Chapter Eight: The Worst Date Ever.

He felt ecstatic about what had happened over the last three days and thought he needed a break. Maybe a new idea would help him calm down. But he definitely had to spend at least fifteen days without seeing Patricia to clear his mind. That girl was a whirlwind, and she didn't need to be restless—her mind already was.

Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday passed without much notice. At work, Don Aitor was looking for more producers and only assigned him a couple of episodes of a series not yet aired. Personally, Patricia called him several times on Friday, but he didn't answer. And Rubén invited him to go out on Saturday, but he declined as well.

Sunday broke the monotony a bit when Rubén came over by surprise to stay for lunch. He talked about the get-together and asked about the things Don Aitor and he had been working on. When he explained, his friend wasn't surprised at all.

While Rubén was still at the house, Enric received a call from Patricia and had no choice but to answer. The girl said she was waiting for him at the front door. At that moment, Enric faced a big dilemma: if he let Patricia come up, Rubén would likely uncover the truth, and on the other hand, if he went to talk to Patricia and left Rubén alone, his friend would probably follow him to find out.

He could only order the girl over the phone to wait, handed his friend the portfolio to read in hopes it would buy him time for Patricia to leave, and with Soraya's diary in one pants pocket and the keys in the other, he went down to talk to the girl.

"Tell me." Enric was curt and dry. He was irritated by the situation, unsure if it was because it was unsustainable or because he had agreed to see her after telling himself he needed distance to be consistent with his thoughts.

"Confirmed, you're ignoring me!" Patricia's eyes sparkled like a party sparkler.

"Not at all, but I'm with a coworker and can't attend to you right now!"

"Is that why you don't answer my calls?"

"You don't understand, Patricia, I need a break."

"Then explain it to me, I came specifically for that!"

"I can't, Rubén is waiting for me at home!"

"You can go up to your house, but I'm not moving from here, so you decide."

The dilemma was hard to resolve. Enric shoved his hands into his pockets and felt as if the diary was burning in his pocket.

"I need objectivity right now. And your presence doesn't help."

"Objectivity? HA!" Patricia scoffed. "We were supposedly steering our relationship in the same direction! And now you ask for space—what kind of excuse is that?"

"It's not an excuse at all!" The situation was slipping out of his control like sand through fingers. "I need to think, that's all. Patricia, believe me."

"Fine!" Patricia looked up at the windowsill of Enric's house visible from the street. "Then tomorrow I'll wait for you here when you get back from work and you'll have to explain it to me, Catalan!"

Patricia left without saying goodbye. Her last word hurt him more than he thought. He had never intended to be superior to anyone because of where he came from. She had used that against him, and Enric didn't want that to be her last word.

As he climbed back to his apartment, guilt gnawed at him more strongly. He liked the girl, but she didn't measure her words, just like her sister. When he entered, he found Rubén putting on his coat.

"I suppose Don Aitor will choose whoever he wants to revise the version, but if I may, I'll make a suggestion."

Enric smiled kindly at his friend.

"Do you agree?"

"Thanks."

Rubén finished buttoning his coat:

"Sorry to leave, but I have to go—I'm expecting a call at home."

Rubén left and Enric was alone again. He emptied his pockets—there were the keys and Soraya's tiny diary. He thought that if he read a few pages, maybe he'd understand more about those twins who overwhelmed his life. He took it and began reading from the beginning.

"I know this isn't new to me, you're not the first diary I've written, but you are the first of the new life I want to start. I'm a bit nervous because I signed a contract to draw for one of the country's biggest publishers. I don't know anyone here, not even if I have coworkers. They said they'd use part of what I submitted, but then just told me to draw more—more of what? If I make something worthwhile, I'll bring it to them, but I always go to reception, they send me to the editor, and then I return to the hostel where I sleep."

Enric read slowly, but from what was written, she had just arrived in Barcelona.

"Thanks to the Internet, I met two coworkers at the same publisher—one is a writer and the other an illustrator, like me! The writer said she doesn't live here, she's Galician and sends texts by email. The illustrator draws much better than I do and is Catalan. I asked her to show me Barcelona and she agreed—tomorrow I'll tell you what I discover."

Soraya's first friend in Barcelona, but nothing about what she left behind in Madrid. Enric began to feel frustrated.

"Sorry I took so long to write, especially since I said I'd tell you the next day. It's amazing! If I had to describe it in one word, I'd say bohemian. The sea is beautiful, the views unlike anything I know, and the climate much milder than in the center of the peninsula."

Enric soon tired of reading, and it was only five pages. If there was nothing more, he'd leave it for another day.

"Finally, they assigned me something! I have little imagination, so I borrowed some memories from my mind. I miss them, but neither Eva nor Patricia will come back. I know I shouldn't say it—I swore I wouldn't look back—but I miss my parents. I guess if I explain my reasons to them, I can keep talking to them."

Enric then remembered Patricia mentioning something about it but claiming it was a friend acting as an intermediary. If it was Soraya and not someone else contacting them, how come the parents didn't know about Enric, nor Enric about them?