Torrevieja Contacts
A few days after my arrival to Torrevieja, a coastal town in the province of Alicante, on the Spanish Levant, to spend the summer with my father, who lives there permanently, it occurred to me to go into a cyber and search through the net some ads of women wishing to contact with men in Torrevieja and its surroundings, so I went into the nearest one and typed down in the search space Contacts in Torrevieja and waited. There, of course, appeared many entries about Torrevieja Contacts, of getting-a-date pages. I saw there were a lot of ads of women looking for men in the area of Torrevieja. I took a look throughout the screen rapidly and at once I realized the one on top was very interesting because it began: Elegant and discreet woman… It was what I had reached to read. And seeing that the number of ads from women looking for a man in Torrevieja was endless, I did concentrate on the one on top. I read attentively: Elegant and discreet woman wishes to meet a man in Torrevieja or surroundings to dine, dance and whatever turns out later. I was absorbed for a while reading and rereading and seeing that there was a phone number. I looked everywhere on the screen and realized there was a date also. It was July’s first week and the ad was dated May third. For a moment I thought that, of course, too much time had passed not to be taken advantage of by some rascal, considering the offering size. I had already imagined myself dining with the long neck widow and fleeing away after dessert, while they brought my coffee in a terrace where I could be unnoticed. But it could not be far, because… Depended on the place where she lived, because it was not easy for me to go by bus, or taxi… Well, a taxi… I concentrated on the phone number. The cyber had phone booths too, but I had the precaution of thinking before going into one right away and dial this woman’s phone number, who threatened me with having a menu, what at least, or two dishes and dessert chosen to my liking, that would be better, the truth is, and that when she realized the trick and knew I was not coming back for my coffee would even laugh while thinking This son of a bitch has played the trick to me. At least why not she laughing too, for a certain kind of communion between us will appear laughing one at each other, after the deed already done. This was my first intention. But being better perhaps a longer friendship, for I was going to stay two months more in Torrevieja and nobody knows what will happen when you meet an elegant and discreet woman, I decided to ring her up and ask her to accept an ice-cream, a coffee or a refreshment, or whatever she wanted to have so that we could know each other, that I was inviting, and explain to her the true situation: That I was interested in her ad, that we could meet every day during summer and even go on excursions and that nobody knows what would happen later.
It was then when I realized I was a better person than I thought I was, for there was a big difference between leaving her alone to pay the bill and inviting her to whatever she wanted to have and become friends. I felt a light torpor because of this on getting up to make the phone call, while thinking about the words I would start the conversation with and looking for the owner to warn him by gestures I was going to make a phone call and had finished to use the computer. I guessed a smile on her widow in black winsome face and a wide neckline, well supplied and at the other end’s line.
I dialed the number. I waited preparing a spontaneous Hello. Then I forgot what I had planned to say for a start. Someone picked up the phone at once when the ring had sounded only twice. Hullo. One could listen a voice from a foreign accent mature woman. Hello, I said at once with an elegant blonde-platinum widow in mind.
I…, I said, and tottered for a moment. Well…, the truth… It seemed she listened. But at last I could trace a thread composing a phrase. No name appears in the ad you put down on the net, and I don’t know your name… Listen, I don’t know what ad you are referring to, she said with German accent, which I could make out this time. Are you interested in buying the car? she then asked, and I could hear a sort of grunt, then she interrupted me. I was going to tell her I had seen her ad in the getting-a-date pages searching for Torrevieja Contacts, that it had been only a few days since I had arrived, but I said: My name is Leopoldo and I’d like to invite you… At that moment I heard a male voice near her and she interrupted me again: I haven’t put down any ad on the net. I don’t know what you are talking about. Are you interested in the car? I realized at once that the guy by her side should be thinking someone was calling interested about the car, because I could hear some words that although I didn’t understand I guessed were car’s low prices offers. I knew by then the guy didn’t understand Spanish, and she preferred him not to get to know that I, too, was calling about the damned ad.
She rang off. I don’t know how she dealt with the Russian guy but I don’t think it was difficult, for he would only be interested in selling the old car for once and driving alone a roofless sport car. For some moments I thought I wasn’t lucky, the Russian guy should have been taking advantage of the poor widow since he saw her ad in Contacts and rang her up, the day no other than, I deduced whimsically, a few minutes after she put down the ad on May 17th, so sure I am there are a lot of people looking to see ads like this every a few minutes.
I let some days pass with no profit and got impatient. I didn’t know what to do and always while thinking reminded myself of old German widow. The truth is I could not restrain and entered a cyber and rang her up, for I remembered her phone number by heart. Is the Russian in? I asked when she said Hullo. No, he isn’t in, she replied at once. I was no-words-come-out-now just an instant, at once to know I should be some Marco that had been two days not calling her at times he knew Vladimir wasn’t there. How could you, Marco? You already know he’s still living here but we have nothing to do with each other and soon he’ll be gone away at last. Marco? Are you there, caro mio?
