Gates to Tangier (11 page)

"Of course, I see him sometimes at the
Tefilá
in Madrid."

"I think he married a
goyá
."

"They got married and divorced. But I think he has a son.”

"Yeah? Well, I didn't know that he was divorced, I remember him because you once yelled at him and said he shouldn't hit kids with a stick, remember that? You were seven or something like that, but you stood up to the teacher. Yelled at him.”

"No, I don't remember all that." I don't reme
­
mber that.

"The whole class was so proud of you, I don't know why, but I thought about it this week. You're a do
­
ctor, right?”

"Let's go to a table, sit down, since it is almost two.”

“No, wait, let me take you to a really great restaurant, a fish place, has really good fish, they bring it from Morocco, fresh fish. Much better than what you eat in Spain.”

"Yes, I'm a family doctor. And what do you do, Jose?” I couldn't help but be startled to hear the name I spoke, because among my own friends I had found a Yosef. Could it be my brother? Maybe my father got the birth date wrong. It couldn't be. Could it? Jose has two Jewish parents, Jose....Yosef...

"Computers, business, I have two comp
­
uter shops in Barcelona, but like I said I came to w
­
ork with my father, it is a bit difficult to conv
­
ince old people to use computers, but I don't think we have any other option...”

"I'm so happy to see you, you were always the be
­
st in math class. I remember you always got first prize. It was something ridiculous, three books for the first prize, two for the second, and one for the third. I was always second or third.”

"You remember the books? Robinson Crusoe, with pictures, with a red and white cover. Or pink.”

"It was pretty ridiculous, but we were so proud of winning those prizes, and getting that book that nobody read, it was all to show to our parents. They would tell me, why didn't you get fi
­
rst, like your brother Isaque? As if being the se
­
cond out of thirty students wasn't enough. That was my mother. I'm going back to Madrid tomorrow, I haven't been to Ceuta in years so I decided to sleep here to
­
night. It is such a modern city now. I remember all those trips with Mamá and the American car with a chauffeur. What car was that? A Ford, or a Chevrolet, I don't remember, we would come here and it was different from Tangier, this was another country. We had to show our passports in customs, the chauffeur took the passports from my mother and talked to the border police, gave them a
bakshish
and we passed, while the others, the Arabs, watched us. And now what are we? Middle-class Europeans, but those days we were the rich, the en
­
vy of all...”

"Yes, well, many feel that way. We weren't that rich though, and I can't really complain about my life now.”

"So, business is good?"

"I'm glad to hear that."

"And you, how's being a doctor?"

"It's a living, a good living, but it isn't a busi
­
ness. I'm not complaining, they've offered me other positions where I could make more, but what interests me is my patients. I like meeting the whole fam
­
ily and seeing how problems pass on from generation to generation. The offered me an administra
­
tive post, to work in the Ministry of Health, for all the family doctors in Madrid. It was a very good salary, but in the end I didn't accept the j
­
ob. I don't regret it, you have to feel good about a job like that. I'm not going to go dealing with paperwork all day.”

"I see you have principles, it is important to feel good about what you do...another beer or shall we leave this place?”

"I’ve had enough beer, let's g
­
o. I'm buying.”

"No, no way! I'm paying.”

"No, no, I was already here eati
­
ng and drinking before you came."

"Fine, but at the restaurant it is on me," sai
­
d Jose.

Everything is close by in Ceuta. You can cover the whole city in half an hour. The restaurant was on the first corner, El Lenguado, that's what it was called. Maritime-themed tab
­
les, sky-blue tablecloths, and high wooden chairs made the restaurant seem expensive. The cutlery was of si
­
lver, and on every plate was a nap
­
kin.

“They have the best sole here in the world, I would say," said Jose.

"I love sole, let's get that."

The bread and olive oil came quickly, as well as olives and an olive pâte. The bread was fresh, it seemed homemade. For the first dish we ordered a sa
­
lad and manchego cheese, and after that we ordered the s
­
ole.

"Would the gentlemen care for some wine?"

"No, mineral water. Sparkling, please. Both of us."

"Do you remember Simita, a girl that studied with u
­
s? What was her last name?”

“Bensadon?

“Yes, could be, maybe. They told me she died in a car accident. She was living in the United States, in Miami. Remember how in love we all were with her? All the men in the class...”

"Not me," I said.

"Really, you weren't? She was the prettiest girl in the class, you’re just saying that now. You were also in love with her."

"The prettiest, but now she is dead, in an accid
­
ent. What a shame. Tell me, are you married?”

