Chapter 29
So I pull on a pair of shorts. I wriggle into a T-shirt. I step into my sandals, and out from under my cloud into another teal-tinged, tropical day. I can miss him without crying about it into my diary in scented purple pen like a lovesick sophomore, and I’ll be jostled through airport hell back into my real life in due time. Of all the things a person could waste a month longing to rush back to, paying rent he can’t afford and ironing an interview suit he’s liable to have beer-bellied himself out of are two of the least satisfying I can imagine, so I set off down the hill intent on living for the day.
It’s rare to find Milton at the bar early in the day, but Carlotta has risen and shone, as is her habit, and fairly skips out to greet me. We trade kisses and she glances over my shoulder. “?Ya se fue?”
I nod. “He’s gone.”
She makes big sad eyes, then invites me to sit. “Would you like some breakfast?”
“What I’d love is some coffee,” I tell her. “With milk?”