My Father and My Lover Were Friends and I Didn’t Know It

My name is Mariana, and I had just turned nineteen when all this happened. I have olive-toned skin, dark brown hair that I almost always wear tied back in a loose ponytail, and I’m short: I don’t even reach five foot three. I have soft curves, the kind that made me uncomfortable for a long time and that, over time, I learned to carry with a certain pride. I worked at a neighborhood bakery, kneading dough from dawn, tending the counter, and in the afternoons delivering orders on an old bicycle that squeaked at every bump. It wasn’t anyone’s dream, but it paid my bills and kept my feet on the ground.

Everything changed a couple of months earlier, when I met Gustavo. He was a forty-seven-year-old man, a shift supervisor at a logistics company on the outskirts. Tall, broad-shouldered, with closely cropped hair going gray at the temples and large hands, the hands of someone who had always worked. We crossed paths one noon when his team ordered half a dozen trays of empanadas to celebrate some god knows what. I was the one who made the delivery, carrying the warm boxes pressed against my chest.

When I got to the warehouse reception desk, he was there, signing the delivery note with a half smile that made me nervous for no apparent reason.

—Thanks, gorgeous —he said, and slid me a tip bill that was almost as big as the order.

We chatted while I unloaded the trays. Before I left, he asked for my number.

—For the next order —he joked, but his eyes told a different story.

From that day on we started texting. At first they were innocent messages, then quick dinners when I got off the afternoon shift. Little by little, Gustavo became something I had never had: someone who took me to nice places, who bought me clothes and little pieces of jewelry I would never have been able to afford on my salary. He made me feel desired, looked at in a different way. Our dates always ended with long kisses and caresses that left me trembling in the car seat. He knew exactly where to put his hands, how to wipe away the exhaustion of the whole day in one stroke.

One Friday night he called me, his voice thick with excitement.

—Mariana, there’s a gathering at a friend’s place. People from my world, a barbecue, music. Do you want to come with me? I want to introduce you.

I got excited like an idiot. I’d never been to a grown-up party like that, with his usual crowd.

—Of course —I answered at once.

I put on a dress he had given me: red, fitted at the hips, with a neckline that showed just enough. I lined my eyes carefully and let my hair down so it fell in waves. I wanted to measure up.

***

Gustavo came to pick me up in his dark sedan. As soon as I sat down, he kissed me like he hadn’t seen me in days, his hand resting on my thigh.

—You look incredible —he murmured—. You’re going to drive me crazy tonight.

We drove along the lit avenues, but a few blocks from the house he turned into a dim little street beside a closed park. He turned off the engine.

—I can’t wait to get there —he said, his voice husky.

My heart kicked hard. I leaned over him and undid his belt with clumsy fingers. I freed him from his trousers and took him in my hand, feeling him harden with every caress, thick and hot against my palm.

—Do it, please —he asked, and I didn’t need him to insist.

I lowered my head and took him into my mouth slowly, first the tip, then a little more. I licked him all over, sucked him eagerly, moving my tongue while I listened to his broken breathing. His hand tangled in my hair, setting the pace without forcing me.

—Like that, just like that —he gasped.

I felt him throbbing against my tongue and sped up, salivating, letting myself go with the heat of his arousal and my own. My legs were clenched, my dress hiked up, my whole body lit up in that car in the dark.

Before I lost all control, he lifted my head gently and kissed me hungrily, invading my mouth. He pulled down my neckline and exposed my breasts. He kissed them one by one, catching my nipples between his lips until a moan escaped me and I arched my back against the seat.

—You’re perfect —he whispered against my skin.

But he held back. He pulled himself together with a laugh and helped me fix my dress.

—Save the rest for after the party —he said.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, cheeks burning and his taste still on my lips, and we went on.

***

The house was big, in a quiet neighborhood, with lights hanging in the garden and music coming from the back. Gustavo took my hand and started introducing me to his friends: men his age, beer in hand, talking about work and football. I smiled, feeling a little out of place in my red dress among so many casual shirts.

—This is Mariana, my girlfriend —he said, and everyone greeted me warmly.

