I Accepted My Former Boss’s Offer at Sixty

Things were not going well for Remedios and Andrés. The mortgage went up every year, their daughter’s studies away from home ate up their salary, the bills piled up, and the car, already old, only brought trouble. Making ends meet was an odyssey, even with the help Andrés’s mother brought them almost every month. The two of them were already past sixty, and although they were still working, the aches and pains were noticeable when it came to effort.

Remedios cleaned for a wealthy couple. A huge house, three stories, with a garden and a porch. There she did everything: beds, floors, washing machines, ironing, shopping, taking the children to and from school and, lately, even walking the dogs. The lady was not a good person, at least not with her. She woke up angry with the world and someone had to pay for it. More often than not, it was Remedios.

The gentleman was another story. Bruno was kind, polite, never raised his voice. It was always “don’t worry, Remedios” or “do what you can.” They got along well, with respect. So when she could no longer stand the situation, neither physically nor mentally, the first person she spoke to was him.

—Excuse me, sir, I’d like to talk to you —she said one morning, drying her hands on her apron.

—I’m all ears, Remedios. Don’t tell me you’ve had trouble with my wife again.

—Not exactly. But I’m going to be sixty-two and this is too much for me now. Going up and down so many stairs, doing so much in so little time, and on top of that the daily arguments with madam… They’re wearing me out. I don’t come to work happy anymore. I’ve decided to leave.

—What? Don’t even think about it. I’ll raise your salary. What can’t be done today can be done another day.

—That’s what you say. The lady doesn’t think the same. My mind is made up, I’m sorry.

Bruno gave her a few days to find someone else. During that week he treated her more affectionately than ever, almost with excessive fondness. They were a young married couple: he was thirty-four, his wife one year younger. It’s clear he doesn’t want anything with me, Remedios thought, but I don’t deserve so much attention either.

***

Andrés worked for a small computer and telephone company. There were only three of them, including the boss. He was happy there; the job didn’t kill him and he even liked it, but the pay was very tight and a bit of extra money never hurt.

That week it was Mr. Eustaquio’s turn to clean the building stairs. He lived on the same landing as Remedios and Andrés, on the second floor: two apartments per floor, three stories, and no elevator. The neighbors had agreed to take turns cleaning to keep the community fees down. Mr. Eustaquio was going to turn eighty the following year, so when it was his turn, Remedios did the stairs for him out of kindness, charging him nothing. He thanked her with little gifts: a potted plant, some flowers for the doorway, once even a piece of ham.

—There’s no need to give me gifts, sir. I do it from the heart.

—I know, Remedios, but I’d be ungrateful if I didn’t show my appreciation. And I’d give you more, beautiful one.

It sounded like courtship to her. Remedios hadn’t felt desirable in a long time. She was short, plain-faced, with a nose that seemed too big to her, and the years had added pounds. She had always had a big bust, but now it seemed excessive to her. She had a belly, wide hips, and a body she herself looked at with resignation. There’s a lid for every pot, she thought, half joking.

—Lately I see you around here more often —the old man went on—. Have you taken a vacation?

—No. I left the job I had.

—Well now. I don’t know whether to be sorry or glad.

—Why would you be glad?

—Because I need a woman to help me with things around the house. I’m going on eighty, I live alone and I don’t manage well. If you’re free, I’d like to hire you.

They talked over the conditions and reached an agreement. Remedios would have a new job, more comfortable: a small flat on her same landing and well paid. She couldn’t ask for more. She went into her house happy. Then her mobile rang. It was Bruno, her former boss.

—Hello, Remedios.

—Hello, Bruno. What’s going on?

—Nothing, don’t worry. I’d like to talk to you about something, but not by phone. When could I invite you for a coffee?

In the afternoons she was starting with Mr. Eustaquio, so that left her free only in the mornings.

—Well, it would have to be in the morning.

—Tomorrow at ten?

—All right.

He told her the café and they hung up. Remedios was left uneasy. She didn’t know what he wanted to talk to her about. She had already made it clear she wasn’t going back, especially not with his wife in the middle.

***

That night she went to bed alone, as almost always. In summer, because of the heat; the rest of the year, because Andrés snored like a truck. They’d had little to talk about for a long time, they didn’t go out together, and sex was once a month if she was lucky, and almost out of duty. He spent his free time with the saxophone, his great passion, and she spent her days alone.

The next morning she put on makeup as she hadn’t done in a long time. She had no elegant clothes, and few things suited her, but she wore what she liked best and headed out to what seemed like a date without actually being one. Bruno was already waiting, seated. When he saw her come in, he smiled, and she smiled back. They hugged for a long time; he pressed her against his body and brushed her cheek with a kiss dangerously close to her lips. Remedios blushed.

—Well, let’s hear it. What’s this pleasant surprise about?

—Because I knew I’d miss you, Remedios, but I hadn’t imagined how much.

—Oh, Bruno, you’re going to make me blush.

There was no need: she already was, and not a little.

—Don’t get nervous, woman. It’s just that we had such a good relationship, and so many years…

—That’s true, but I’ve already made up my mind and there’s no going back.

—I’m not here for that.

—Then what?

—It’s something else, and I’m telling you with all respect, with no intention of offending you. You know it: my marriage is no bed of roses, and I have a lot of shortcomings. I wanted to ask if we could see each other a couple of times a week.

Remedios was no longer blushing; she was deathly pale.

—See each other for what, Bruno?

—I’d like to sleep with you. You always seemed like a very desirable woman to me. And I’d pay you well, very well.

Remedios’s hands were trembling.

—But, sir, forgive me. I’m a married woman of more than forty years, I’m about to turn sixty-two. I’ve never cheated on my husband. I don’t know any man other than him. How could I do that?

