Translation of Love - By Alice Montalvo-Tribue Page 0,52
of his nose between his fingers.
“Are you back together with Christina, Victor?”
His head shoots up and his eyes meet mine. “What? No, Babe!”
“Then why were you with her two days after you left me in Jersey?”
“Christina is an entertainment news reporter for a Spanish news station. She found out that my contract is up with my record label and she’s trying to get me to give her an exclusive interview regarding what my future plans are. She called me on Tuesday, asked me if I’d have lunch with her. She said she had to talk to me about something important. I went, but nothing happened Babe. Lunch lasted an hour tops and I was out of there.”
The anger slowly starts to dissipate, for whatever reason, I believe him. It seems like a plausible story.
“Are you giving her the exclusive?”
“Fuck no! I’m not giving her anything. I haven’t seen or heard from her in over a year and all of a sudden she wants to be my new best friend.” This makes me smile. “Besides, I wouldn’t want my beautiful girlfriend to get the wrong idea,” he says, pushing a loose piece of hair behind my ear.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whisper, showing more vulnerability than I’d like.
“Honestly, what was I gonna say, Love? I didn’t really think it was a big deal. I can see now that I was wrong. I have no intentions of seeing her again, okay?”
“She’s beautiful.”
“Yes, she is. She’s also cold, controlling and more worried about her career than anything else. She doesn’t compare to you. I want you, don’t doubt that.”
He’s given me more of an explanation than is necessary. I know he’s trying to make me feel better, and for the most part he’s succeeded. I just can’t stop thinking about his mother. How can anything ever work between us when the woman so clearly despises me?
“There’s something else bothering you.” I sit up all the way and nod my head. “What is it?”
I take a deep breath. Normally I wouldn’t be honest about something like this, but I’ve spent too much of my time making excuses for others and putting up with shit that I shouldn’t. I’m not doing that anymore. “Your mother hates me.”
“What did she say to you?”
“She said that it was a little bit too early for us to be having sleep overs and that you were fickle when it came to your women anyway.”
He let out a chuckle. “First of all, it’s none of her business what we do. Second, she said I’m fickle to piss you off, and third, she hates everyone. She’ll get over it.”
I shake my head like a crazy woman. “How can you be so calm about this? She’s your mother and you’re basically telling me she’s trying to turn me against you. I’m sorry, Babe, but you know she left that article on the table, right?”
“I know.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Sometimes my mom lets the line blur between being my manager and being my parent. It’s not you that she hates, Babe. It’s what she thinks you represent.”
“And what is that?”
“The end of my career. All of a sudden, I’m more and more adamant that I’m done after this album and I happened to meet you around the same time.”
“So she thinks I’m the reason you want to give it all up.”
“Yes. I’ll talk to her. I don’t want you to concern yourself with it. I’ll deal with her.”
“No! If you say something to her, she’s gonna know I said something to you.”
“Ellie, I have eyes. I saw how cold she was toward you. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t stand up for you? Is that the kind of guy you’d want to be with?”
“No, I guess not.” He was right. I’d want a man to protect me and defend me. Not one that would break me down and let me deal with problems all on my own.
He cups my face between his hands. “You alright now?”
“Yeah, I’m alright.”
He places a kiss on my forehead and releases me. “Good. Now that we’re talking about this stuff, can I ask you a question?”
I hate when people ask me that. “Yes.”
“What happened to you to make you so closed off?”
I tense up at his question. “What do you mean by that? I’m not closed off.”
“Hmm, let’s see. You cringe every time I call you beautiful, you never talk about your past, and you try to keep me at arm’s length.