LA FURIA

Chapter 6

"I don't want this kind of conversation. You're not talking with me at all," she said while making a crossed fingers.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"Don't get mad. Speak up. Let yourself be heard. We'd be more comfortable with each other that way. Is that so bad?" she said in a more relaxed way.

"It is bad. Why do we have to be comfortable with each other?" she thought contradicting what she just said.

"I guess not..." he replied. But his mind was protesting.

"But I wanted to build a soundproof Great Wall of China between us!" he thought.

"Ah, to hell with it," he mumbled softly.

It was her turn to get silent, so he started talking to himself.

"For a German's daughter, you look so different."

She stared at him, contemplating his statement.

"And what do you mean by that?"

"You don't have the hooked nose of a German. You look like Pinocchio..."

"What?!"

He smiled, then added. "And you're not fair-skinned either..."

Rachel exercised her unusual efficient self-control. "Of course not. I took after my mother," she replied.

"Good. At least you don't look like a Nazi. Your mother must be a native Latina..."

"Can we change the topic?!" she interrupted. A few words more and she's be rearranging his face to look like last year's tuna salad.

"Sure," he chewed on an ice cube. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Family," she replied, racking her brains. "Let's talk about family."

"Okay. So what's your German dad doing?"

It was the question she feared the most but didn't hesitate to answer. "No more dad. His ship sank right after it left Suez Canal. He was the captain, and he went down with it."

"Gee, that's sad," he said, really feeling sorry.

"What about yours? The quite Spanish dad?"

"He's into navigation too. You ever heard of the Melodie Lines?"

"I guess so. The shipping company of five luxury liners?"

"Got it. These big ships were the rich and the fine dining...stuff like that," he sounded like he hated it all.

"Wow!" her eyes shone. "Your father owns it?"

"Not exactly. He's a senior partner. He's into it with his brother. But he owns three of the ships. The Sonata, The Overture, and The Symphony. The Sonata is actually where my sister works."

"Oh. He has a sister." she thought.

"Younger sister?"

"Nah. I'm the youngest kid. She's a chef."

"She really must be something," Rachel remarked in admiration.

"You're right. She is something. She cooks in a five-star hotel now."

"Then, she must have plenty of assets."

"Sure she does. She owns a chef's van. All her equipment..." he filled her glass with cold water.

"She also owns the barbecue recipe, the yacht, and the clothes you're wearing."

Rachel felt a sudden rush of strong feeling. Most probably a relief. She lowered her eyes and found Winnie-the-Pooh more to her liking than his face.