Read The Rain in Spain for Free Online

desperation.
    Her mouth opened under his to a kiss that felt like punishment, and she wondered again if he was pretending not to notice the fissures in their relationship, the same way she’d pretended to be a tourist on the hotel roof. Was pretending now that her marriage was working. Javi’s mouth pushed her back, her head against the wall, an ache at the back of her skull as his tongue thrust and pushed at her own. When he tore his mouth off hers and let her go suddenly, she staggered into the street, dizzy with wanting him and needing to move. To keep moving, because stopping, standing still, meant the end of this last night and she couldn’t bear it, the knowing it was almost over.
    She’d left her umbrella somewhere behind them and felt a pang at the loss. It had been her talisman, that and the kite. Reminders that Javi had risen to the challenges of her nomad’s lifestyle. Her lips felt puffy, swollen from kissing him, her mouth and cheeks surely pink from the scrape of his stubble. Her hair was a knotty tangle of damp curls from the rain, her sundress a wrinkled mess clinging to her breasts.
    Warm rain streamed over her as she walked down the middle of the alley by herself, Javi sticking close to the buildings where the balconies gave some protection from the downpour. She licked water off her lips. Puddles squelched up between her toes as she stepped in them, avoiding nothing, tilting her head back to let the rain strike her face.
    She’d taken enough English Lit classes in college to know a baptismal metaphor when she strolled through one. The only question was what version of her would rise from the waters, cleansed and tender, absolved and starting anew.
    It was late enough by the time they finally wandered past the bar she’d been aiming for all along that the heavy wooden door was closed. Earlier in the day, it had been propped open. But when she pulled on the twisted, wrought iron handle, the door opened smoothly on its hinges and the older man behind the bar in a white shirt and black tie nodded at them. They ordered more drinks, the buzz of alcohol already faded from her system. She didn’t know what time it was and didn’t want to know. The end of this evening was barreling towards them and the only thing waiting for her back in their hotel room was a conversation she’d promised herself would happen tonight. Words she was still searching for in the pit of her stomach, finding nothing but the rain.
    The handful of people left in the bar were scattered around tall tables. A trio, two men and a woman, occupied couches in an alcove at the back of the room. The men were strumming guitars, the woman singing quietly. Slow, stripped-down sevillanas. Songs of love and the beauty of Sevilla, melancholy and unrequited when sung quietly for an audience that pretended not to notice the musicians, perhaps to give them privacy. She’d hoped to show Javi a performance, knowing they would get a display as full of fiery stomping and dizzying spins as one of the flamenco shows, without the cheesy tourist trappings. The sevillanas dancers were as likely to be local woman dancing for the hell of it as professional dancers. But this was better, a behind-the-curtain glimpse at the musicians in their off hours, round glass globes of brandy on the low table at their feet. They strummed and sang and their low mournful hum eased the knowledge that this night was coming to an end.
    “Guess we missed the show.” Javi shook his head and frowned.
    “Don’t you see? This is better.”
    “How? They’re done. Maybe we can come back tomorrow.”
    She swallowed a sip of whisky, the heat of the alcohol flooding her mouth, and shivered with a sudden chill. When Javi wrapped his arm around her, pulling her back against his chest reflexively to warm her, she left her hands on the bar and ignored her icy fingers. Normally, she would have wrapped them around his arm, warming herself on his heat, but told herself now to get used to