“Because I don’t remember you?”
“You might not like the version of me you eventually remember.”
I shake my head. “That is impossible.”
“You are a wonderful man. I might disappoint you.” He chews his lower lip. “I’ll disappoint you.”
I frown, and Mateo reaches up to my face. He moves his hand with care, as if he is wiping away every line.
“I don’t always know the right thing to say,” Mateo says. “I’ve made mistakes. And I apologize in advance.”