And then I saw him.

My father, Ramón, was standing by the grill with a beer in his hand, laughing in a little circle of people. He was wearing his usual plaid shirt. It couldn’t be. What was he doing in that house? Gustavo noticed my face freeze.

—What’s wrong, darling? —he asked.

I didn’t get to answer. My father turned his head and saw us. His eyes went wide, he set the beer down on the table, and he came toward us.

—Mariana! What the hell are you doing here? —he shouted.

I felt the ground open beneath my feet. I didn’t know where to put myself.

—Ramón, old man, you know Mariana? —Gustavo asked, bewildered, squeezing my hand.

—Of course I know her! She’s my daughter —my father roared, his face red with rage.

The whole garden seemed to turn down the volume at once. Everyone was looking.

—What does this mean, Gustavo? Are you dating my daughter? —he went on—. She’s just a kid!

Gustavo went pale.

—Ramón, calm down. I had no idea she was your daughter. We’ve been together a couple of months; this is serious.

My father pointed at him, out of his mind.

—Serious! You’re the same age as me, man. What are you trying to do, buy her with gifts?

I just wanted to disappear. To my father I was still the girl who got up before dawn at the bakery to save up and, one day, go to college.

Gustavo held up his hands, placating.

—Listen, Ramón, it’s not what you’re thinking. Mariana is an adult. I respect her, and it’s her decision.

My father snorted, but two of his friends stepped in between them.

—Come on, Ramón, don’t make a scene in the middle of the party. Talk it out calmly.

They moved off to a corner of the garden, arguing in low voices. I was left alone, trembling, pretending to be interested in a plate of food I didn’t even touch. Snatches reached me: “this isn’t right,” my father said; “it’s her life,” Gustavo answered. In the end they calmed down after a couple of tense pats on the back, but the air was still heavy. The party went on and I barely spoke, avoiding my father’s gaze all night.

***

Hours later, Gustavo told me it was time to go. In the car, the silence weighed like a stone.

—I’m sorry, Mariana. I had no idea —he murmured—. I would never have imagined you were family.

—I didn’t know you were friends —I replied, crushed—. I’m dying of embarrassment.

He stroked my knee.

—You’ll see, it’ll work out.

We arrived at my house, a small apartment near the center. The living room light was on: my father was already back and waiting with his arms crossed. Gustavo left me at the door.

—Goodbye, darling. Call me tomorrow —he said, but I only managed a “good night” in reply.

I went in and my father exploded.

—Mariana, sit down right now! What is this relationship with Gustavo? He’s my lifelong friend and you’re seeing him!

I sat on the sofa, hands in my lap.

—Dad, please, it’s not that big a deal. We’re just dating.

—Just dating? I saw you in his car before you came into the party! What were you doing parked there?

I lowered my gaze, remembering everything that had happened in that side street.

—Nothing bad, Dad. He loves me.

He paced back and forth, unable to sit still.

—He buys you things, doesn’t he? That dress, the shoes, all of it. I thought it was your bakery money, but no. It’s his money!

Tears started rolling down my cheeks.

—Dad, I’m an adult now. I know what I’m doing.

—An adult! He’s a man twice my age, Mariana. End it. I don’t want to see you by his side anymore, do you hear me?

We argued for almost half an hour. He shouted about my future, about how that man was pulling me away from my path. I cried and defended Gustavo, but in the end I gave in, exhausted.

—All right, Dad. I won’t see him anymore.

***

Several weeks have passed since that night. I haven’t spoken to Gustavo again; I blocked his number on my father’s orders, and now he watches every step I take. I’ve gone back to my routine at the bakery, to making deliveries alone on the old bicycle, without gifts and without those kisses that made me forget my fatigue.

Sometimes, when I close my eyes at dawn before the alarm goes off, I can still feel the heat of that car in the dark and Gustavo’s voice telling me I was perfect. It hurts, I won’t deny it. Did I let something go, or did I save myself from something? No one can answer me that.

For now, this is all I have: an affair that started at a counter, ended at the most awkward party of my life, and left me with a lesson I still don’t entirely know if I want to learn.