Glenda stepped out of the shower and stopped before the mirror. Her hair looped up and confined beneath a shower cap left her long neck bare and made her eyes look larger and darker.
'You look Spanish,' Steve said.
She didn't turn, but continued staring at herself in the mirror, her beautiful face impassive.
He put his hands on her wet shoulders, bent his head to kiss her neck.
'Dry me,' she said.
He picked up a towel and patted her reverently, tenderly dry. She reached up and pulled off the cap and let her hair tumble, a flow of honey and brown, to her waist. He caught his breath.
'When is checkout?' she asked.
'Noon.'
Now she turned to face him. 'And then what? After we leave an hour from now, then what?'
'Anything you want. I'll take you to lunch anywhere you say, and then we'll have time to do a little shopping before you have to be at the airport. Anything you want.' His eyes pleaded with her.
'Anything you want,' she mimicked. Her face contorted in anger; she gave the towel he still held a jerk and wrapped it around herself. 'How can you?'
'Glenda'
'I'm not talking about today! I'm talking about what after today? When I come back, do we just pretend it never happened? Do we just forget about us? How can you take me out and screw me, and then go tripping home to my mother? And what is this trip to Spain thing? Can't you handle it any more? Mother getting suspicious?'
'Darling, don't. Of course I don't want you out of the way. I love you. And I love your mother. Believe me, this is as hard for me'
'Oh, sure it is. Just tell me this: why should I be the one to lose? What happens to me after you marry my mother?'
'Sweetheart, try to understand…'
'Oh, yes, I'm the one who has to understand, and Mother's the one who doesn't suspect. Just how long do you think that's going to last?'
'In time,' he said, straining for patience, for the sound of wisdom in his voice, 'in time I hope we the three of us can work something out. But this is very difficult. You, you're young, while people like your mother and myself are very much shackled by the old morality; you can accept relationships that are more free and in time, maybe after your mother and I are married, the three of us can' He faltered and stopped. Her expression mocked him.
'I never lied to you,' he said, suddenly defensive, suddenly angrily sure that he was making a fool of himself. 'You knew what you were getting into; you knew who I was when you became my mistress'
'Mistress.' She said the word with loathing, and he caught the steely glint of hatred in her eyes. He tried to recoup but before he could speak she shook her head impatiently and let the towel drop.
'Well,' she said. 'We've still got an hour.'
Debbie opened her mouth and desperately forced a yawn as the plane began to take off. As the air pressure stabilized she turned to Glenda and said approvingly, 'Your stepfather is good-looking.'
'Steve's not my stepfather.'
'Well, whatever. They're getting married soon, aren't they?'
'July. Right after I come back from Spain.' Glenda laid her cheek against the window and shut her eyes.
'He looks awfully young.'
Glenda shrugged. 'A couple of years younger than my mother.'
Debbie bent her dark head over her copy of The Sun Also Rises when it became obvious that Glenda was in no mood for conversation. The two had played together as children and remained friends into the same college in an undemanding, almost superficial fashion.
Glenda chewed her lip. 'Look what he gave me,' she said suddenly, holding out her hand. 'Steve, I mean.' It was a silver ring, very simple, the ends bent into a curving 'S' design. It had been made for her while she watched in the narrow dark handcrafts shop, clutching Steve's hand with emotion she didn't show on her calm face.
Debbie nodded. 'Pretty. He's paying for this trip, isn't he?'
'He insisted. And Mother — well, she's so hung up on him that whatever he says is fine with her.'
'I think it's great,' Debbie said. 'Your mother getting married again. And you like him so much, too.'
'Oh, we're great friends.'
Their room in Sevilla had two beds, a red-brick floor and a balcony from which could be seen La Giralda, the Moorish tower. Glenda stood on the balcony in the evening, the heat of the day already fading from the air, and watched the swallows dip and soar around the tower, pink-auraed from the setting sun.
Glenda had not known why, but coming to Sevilla after the noise and cars of grey Madrid had felt like coming home. She had led Debbie (plump Debbie panting a little under her backpack) through the winding streets as if guided by something, coming upon the little hotel and finding it perfect without feeling surprise. But at the same time she felt giddy, her stomach clenched with excitement, the way she always felt on those rare occasions when she was to be alone with Steve. With evening the feeling of something impending had become stronger and Glenda felt reality slipping away from her as if it were a dream.
She put a hand to her cheek and found it unnaturally hot. She turned back into the room where Debbie was putting on a skirt.