Then I began a discourse again. My name is Leopoldo and I rang you up some days ago… because I would like to meet you… for I have no female friends, added at once during a pause I thought she was going to say something. And the truth is I like women like you. I was going to go on with my flattering when she asked with sudden curiosity: And how am I? I melted down and said: Elegant and discreet. More than sufficient. (She listened and let escape little snorts now and then). Besides, it would be grandiose to meet a woman like you and go out to dine, to dance and to whatever it turns out. Of course, she said. Of course, repeated. You seem very young by your voice. How old are you? Fifty, I said. You are very young. I waited for the important and interesting continuation. The truth is I wouldn’t mind having friends whatever their age is, but… I am something older than you. I wouldn’t mind also having friends although they are some years older than me, I confessed then.
We were at a thronged terrace of a restaurant in Torrevieja with views to an avenue and walls at every side of it, so they would lose your sight right away once you passed the walls in any of both directions. Angela was sort of elegant, wore a generous neckline, seemed she had just come out from the hairdresser and more than sixty. Vladimir was a brute like all Russians. She longed to have him far away once for all, that he only wanted to meet his friends and get drunk every day and drive alone a sport car like a Russian friend of his, to whom she knew this Vladimir admired and envied. Besides he annoyed her by general use every night trying to make love to her. She had given him an expiry date for going away, but Vladimir had feigned he was deaf when this expired. In short, she was hoping he went away soon. Marco was trying, a little, to cheat or take advantage of her and asked me what I thought about it. I don’t know, I said. I don’t know the type, although a little true is, in general, Italians in their twenties and thirties who come nearer to older women than them try to cheat and take advantage of them.
She looked at me with accomplice tenderness and spoke as if we always knew each other and could speak about anything with no impediments, her voice's volume louder than our table’s nearest rumours. No doubt she thought treating me this way I wasn’t going to deny to share the bill, which I had already estimated an astronomic sum, for she asked for two Martinis and soda water before hors-d’oeuvre, and when this arrived I was careful to let her eat as much as me. Then what was I going to order as main course. She was going to order sole, or why not, steak tartar, that she felt like it too. I told her to have both… For dessert she wanted some suggesting ice-cream with banana and good brandy, she was sure they had. If I wanted to, we could later have a cocktail down there, she was sure they made them very good, or at another place if I knew of some other of more, let us say, select atmosphere. For a moment I thought she could be gone before me, that in fact I should be attentive to any attempt.
She had been throughout dinner talking to me very sincerely about everything. Her male and female friends and all the mess they had already done. The truth is only a few could be saved, a faithful well-off close-friend to whom she told absolutely all and two or three ex… Well, two or three because she didn’t know if include one of them among the true ex. No one of her friends could be saved, though she forgave almost them all, for what could she do if she did not. She could stand less some of them, bear very badly another, and there were some already sentenced, amongst them one especially. And then she said as if it didn’t matter: I don’t think this place is too expensive. I hope they won’t charge us too much. And added half-laughing delightedly: It has been a good idea you insisting in our encounter. It is a pleasure when one can talk with confidence to someone intelligent. Yes, I think you are and quite. I thanked her with shrewd awkwardness and said I felt pleased, most of all because the woman who pleased me was also intelligent, and much. She smiled, hiding no doubt the true intention that, like me, I think we all know some women do. Then, without any transition after the mutual pleasantries, she wanted to know if they could give her a cocktail with banana liqueur and good brandy. That they hadn’t such ice cream combination, that that was why she had to choose the dearer finally. I went to speak to the maître because all the waiters were very busy and asked him if it was possible the cocktail Madame wanted. The maître replied By all means. I thanked him and asked to be taken to her after coffees. Then the maître said: Please tell her on my behalf she is invited to cocktail. She is very elegant and beautiful. When I least expect it I realised he was looking beyond my back surprised and expectant and at once Angela appeared behind me.
I was asking the gentleman to tell you I would be delighted to invite you to cocktail. Angela put a badly feigned surprise face. Of course, if Madame accepts... I... would be delighted to... Thank you so much, I would be very pleased. A thousand thanks indeed. You are wonderful. If all men were gentlemen like you the world would be paradise. I had a second to think and decided I couldn’t know if what was happening would be better or worse for me. Then she took the initiative and asked him if the terrace upstairs was open to the public, for a showy cord from one side to the other at first echelon of the stairs impeded passage to the way upstairs.
