Saturday. My first Saturday after working for three days straight. My body is used to everything, the weather, the brightness at night and the darkness in the morning, the streets, the language. My mind, on the other hand, is still processing the fact that I'm finally in Barcelona.
Day after day I found myself doing different things. Since I started working in the gallery, I had a lot to learn about the art movement here. I have made a small research of new artists in the area and at least two of them are interested in doing a showing in the gallery. Also, Paulina told me she is planning on doing a Wine&Art night in two weeks, that's keeping me busy.
So busy that right now I'm in front of a laptop in my day off looking for a catering service that we can afford. It's not a good idea to have people drinking wine on an empty stomach around a thousand euros paintings.
Right now, I'm sitting in a bistro I found two days ago, just one street away from my place. I'm with Carla, my friend that joined our group through Europe. She's going to help me with the opening, she knows more about the people around here than me. We're talking about the right choice of cheese with the right wine. The waiter suddenly bring us two tomato soups from the house because they have noticed we have been drinking non-stop for the past two hoyrs, I love this place even more. It's nice, mostly quiet and it has decent Mojitos.
We both finish our soups and drinks and she offers to pay, saying that it's a pleasure to invite her friend while she gets paid on her first job here. I thank her and after a final chat, we say goodbye. We walk in different ways and I'm glad, I can observe better when I'm alone.
The chilly wind from the night makes me close my arms in my chest while I walk, I'm only wearing a simple black dress and comfortable sandals.
In the walk, I see different people walking as well. Some of them looking like they're just starting the night and some other like me, going back home because the night ended for us. I look at a couple in particular, only because they're walking right in front of me in the same direction, also it makes me kind of jealous.
They are about my age. Him, tall with brown unruly hair, a leather jacket and washed jeans. And her, a very girly dress that dances in the wind. They look like they are very in love, they stop every other second to eat each other in kisses. He tells her he loves her and she kisses him in response. He isn't shy and holds her butt in public and she laughs, they are carefree.
Just looking at them make me feel jealous of not having someone to be carefree with. I can't lie, I think of green eyes but I'm not letting myself think of him, so I push the thought away.
I pass by them when they stop, me holding a smile. For some reason that couple inspires me to draw them, they are very peculiar. If I can't have something like this, at least I will express myself on it.
Finally I arrive home and I kick my shoes away, getting my drawing notepad and my pencils. I place my things on the table and sit down, already making the figurines to draw that couple.
I get lost, easily. When I'm happy, it feels like my hand is dancing along with the paper, the pencil flows naturally. And when I'm drunk, it feels like my hand is making love with each streak, and right now I'm bot happy and drunk.
I start with her dress, making sure it's the right length for her legs to show. It's dancing in the air, just like hers did. Then, I focus on him, not putting a lot of detail on his clothes but a very lot on his face. Then, I focus in their kiss. The kiss has to be perfect. They're both smiling cheekily, waiting for the kiss to happen.
Then, in the corner of the page, I re-draw their faces in the kiss. His hand is grabbing her face passionately. She smiles while he kisses her, her hair flowing in the air as well.
I want to give them more detail, so I draw the next scene, this time the girl is against a wall and the man is grabbing her leg, like I saw him do. I don't know how much time passed, but when I move the pencil up and away from the paper to check on the proportion of their bodies, I hear a knock on my door. I stay on the chair, it's the first time I hear a knock on my door and right now it's past ten, it's very late.
Then, I remember I told Tenorio there was something wrong with the faucet in the bathroom. Maybe he came earlier but I wasn't home. I'm sure he can fix it in no time, it's just something with the water pressure.
I stand up and get the door, yawning and realizing how tired I am.
"Tenorio?" I open the door, a smile on my face that soon erases because it's not Tenorio.
I have to hold on tight on the door to not lose my balance. Just when I promised myself to push the thoughts of him away and now looking at him right in front of me, it confuses me. I'm sure my face says it all because it invites him to speak.
"Surprised to see me?" He says, half a grin on his face.
I stand on my spot, my mouth wide open. I look around the hallway, I don't know, making sure I'm not imagining this just because I'm drunk. I close my mouth and then frown in confusion.
"What... How..." I start wandering, trying to speak but my heart rate doesn't let me. "What are you doing here?"
Harry smiles, fully this time. This time I move my eyes all over him, this is really him. He is here, in front of me, in front of my apartment and here, in Barcelona.
I can't help but stare. His hair is short, shorter than a week and a half ago. He is wearing a hoodie and a coat over it, it's not even that cold. He has only a bag hanging from his shoulder and that same look he had when we encountered after those long months.
Images of our last day together, his naked skin, the wedding, his family, Edinburgh, the road trip, his lips on me in that stance in the motel, that tiny moment when I took his glasses off in the gas station, it all comes back to me. He is here.
And after what felt like a little eternity, he answers my question.
"I didn't want us to stay unfinished." He presses his lips into a smile.
To be continued...