“Lita,” I pleaded, cutting her off. “It’s not the airline’s fault. I changed my ticket.”
Her string of rapid-fire Spanish was completely lost on me, even more so when it devolved into French. I might be the spitting image of my grandmother—jet-black hair, long and straight; round green eyes; perpetual dimples—but she grew up in Barcelona and I grew up in Montecito. We’re from two different worlds.
Her voice softened. “I don’t understand. If there’s an issue with the travel days or…”
Her sentence dwindled as I tried to regain my courage.
“Can I trust you?” I asked quietly.
“Of course.” Her tone hardened with suspicion. “Mi niña, what’s going on? Is there trouble with you? All these months I’ve been expecting you here. I can’t wait to see you.”
I sighed, purposefully pushing aside the niggling guilt her words were spurring in me. “I want to see you, too. I miss you so much, and Iwillcome visit you, but… I have this plan.”
She hmmed. “What plan? It sounds interesting.”
I smiled, knowing if anyone was going to cheer me on in this wild endeavor, it would be Lita. “I want to go to Ibiza. I want to spend my summer there, for Winnie.”
“Oh.” I could hear her heartache in that word. Then, a moment later, “You should, Isabel. Ibiza is so special. You know I love that island. I spent a lot of time there as a girl, traveling with Dolores before I met your Tito. You remember my stories?”
I laughed, recalling all the times she spoke of her youth, recounting how the men would crowd around when she and her best friend, Dolores, danced in their flamenco dresses. The way she tells it, she could have made any man fall in love with her, but she wasn’t interested in that. She and Dolores wanted to be rebels, uninhibited and wild during a time when women in general had very few freedoms, and I’ve always admired that about her.
“Yes, I remember. Your Ibiza stories are legendary. What was that one about you and Dolores trying to make secret sangría in a huge bucket out in your father’s shed? And one of your goats ended up drinking half of it?”
She hissed a warning. “Don’t force me to regret telling you so much. Now, do your parents know of this plan of yours?” she asked carefully.
“No. And I won’t tell them. My mom wouldn’t be happy. She’d try to talk me out of it, and even if they did end up giving me their blessing to go, they would find a way to ruin it somehow.”
In some ways I feel bad that my parents still don’t know I’m on Ibiza, but I’m not a child; I don’t live under their roof, and it’s been years since I’ve had to get their permission for things. Besides, for all intents and purposes, the current situation isn’tso different than if I was going to be with my grandmother all summer as planned. Only instead of strolling through museums in France with Lita, I’ll be bikini-clad on a beach on Ibiza.
“Then it’s our secret,” my grandmother confirmed. “I won’t say a word, but my silence comes with strings.”
They didn’t sound like very difficult requirements: checking in with her at least once a week and giving her updates about how I’m doing, hence why she’s chiding me over the phone right now.
“What have you done since you arrived?” she asks me now. “How many men have you been with? Is that why you’re calling me so late?”
“LITA!”
“Please.” She laughs. “You expect me to think you aren’t being a little wild? I’d be disappointed if you said no. You could have come and stayed with me if you wanted a lazy summer.”
My cheeks burn with embarrassment as I look at the people around me, hoping they can’t hear her end of the conversation. For some reason I suddenly think of the man from last night, the dark-haired devil at Aura. I’m almost tempted to tell Lita about him, but what is there to tell?
“There’s been nothing.” I clear my throat. “No men, yet.”
“You disappoint me,” she says, solemn and severe.
I almost laugh.
“If I sleep around, I could get pregnant out of wedlock,” I point out in a hushed tone, knowing the threat would send most of my friends’ grandmothers to an early grave.
Not mine.
“Ah, mon bébé. I’d welcome a little fille. With your eyes?” She sighs as if she’s imagining it.
“Oh god,stop. I’m not getting pregnant. Listen, I can’t talk long. I have to find a job today.”
And not justanyjob, a job at Aura. I should be there already.
“You’re going to work? On the island?” She sounds shocked.