—By freeing your mind and letting yourself go. You know I’ll treat you well, you know me, nobody will find out, and your finances will improve a lot. Think about it. When you decide, tell me.

Bruno stood up, left her another kiss near the lips, and walked away.

***

Remedios got home in a daze. She had to prepare Andrés’s lunch and, in the afternoon, start with Mr. Eustaquio. At the old man’s place she dropped a vase, then a cup.

—Forgive me, Mr. Eustaquio. I’m not having a good day today.

—Don’t worry, Remedios. Here you don’t have to give explanations.

But her mind wouldn’t stop. That very night, from home, she wrote Bruno a message.

—Hi. I thought about it. I have many doubts, but I accept if we try it and, if I don’t feel good, we stop and nothing will have happened.

—Of course. Delighted. Tomorrow, the first time?

—It will have to be in the morning. Where should I go?

—Nowhere. I’d like it to be at your place, if possible.

Her nerves came back. In the morning there would be no one there: Andrés was working, their daughter studied away from home. She had imagined a hotel, some random room, not her own bed. Even so, she replied.

—All right. At my place.

—Tomorrow at ten I’ll be there.

That afternoon she showered and looked at herself naked in the mirror. She didn’t see herself as attractive, and much less able to appeal to a young, handsome man with money, who could have any woman he wanted. With those thoughts she got into bed, alone as always, and sleep was impossible.

***

She got up early, had breakfast, put on lipstick, a little blush, and the prettiest underwear she owned. When the intercom rang, she opened without asking and waited for him at the door.

—Hello, Bruno. How are you?

She closed the door and he wasted no time. He kissed her hungrily, burying his hands in her hair, tracing her neck with his lips. Remedios’s legs were trembling. For years no one had touched her like that, with hunger, as if they truly desired her. Bruno led her toward the hallway.

—Is this the master bedroom?

—No.

—I want to go to the master bedroom, please.

She guided him there without stopping to think why he’d made such a whim. On the bed, he was slow at first and ravenous afterward, attentive to every reaction of her body, whispering that she was beautiful, that he had spent months imagining that moment. Remedios closed her eyes and let herself go. She didn’t remember the last time anyone had made her feel anything like it. She moaned, not recognizing her own voice, clutching the sheets, and when pleasure overwhelmed her she let out a cry that surely could be heard throughout the whole building.

Afterward he kissed her forehead, said “thank you” and “see you soon,” left some bills under the photo of the married couple that sat on the bedside table, and left. Remedios lay there, happy and confused. A man doesn’t make love to a woman like that unless he feels something, she thought. And for a moment she believed she was falling in love.

***

And so time passed. Bruno came twice a week, and she regained the will to live and to feel like a woman. Everything seemed wonderful. Or so she thought.

One afternoon, at Mr. Eustaquio’s place, the old man called her from the living room.

—Remedios, lately I see you more beautiful than ever.

—Oh, sir, don’t say those things. I’m the same as always.

—I like you better. And I know very well why.

—Mr. Eustaquio, you know I’m a married woman.

—Just as well as you do. That’s why I’m surprised you let that young man into your house so many times.

—Watch what you say!

The old man pulled out his phone and showed her several photos of Bruno entering the building on different days, and a couple of recordings made from his doorway in which she could be heard moaning without restraint.

—Are you going to tell me it’s not true?

—Give me that, Mr. Eustaquio. What do you want to do with it?

—I’m not giving it to you. For now you’re going to do what I tell you, or this goes to your husband. Understood?

Remedios went cold. The old man, with a calm that was more frightening than the threat, asked her for things she did with disgust and with held-back tears, feeling trapped in her own lie. When she left there, she cried with helplessness. Now she would have to obey Mr. Eustaquio whenever he wanted, and there was nothing she could do to prevent it.

Desperate, she called the only person she believed was on her side.

—Hello, Bruno.

—Hello, darling.

—The neighbor across from us found out about us.

—That’s normal, Remedios. It’s been a long time. Someone was bound to notice.

—But he’s threatening to tell Andrés.

—Ah, worry even less about that.

—Why? I don’t want him to find out.

—We’re supposed to see each other tomorrow. I’ll explain everything then.

***

The next morning the intercom rang and Remedios opened the door. The sight almost made her lose her senses: Bruno hadn’t come alone. Beside him was Andrés, her husband. She stood frozen, unable to move or speak.

—Don’t be scared —Bruno said with unsettling calm—. Your husband and I have talked. He knows everything. And believe me, he’s not angry.

Andrés lowered his gaze, with a strange mixture of shame and something she had never seen in him.

—We’d had nothing for years, Reme —he murmured—. I’m not judging you. I just… want to be there.

Remedios understood nothing and, at the same time, everything. Anger, fear, and desire mixed together in her chest. Bruno took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom. Andrés followed them in silence and sat in a chair by the wall, like a spectator in his own bedroom.

What happened after was between the two of them, but she felt her husband’s gaze on the back of her neck the whole time. Every moan, every gesture, she gave knowing that he was seeing her for the first time surrendering like that. She expected to feel ashamed, but what ran through her was a different shiver, a heat that surprised her. Bruno set the pace and, from time to time, looked at Andrés with a complicit smile, as if the three of them had signed an unspoken pact.

When it was all over, Bruno dressed slowly, left some bills under the photo of the married couple, and took his leave with a gesture. Remedios and Andrés were left alone, in silence, in the bed they had hardly shared for years. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. There was no need to say anything.

Life turns many times. What began as a hidden betrayal ended up giving them back something they had thought lost: the desire to look at each other again. And that house, once mute and cold, was never so quiet again.