TLO Chapter 14

 Chapter 14

For two weeks, Lars didn’t make a single remark about his marriage proposal -proposal that was rejected on the spot- so foolish me thought it was nothing but something said in the heat of the moment. 

Right. As if I don’t know better. 

Alvaro phoned me one morning Lars had taken his plane to Massachusetts for a whole week and “left” me in London. I should have hung up the phone the minute I saw his name on the screen but it already has been well established that I’m a total idiot. 

My brother was joyous, exultant and kissing the moon because of my upcoming marriage. Wasn’t he not even five years ago marching against gay marriage? Yes, he was but money isn’t homophobic and as Lars says, one million and you get communion from the Pope himself. I always wondered if my brother was attending those demonstrations with his boyfriend and “business” partner. 

If he had hit the pot of gold with his marriage, I was snatching the whole rainbow with the (cat)fish I had caught. 

“I don’t know from where you got that, but I’m not marrying anyone,” I told him and I heard his gasp, maybe the early sign of a premature stroke. 

“What? You’re not marrying?” He took a deep, calming breath in… but it was useless. “Are you fucking nuts?” He yelled from his ivory office in posh downtown Madrid. 

“Did you ask dad his opinion before you got dragged into this mess?” Nothing like calling the heavy guns in. Alvarito was terrified of dad (and he should be) “Or the sandwich maker?” Loyola’s husband was a way more recalcitrant conservative than dad; There were one or two people in our glorious linage that went the other way but those parvenues didn’t have enough noblesse as to turn a blind eye to it. They just sat (once) next to the old Duchess of Alba in a Legionarios meeting and now they believed that the road to nobility was through sticking their noses where nobody ever asked them to. 

“It’s different,” Alvarito said with the dignity of a Spanish conquistador. 

Of course it’s different; sandwich caterers have millions and Lars billions. Funny how a single letter can move mountains no matter how high they are. 

TLO Chapter 13

 Chapter 13

Blue eyes of the bluest blue. That’s the first thing I saw when I woke up. Then came the rest; expensive tweed jacket and brown trousers, white hairs, lots of wrinkles and an inquisitive look. 

“Let me see your eyes again,” he said and a hunch told me that the old man was Lars’ father. Same voice and a certain family air between them. Both are bossy because I obeyed without thinking it twice. I opened wide. 

“Is that your natural hair colour?” He asked me after a  thorough inspection of me. 

“Yes, it is.” I answered a bit intimidated. 

“One could say that you’re an albino but with its characteristics turned down.” He released my chin and went back to sit in his chair next to my bed. “Very rare, indeed.” 

“I’m Dr. Martin Berggren, nice to meet you. Lars told me you’d be here.”