*
Sergio was waiting nervously for her outside the post office on the Paseo Maritimo, an elegant tree-lined promenade that ran the length of the seafront in Estepona. The chiringuito beach bars were full and the smell of fresh fish grilling on wooden embers filled the evening.
She was nearly half an hour late, and had done her best on the bus to repair the damage to her face.
‘I really thought you’d stood me up,’ Sergio said. ‘Another five minutes and I’d have been off.’ Although Ana suspected he would have waited a lot longer. He peered at her in the fading light. ‘Have you been crying?’
She shrugged it off. ‘Some bad news at home,’ she said. ‘But it’s okay, I don’t want anything to spoil our evening.’
Concerned eyes lingered on her face for several long moments before Sergio took her hand and they began strolling slowly along the Paseo in the direction of the old port.
Apartments rose on three and four levels above the shops and restaurants lining the broad Avenue del Carmen that swept down into town from the west. A fine, sandy beach stretched away to their left, and a gently foaming Mediterranean washed up along the shore, breathing softly into the night. It was cooling now, but the air was still soft on their skin.
Ana liked the feel of her hand in his. It felt big and protective. Their arms swung together a little as they walked in an easy silence. Lip-reading, since they were both facing in the same direction, was not an option. And their hands were otherwise engaged.
Ana had taken her first few lessons in signing, and spent most of her time with Sergio practising it. To her surprise it had come much more easily than she expected. But for now she was content just to feel close to him. Words were unimportant, and she let all memory of the row with her parents slip away.
Sergio took her to a tiny tapas bar in the port, squeezing past crowded tables on the terrace to find a quiet spot in the dark interior. The walkway outside was jammed with tourists and locals finding seats in restaurants and bars. The smell of woodsmoke and barbecued meats suffused the night air, and yachts bobbed gently in the dark on the moonlit waters of the marina. They ordered the house selection of tapas, and a waitress brought them seemingly endless plates of patatas bravas, albóndigas, langostinos, empanadas, tortitas . . . Sergio asked for two glasses of Rioja, and they sipped on its smooth velvety vanilla as they ate.
Ana spoke and signed at the same time, Sergio correcting her as she went. Tea-light candles burned on their table, and tiny pinpoints of light danced in his dark eyes. ‘So,’ she said. ‘Once you have graduated, what is it you want to do?’
‘I want to teach,’ he said. ‘In a school for the deaf, or special needs pupils. I want to bring the world to children with problems and teach them that they are no different from anyone else. That there’s nothing to stop them from being whoever it is they want to be.’
Ana felt her heart swell. ‘I wish I’d had someone like you to teach me. Maybe I wouldn’t have grown up believing that everyone else was better.’
‘Oh, Ana . . .’ He placed both of his hands over one of hers. ‘You mustn’t ever think that. You’re beautiful inside and out. You’re clever, you’re articulate, you’re funny.’ He paused and she felt his hands tighten their grip on hers. ‘I think you’re wonderful.’
She blushed and glanced away, embarrassed by his directness, but filled with pleasure. And feelings of – she wasn’t quite sure what. Just feelings she had never had before.
They ate their way through every plate, washing it all down with a second glass of wine. They talked and laughed and Ana thought, this is how it must be for ordinary people. For the first time in her life she forgot about her hearing difficulties, forgot that Sergio was deaf. Simply felt the pleasure of being alive, and enjoying the company of the person she was with.
When it came time to go, and Sergio paid the bill, she got up from the table with reluctance, for the first time allowing thoughts to enter her mind of what might await her when she got home. In the port outside, bright lights obliterated the darkness, turning night into day, air filled with the sound of humanity at play. Sounds Sergio would never hear, and which registered only distantly for Ana. As they wove their way through the terrace Ana stumbled on someone’s bag lying on the floor and almost fell.
Sergio caught her, and for a moment she found herself in his arms, safe from all the dangers that the night presented. He made sure she was steady on her feet before letting her go. She laughed it off. ‘I’m getting so clumsy. Tripping over things that I don’t seem to notice, bumping into people as I go past them.’
Sergio laughed. ‘It’s the wine. I feel a little heady myself.’
He took her hand and she leaned in to his side as they walked up out of the port to the bus stop in the Avenue del Carmen. They stood waiting for the bus and for the first time that night could find nothing to say. Something about the anticipation of parting silenced tongues and hands. They had spent many hours together at the centre, but this was their first time out alone, and Ana wondered how they would end it. Her mouth was dry, and her heart beat a little faster when she saw the lights of the bus turning on the roundabout. But she had no time to think about it before she felt Sergio’s