No, he said, it is not open today. There is not enough clientele these days and the terrace upstairs gives us a lot of work... But I would be delighted to show it to you...if Madame wants me to... of course. Well, I did already know, I said to myself, he has not invited me. Her face showed great interest. Is it good time now? Of course, Madame, how not? Please, call me Angela. Ok, I will, by all means. What’s your name, darling? Enrique, my name is Enrique. Just a moment, please, he said, we shall go upstairs at once. He then put a couple of ice-creams leaflets on a sideboard shelf and caught the eye of a second to warn him he was going to the terrace upstairs to accompany Angela and to bring two tiramisu to table I don’t know the number. And then these two wended towards the stairs on the way to the upper terrace, he putting in its place again the showy cord after them and forgetting me completely.
I lingered speechless by the sideboard not being able to react and began to brood over: I knew it was possible they had already adorned my head, or were about to, or will finally do anyway. In such a state I was when an English girl of about twenty came to the sideboard and took a desserts and ice-creams leaflet and said to me: This is a fine place. The food is quite good and menu price is reasonable. Don’t you think so? Yes, I replied, quite true . What’s your name? Helen. And what’s yours? Leopoldo. This is my first time in Torrevieja. What about you? I always come in summer. Is your mother the woman you are dining with? I said, complicating things joyfully, it was not an unusual relationship in the times running. She looked surprised and for a moment I didn’t know what to say. I had said what I said because I liked the girl and wanted to know by her reaction if she liked me too.
What happened then was that, amongst the murmur of other voices I could clearly hear Angela’s laughing and saying in French How sympathetic you are, darling. I could see from where I was beside the sideboard a corner of the upper terrace and looked at it, and there she was, leaning her back on the handrail and moving her left arm and hand with a style of a lady of the big world.
I then told Helen that my companion had ordered two martinis and soda water before diner, hors-d’oeuvre, more soda water, two very expensive bottles of wine, and why not, sole and steak tartar as main courses, and the most expensive ice cream as dessert. Helen and I were laughing. I continued saying it seemed we had won a fortune in the lottery or the euromillions. Then I was more explicit: I had won a fortune in the euromillions, that I never gambled to lottery. She asked me if it was true . Of course, I said. I asked her if she had known anybody big shot of the euromillions so far. It had been a while we couldn’t stop laughing.
I then said I had seen her seated with three friends at a table near ours. They were precisely looking at us and laughing. They greeted me joyfully waving their hands. Then, not having to sharpen my ears at all, I could hear Angela saying with a strenuous laughter of a gay widow: Darling, Let us go to the small room in there and you’ll kiss me as much as you want. I think Helen heard it too but I doubt she understood anything because Angela spoke in French, and Helen probably didn’t understand Spanish either.
How sympathetic your friends are, I commented. Where do you live? She told me where: Urbanisation, street, number. Welcome any time. There was someone always. I might go next day to bathe and take sun, at midday or afternoon. Then in an obliging impulse I offered to pay their bill. She said no, no truly, that it was very kind of me but she wouldn’t allow me to. I insisted more times uselessly until she accepted liqueur small glasses for her and her friends, so I ordered these to a waiter and paid them to him with the little money I had. She and her friends had paid the bill already but she told me she liked me to insist on inviting them.
You should have not, said Helen when we were alone again. It was not necessary. Don’t worry, my love, I said. I kissed her cheeks. Tomorrow I will pay you a visit. True I can? Of course, of course you can. We would be very pleased. Well, Helen, I said to get ready to flee, I have to go now quickly, I forgot I have to deliver the keys to a neighbour who came tonight... What a head I've got... I will say goodbye to Angela.
She went to her table with her friends and laughed while clearly alluding to my invitation and made to me gestures of gratefulness. I realised I had to sham because I felt myself observed. I turned back and went to the stairs with the false intention of untying the showy cord and going to the upper terrace. Suddenly the lights in the stairs were switched on and I could hear how the two widowed rogues laughed up there and were already making their way downstairs. She said: You are crazy, my love, and laughed while she let him kiss her. I did as if I should not, in case someone was looking at me, and let the showy cord in its place and made my way out through the tables as in a hurry, and as I went by Helen and her friends table, to whom I mimicked What a pity and Tomorrow I will dive into your swimming pool, I could hear from her nearest tables voices saying Look, the boy who won the Euromillions is leaving. I crossed my pace with a waiter who was looking at me with surprised face as I was going down the stairs to the avenue, and I told him: Madame will pay the misses bill, knowing that if the waiter mentioned to his boss my saying to him Madame’s invitation to Helen and her friends’ diner she’d blush and remain stupefied, and when things would have to be clarified Helen and her friends would say they had already paid it themselves and I had invited them to liqueurs small glasses. I was nearly running away at once, although my legs were almost trembling already, but I waited some seconds until I left the wall at the left side of the terrace behind.
While I was running I thought how all the people involved in such a mess of horns and bills would deal with it. Tomorrow I will make inquiries, I said to myself, if I can.
