I Called Him Drunk at Three and Confessed Everything

At that exact instant my whole body was trembling. Rage climbed up my throat and made my teeth chatter, as if an impossible cold were racing through my veins instead of the summer heat. I was sitting on the edge of the pool, my feet in the lit water, desperately searching my memory for any way to regain my composure before doing something stupid.

And then your voice played inside me, clear as a bird’s whistle at dawn.

I didn’t think. I reached for my phone in my bag, swiped a finger across the damp screen, and dialed your number. It was three in the morning. The first thing I heard was a long yawn, then your hoarse voice asking who the hell was calling at that hour. I laughed to myself in the dark. I smiled like an idiot.

—Hi, how are you? —I whispered, trying not to let the tremor show.

I heard a little laugh on the other end, that low, lazy laugh of yours, and you told me you’d just gotten out of the shower. I felt the rage evaporate all at once. As if I myself were turning into those tiny droplets of water, so light they were almost imperceptible, lifting off the steam and disappearing into the air.

Yawning again, you asked what I was doing awake.

—Drinking a little —I said.

Maybe an entire bottle.

—And is that rum any good? —you asked.

At that point you barely knew me; we’d spent a month crossing paths in the office hallways and sharing a couple of lukewarm coffees. But I felt, with absurd certainty, that you’d known me all your life.

—Hey, sorry for interrupting you —I murmured—. I just wanted to hear your voice.

—Why? —your tone changed, more awake now, more attentive.

—Because every time I hear it, every time I see your smile... not that closed, polite smile you wear in meetings —I made a grimace of annoyance you couldn’t see—, but the other one, the one where your teeth show and your eyes narrow.

I drew in a breath. The pool water lapped at my ankles.

—I see your hands. How funny those glasses always look sliding down your nose. And I calm down, Nico. I don’t know how you do it, but I calm down.

On the other end there was only silence, a silence that wasn’t awkward but full, like when someone holds their breath so as not to break a moment. I imagined your face in the dimness of your room, the towel still over your shoulders, your hair dripping down your neck. I imagined you smiling without meaning to smile. I held the sweaty glass against my chest and felt the cold of the glass seep through the wet fabric of my swimsuit.

Without realizing it, I closed my eyes. On the other end of the line I heard you clear your throat, as if you didn’t know what to do with what I’d just said. Behind me, the music kept playing, voices were laughing in the distance, but all of it reached me muffled, as if I were underwater.

—Don’t worry —I said quickly, before I could regret it—. I won’t bother you anymore.

I signaled to the guy at the bar to pour me another glass. My voice came out smaller than I intended.

—Can you wish me goodnight?

—Goodnight, Renata.

—Goodnight, Nico.

I was about to pull the phone away from my ear when you spoke again. You called me by name, softly, and I stopped.

—Tell me.

—Why me? —you asked—. Of everyone at that party, why are you calling me?

I took a long sip of the freshly poured drink, not knowing how to answer you. The ice knocked against my lips. I took so long to reply that you thought I’d hung up.

—I don’t know —I said at last—. You just make me feel calm. You seem so warm to me that I still don’t understand how anyone could want to humiliate you, get your hopes up and then leave you hanging. Just your presence lights up the place and you don’t even realize it.

I paused. My heart was pounding in my ears louder than the music.

—I hope one day you find someone who’ll stay with you without conditions, without games, without fine print. —I swallowed—. I’d love to be that person.

And I hung up before hearing your answer. Before giving you the chance to ruin it.

***

I opened my eyes slowly. It took me a second to understand what I was seeing. There was no one left in the pool, no one at the bar, no one dancing around the speaker. Everyone was forming a semicircle around me, watching in silence, their faces somewhere between amused and bewildered, as if they had just witnessed something they still couldn’t quite believe.

The man who had been bothering me all night, the same one who half an hour earlier had said things to me that made my blood boil, was sitting right beside me. His face was flushed and his eyes were glassy. I watched him swallow, force out a smile that wouldn’t quite form, and lift his glass to clink it against mine.

—I hope you have a good time with him —he said thickly.

He rested his elbow on his knee and leaned toward me.

—Don’t forget to invite me to your wedding.

I asked him what the hell he was talking about. My head was spinning; the rum and the confession had mixed together in my chest. He tilted his head with theatrical slowness and showed me his phone screen.

In the photo I was there. Tanned, with my swimsuit still damp and my wet hair falling over my shoulders. I held the phone to my ear with my right hand while my left played with the rim of the glass. My eyes were closed and there was a mischievous smile on my mouth, and some strange glow, something I had never seen on myself, crossed my face and made me look different. It made me look beautiful.

I didn’t remember anyone taking that photo. I didn’t remember being so surrendered, so defenseless, in front of all those people.

I kept staring at the screen longer than I should have. In that image I wasn’t the furious woman who had sat on the edge of the pool wanting to smash a bottle over someone’s head. I was someone else, softer, truer, someone who had spent months hiding behind lukewarm coffees and the polite smiles of office life. I recognized myself in her and, at the same time, I felt a little frightened by how much of everything showed on me.

A shiver ran down my back despite the heat. I had poured my whole chest out over the phone, out loud, in front of strangers. And I hadn’t even noticed.

—You were... —the man searched for the word—. You were radiant. It was enviable.

He laughed bitterly and knocked back his drink in one gulp.

Before I could answer, a hand settled on my bare shoulder. Warm, firm, with those fingers I had described a little earlier without knowing someone was listening. I turned slowly.

Adrián, the host of the party, the owner of the house, was standing behind me. He smiled with unsettling calm, the kind of smile that belongs to someone who already knows how the story ends. He bent down until he was at my height, took my chin between two fingers, and kissed my cheek, very close to the corner of my lips. His breath smelled of mint and something darker.

—Look at you —he murmured, brushing his thumb over my damp bangs—. You haven’t even started and you already know it’s yours.

I felt his voice vibrating at the nape of my neck. I couldn’t tell if it was praise or a warning.

—I’m not following —I said, though something inside me was beginning to understand everything.

Adrián sat down on the sun lounger beside me without taking his eyes off me. The pool threw back our trembling reflections.

—What happened tonight was no accident, Renata. —He spoke softly, just for me—. The idiot who got into your head, the bottle of rum that showed up just when you needed it, the photo. I wanted to see what you were capable of when you thought no one was watching. And, damn, did I see it.

I swallowed. My heart had sped up again, but this time it wasn’t rage. It was that uncomfortable, delicious mix of shame and excitement I never know how to name.

—And what did you see? —I asked, hating myself a little for how thin my voice sounded.

—I saw a woman who strips herself bare for a single voice on the phone. —He leaned closer until his mouth was a breath from my ear—. I wonder what you’d do if that voice were standing in front of you.

I felt the heat rising up my neck, my cheeks, behind my ears. The wet dress clung to my body and, all of a sudden, every centimeter of fabric bothered me. I thought of Nico, of his lazy laugh, of his hands. I thought of what I had just confessed without meaning to. And I thought that maybe it was already too late to pretend I didn’t want someone to take me at my word.

You haven’t even started and you already know it’s yours.

The phrase kept turning over in my head while Adrián waited, patient, for an answer he already knew. The music had started up again. People had drifted away. And I was still clutching the phone, still hot, with Nico’s name glowing on the screen and the temptation to dial again.

I don’t know at what point I decided that night I was going to confess everything. Not just over the phone. Not just with words.

I stood up, set the glass on the edge of the pool, and held Adrián’s gaze. My legs were trembling, but not from fear.

—Show me that photo again —I said.

And for the first time all night, I was the one smiling, knowing how the story ended.