Crossed Desires

DISPLEASURE

Miguel

I walk out of my father's office, feeling pleased with the deal I closed with the Arabs. He wants me to do a good job tonight at the dinner with the French. Brat was supposed to come with me, but since he never lets anything interfere with his weekends, and the dinner happens to be on a Saturday, he refuses to attend anything that isn't pure fun. Well, nothing can be done about that. I wander through my parents' house and head off to find my mother to say goodbye.

"Mother, I'm leaving. I love you very much," I tell her.

I bid her farewell because I'm already running late to pick up Gaby for lunch. She has been so patient with me. I had promised we'd spend the weekend together, yet I couldn't keep my word because of the business meeting, and she hasn't complained at all. My mother, however, makes a pout in protest.

"Don't go. Stay for lunch," she says, holding me by the arm.

She hugs me tightly, begging me not to leave. But I'm sorry—I really have to go.

"No, Mom, I can't. I promised Gaby I'd take her to lunch, since I won't see her the rest of the day because of the dinner with the French," I explain.

She exhales deeply, shaking her head from side to side in frustration.

"Always that girl. You don't think of your mother anymore; you never have time for me," she says.

Her words sting, because they're unfair. It's not true what she says about my girlfriend. My mother always tries to make me feel guilty, and now she's blaming Gaby for something that isn't her fault. The truth is, I don't even have enough time for myself, let alone for anyone else—but it's always easier to blame someone, and in her eyes, that someone is Gaby.

"Mother, please, I've spent the whole morning here," I remind her.

"But not with me," she retorts, reproachful.

I embrace her and kiss her cheek. I can't be upset with her just because she wants to spend time with me. I'm lucky to have such loving parents—many people aren't as fortunate.

"Alright, I promise I'll make time next week to be with you, okay?" I reassure her.

I hug her again and kiss her forehead. She deserves peace of mind; she has always been a wonderful mother.

"Very well," she finally says, smiling warmly as she gives me a hug and a kiss.

I also say goodbye to my father with a hug and head out. I call my girlfriend on her cellphone to let her know I'm on my way, but it goes straight to voicemail. What's going on? I try again, and again it goes straight to voicemail. Immediately, I start to feel my temper rise. This is exactly the kind of nonsense we always argue about.

I can't understand why she can't simply answer. I take a deep breath, but I hate it when she ignores my calls. What could she possibly be doing that she can't pick up? It takes me about twenty minutes to get to her house, and by then I'm already fuming. I walk straight to her front door and ring the bell once, twice—until her mother comes out.

"Good afternoon, ma'am. Is Gabriela home?" I ask curtly, my tone betraying my anger.

"She hasn't returned from the gym," her mother replies.

My temper spikes instantly. What on earth is wrong with this woman? Why doesn't she answer? Where is she? Why isn't she here? She knows exactly how much I hate being left waiting like a fool.

"What? It's nearly one o'clock already. She should be home by now!" I snap furiously, folding my arms in frustration.

"I don't know," her mother shrugs, then adds: "She left at seven in the morning, got ready, and went out with her friends."

Her words make me seethe even more. I can't stand those so-called friends of hers—they've taken her partying more than once, and I don't trust them. Running my hands through my hair, I feel a wave of desperation and fury. Why does she keep doing this, knowing how much it infuriates me?

"Would you like to wait for her inside?" her mother offers.

Of course not. If I go inside, my rage will only boil further.

"No, thank you. I'll wait in the car," I reply tersely.

I storm back to my car, angrier than ever. Gabriela is going to hear from me. How dare she leave me waiting here like a fool? I blast some music to calm down, but when I check the time, it's already past one—and still no sign of her.

I keep waiting. Half an hour passes. An hour. Nothing. Finally, I see a car pull up and park in front of her house. Gabriela steps out, laughing and saying goodbye to her friends with a kiss before they drive off. She turns in my direction, already knowing I'm there, and walks toward me with a smile. But I can't return it—I'm far too angry.

"Love, I'm sorry. My phone died," she says.

Her excuse only makes my blood boil further.

"That doesn't justify leaving me waiting like this, and arriving late," I snap, my brow furrowed.

"I ran into a friend at the gym, and he invited us to grab a drink," she explains.

Ah. So that's it. A friend. Now I'm livid. What friend? Since when does she have male friends? And why the hell didn't I know anything about this supposed friend? Does she think I'm an i***t who can't see what's going on? There's no such thing as a man befriending a woman without ulterior motives.

"What? A friend? Since when do you have friends I don't know about? And who told you it was okay to go out drinking with someone without even calling me? You left me waiting here for hours like a fool!" I explode, furious.

Dear readers, don't forget to vote and leave your comments—they motivate me to keep writing for you, with all my affection. This has been another chapter in Miguel's story.

Stay tuned—the next chapters will be even more intense.