The guy with the flowers
I had been working for two months for an iraki my age owner of several shops, Alaa Kamil Al-Aasam, Aladino he liked to be called, and his shops had the sign Aladino, Bazaar Aladino. I had begun to work for Aladino when he had three shops in Madrid, in the area where most of bazaars are, Lavapiés, and I had to help in this third, bigger and with room enough to mount a showroom of items Aladino imported from Asia countries and distributed to his and to other shops. After a time he opened up two more shops, in Valencia and in Barcelona. He contracted some other employees, among them a girl with whom I had to stand behind the exhibitors counters to attend the customers. We began to talk in moments we were doing nothing.
Aladino was away in Jordania, Thailand, China and South Korea placing orders of items he distributed in Spain. We had a radio in the shop and Aladino liked to have disco music sounding all the time, thinking it would help in the sales. One day the radio did not work and Raquel brought a little radio-cassette of hers. Mohamed and Abu Riad had left us alone in the shop. I had already listened to the same song Raquel was turning on once and again: Dreamlover, by Mariah Carey. I said to her I liked the song. It’s my favourite, she said. I did not know too much about her until that day we spoke more, and she told me her parents were the porters of the block where she lived.
We were talking and listening Dreamlover once more when a guy dressed as a waiter, black pants and white shirt, came into the shop saying hello and went towards Raquel with a bouquet of flowers, handed the bouquet to her, said to her he loved her and kissed her on both her cheeks. When the guy had gone I asked her about him. He was the kind of guy that takes decisions to be proud of himself, she knew. He was neighbour in the block and he had been always very kind to her, visiting her and her parents at the porter’s flat always he could, and she knew of course he wanted her. The block neighbours were high-middle class and although his parents could afford it the guy wanted to study and work at the same time, did not want to make his parents pay for his expenses, so he was working as a waiter at Chile’s embassy.
She stared at the bouquet rather moved, I noticed. I have to thank him some way, she said. A little moved by the facts too I told her why not going to pay him a visit back at Chile’s embassy. It’s too far away, she said, we are leaving at eight and it will be too late besides. He works till midnight. Well, I said, he will be the happiest man in the world on seeing you there with the bouquet of flowers back to him. I do not know, she said, I cannot be waiting till midnight at the embassy. You don’t have to. It’s only just to let him see you are really grateful to him, such a good boy. She remained thinking and after a while she said with determination: The truth is I know I have to go to see him. All right then, I said, we shall take the underground to the nearest station to Chile’s embassy. I want to go with you. Thanks a lot, Leopoldo, I face it much better knowing you are coming with me.
At eight we went to Embajadores underground station, she carried the bouquet with her. We arrived at Colombia underground station and came out to the street and walked along up to where Chile’s embassy was. Here it is, she said at Chile’s embassy entrance door. Do you want to come upstairs and have something? No, thank you very much. I am happy enough to have been told you knew you had to come and to have kept the eye. Yes, true , I knew I had to come, she said smiling. I shall be waiting till he is off from work. Didn’t I tell you? I asked laughing. She told me once more I was very kind. We said goobye at the entrance door, she went inside with her flowers and I went back towards Colombia underground station to take the underground up to my place, very glad to have done what I had done.
