Chapter 35: The Limit of Nostalgia
Time seemed to melt over that rotten log.
The sun began to give way. It lost that white, blinding intensity that had punished the town all day and tinted everything a dark, heavy orange. The shadows of the trees stretched across Camila's backyard and the song of the cicadas grew louder, filling the silences between our words.
The conversation had started to flow with a naturalness that surprised me. We talked about nonsense, about old anecdotes I thought I had forgotten, about the neighbors who were still just as crazy and the ones who were no longer there. For a while I almost managed to convince myself that we were just two friends catching up.
But my body wouldn't let me forget reality.
Sitting in the sunken curve of the wood, gravity pushed us toward the center. Our shoulders brushed every time she moved to emphasize something. Her knees, bare and toasted by the sun, touched my pants with a constancy that had my nerves on edge. Camila was tactile, rough, and carefree. A couple of times, when she let out a laugh at something I said, she leaned toward me and the loose fabric of her T-shirt gave way enough for the soft side of her breast, free of any bra, to brush against my arm for a brief and torturous second.
I swallowed, trying to keep my eyes forward.
The smell of dry earth mixed with the fresh soap of her skin was driving me crazy. The memory of her naked back and that tan line on her hips kept hammering in my head with every brush. Every time her knee moved against mine, my traitorous mind went back to the basin, to the moment she took off her T-shirt without even looking around.
'Don't look. Don't think about that. Just talk,' I repeated to myself.
"…and then old Ramírez came out with the broom chasing the dog, I swear, he almost face-planted in the mud," she was saying, laughing hard.
Her laugh was contagious, rough and genuine. I caught myself smiling, relaxing my shoulders for the first time all day.
"He was always a bitter old man," I replied.
"A fucking bitter old man, yeah," she agreed, turning toward me.
Still laughing, she dropped her hand onto my thigh and gave me a friendly shove. Her fingers pressed lightly against my leg, just above the knee, dangerously close to the area I had been trying to ignore for hours. The heat of her palm went through the fabric of my pants like a hot iron.
The touch was too much.
My breathing cut off all at once. Instinct and panic mixed into a single impulse and, before I could reason it out, I made a sharp movement to pull away. I leaned back on the log, sliding my leg, but the movement was so clumsy and sudden that the fabric of my pants stretched completely.
The zipper and the front seam stretched to the maximum, mercilessly revealing the huge, furious erection I had been holding back since I saw her take off her T-shirt at the washbasin. The bulge marked thick, heavy and throbbing against the denim, impossible to hide from any angle.
I froze.
'No… not now…' I thought, feeling the blood rush to my face with absurd violence.
Camila's laugh slowly died. Her hand stayed suspended in the air for a second before she let it fall onto her own lap. The silence that settled between us was absolute and crushing. The sound of the cicadas suddenly seemed deafening.
I watched her olive-green eyes drop. It wasn't a fleeting glance; they locked directly onto my crotch. I could see her blink, processing the size and the brutal tension deforming my clothes. The nostalgia and the childhood-friends attitude shattered in that exact instant.
Slowly, Camila raised her gaze until she met my eyes. Her expression wasn't anger, or disgust, or panic. It was something much more raw.
She wet her lips.
"Shit, Ethan…" she said in a low voice, with that direct, unfiltered tone that characterized her. "Is it because of me?"
The question went through me like a spear.
The guilt for having spied on her in secret that morning, added to the deep shame of having been caught in that state and my total inexperience in handling a situation like this, paralyzed my brain. My father had taught me how to fight, how to study and how to endure pain, but he hadn't taught me what to do when a woman asks you straight to your face if you want her.
Panic took hold of me.
"I… no…" I stammered, feeling my face burn as if I had a fever. "Shit, Camila. I'm sorry."
I stood up in a jump, turning my back so she wouldn't keep looking. The physical discomfort was brutal, but the mental desperation was worse.
'Idiot. Degenerate. Coward,' I repeated to myself over and over while trying to regain control of my own breathing.
"Ethan, hey, you don't have to…" she started to say, standing up behind me. I noticed her voice sounded a little less rough, a little stranger.
"I have to go," I interrupted her, walking in clumsy strides toward the exit of the yard. "It's late. My mother… is waiting for me. I… we'll talk later."
I didn't wait for her answer. I practically fled the place. I left the property at a fast pace, head down, cursing myself mentally with every step I took along the dirt road.
The walk back was a blur. The sun finished setting completely, tinting the sky a deep blue and purple. The heat of the day stayed trapped in the dust of the path, rising from the ground, but I only felt a nervous cold running down my back. The erection took a long time to go down, throbbing to the rhythm of my frustrated steps, like a stinging reminder of the disaster I had just caused.
By the time the center of town was behind me and I turned the corner toward my street, night had already settled in.
I stopped dead a few meters from the entrance.
The windows of the house were lit. Through the light curtains, shadows could be seen moving inside. I heard the faint sound of a television and mixed voices. The emptiness and silence of the morning had disappeared.
I swallowed, feeling my heart pumping hard in my ears. The day had been exhausting and I had just ruined my only emotional refuge in the town. Now all that was left was to face what was inside.
My mother had returned. Maya had returned. My sisters were there.
I stood still in front of the main door, my hand suspended a few centimeters from the doorknob, knowing that as soon as I entered there would be no escape.
End of Chapter 35