Unforgotten

Five Months After the Talk

(June 14, 2018)

I don't know how I finished my work today, but I did. Being an American abroad is hard enough, but today was the hardest day of my career as a research project manager at the National University of San Marcos. I looked at the picture of my parents, which I kept on my desk, then took a deep breath before walking out.

While the rumors were malicious, untrue, and propagated by Diego's sister Karla to do me harm, I did not see how I could confront her without causing problems with Diego himself, the man I loved most in this world.

Karla and I never had problems between us, at least not until our recent conversation. I thought of her being her likable and bubbly self at Diego's family gatherings. She led me to believe she was a positive person, and I liked Diego's family, so I felt betrayed by this development.

I remembered the conversation, just four days ago. She seemed so innocent and full of kindness, as if she was really looking out for her brother and other people in my life. Why she would go so far as to claim I did something I didn't even think of doing is beyond me.

A light rain was falling as I walked to the road and got in the front seat of Diego's car.

"Long day," he asked in Spanish.

I remembered when I was just getting to know him, how the excitement of seeing him often calmed my nerves.

"Very. But seeing you is worth it."

He smiled.

"Don't think I don't know about what you've gone through."

"You know what all of this means?"

"Yeah. It's like the time before we met turning evil and taking out its wrath on our universe."

He patted me on the shoulder reassuringly as I recalled the many times that he playfully bantered with me in a similar fashion. I smiled a little at his choice to use the word our.

"I understand how difficult and distracting this can be," he said.

I thought about my day. A colleague had asked me an intense series of questions about a specific time in my life that I did not care to relive, and while I answered them patiently, inside I was shaken. The worst part was that the endless questions had made me doubt my own intentions. I didn't consciously do what Karla said I did, but the idea unnerved me.

I said in English as Diego drove carefully, "Who do my coworkers think they are? I don't answer to them, I answer to the division dean, and even he's not stupid enough to ask about my relationships. Have you ever seen more prurient idiots? They don't care about who I'm with, they care about who they think I'm with."

I paused, not daring to look at Diego, then gritted my teeth and continued.

"And how could Karla be so stupid? I let her in on my life and she celebrates by talking about my hidden agenda. Is she insane? And who does she think she is? Wanting to set up an urgent meeting with me? In the old days, if one of my friends did something that embarrassing, she'd have the good sense to never speak to me again. I miss high school!"

"In high school," said Diego, "at least people knew their place in relation to you."

"Right. But I can't tell if you're trying to be funny or not," I said.

"Seems to happen often with me, doesn't it?"

"It's just absurd."

Speaking those very words made us laugh together at the absurdity of the situation.