"Yes, and I have a daughter. Yes, married...well, not completely. We don't live together anymore. Maybe...”

And before I went on I realized that no, that wasn't what I wanted. I didn't want to get divorced. I could talk to her again, maybe we could go back, try again, although it would only be for our daughter, for the past. What do I know? The pa
­
st doesn't make sense anymore, five years of your life don't make s
­
ense, and yet the past is also so important, it is a reason to stay together.

“And you, are you married?”

“Second wife. Two kids from the first. The firs
­
t was Jewish, the second isn't. What does that matter?”

“I'm not sure if it matters or not. Maybe it does, if it isn't great love that matters, it is more difficult to live with a wo
­
man from another religion, who thinks differently.”

"
Coño
, don't start to talk to me about the mi
­
nd...But yes, we all want to marry a woman from Tétouan or Tangier, my cousin got one from Tétouan the second time around, I'm envious of him. Suddenly it becomes very important that someone understand you so that you don't have to explain yourself all the time. Someone that understands that deep sadness...”

At that moment I realized that Jose wouldn't understand. He was interested in business and mo
­
ney, and our conver
­
sation couldn't go farther than that. I was looking for answers, not stories of profit and loss. Even our marriages seemed like a business transaction. After lunch, and the delicious sole, I gave him my Madrid numb
­
er and told him I would call if I passed through Barcelona. Sure, I'd like to have some
tapas
another time, but today I prefer to go to the sea and think. In the afternoon I was tired of the city already, and thought about leaving that same night and not waiting till the ne
­
xt day. But on the way to the hotel, I ran into Sarah, who I knew
­

from Madrid.

"What are you doing here?" 

"What are YOU doing here, Fortu?"

The plan abruptly changed. It seemed like that day all of Tétouan was in Ceuta.

Everyone was coming and going, doing business.

"Well, I'm coming back from Tétouan."

"Everyone is coming back from Tétouan." She smiled with a childlike sm
­
ile that hadn't changed from the day I m
­
et her at summer camp, when I was 15.

"Let's go get a drink."

"I'm visiting, family. And also taking care of some family things. How long has it been since we last saw each other? Ten years, and we live three streets from each other in Madrid.”

"But not beer, I've had enough be
­
er today. Let's go have a coffee at La Campana."

"Sure, fine, I'm staying at La Residencia.”

"Me too, but that's not surprising. That's the only hotel that is more or less normal here."

"So many years. Do you remember? You were in love with me and wrote me love letters, very beautiful lett
­
ers. But I was in another world.”

"Now you are also in another world. We we
­
re never in the same world."

We arrive at the café, it is one of the city's most beau
­
tiful, and full of
pasteles de nata
. We both order coffee.

“It is a little odd, two meetings from the past in the same day. Maybe it shouldn't be so strange, that always happens in this city.”

“I always run into people I know. I meet more
Madrileños
here than in Madrid.”

“Well, everything is smaller here, if someone you kno
­
w is here and you are too, you'll most likely run into each other.”

“You know I got divorced.”

“Yes, I heard something from Gracia, she told me. Everyone is getting divor
­
ced these days. It isn't anything strange anymore. Now it is more normal
­
than being married. I'm st
­
ill married, but separated.”

“It was just impossible, I could have handled the affairs, but he was just never at home. In two years I saw him at home for 15 minutes, sometimes he came to sleep at 3 in the morning and left at 7, there was no longer any relationship.”

“I think that if we had talked we could have solved anything, it is just that the day came when we couldn't talk about anything. Everything you say is misunderstood, everything falls apart.”

“Maybe it doesn't fall apart, you know, maybe it is actually b
­
etter. I feel much better since I got divorced. Maybe it is better for us to find a new life, after a relationship is over.”

“Could be, who knows. But I don't want to get divor
­
ced. Tétouanis aren't built for divorce.”

“No one is. Maybe we are built to marry, and that's why we make such a mess.”

“What I do know is that I want to go back to her, but what I want is the past. I want my memories, I want to go back to ten years ago.”

"That's not possible."

And suddenly I felt a tremendous desire to eat a pastry, which lots of cream and sugar, something I hadn't done in years. I needed sugar.

“Just a second, I'm going to order a pastry. Do you want one too?”

“No, I don't eat pastries."

I ordered the biggest pastry they had.

“This is a blast from the past. Do you remember? When you ate three pastries a day? It has been so long since I ate a pastry in a
pastelería
. Probably about ten years.”

"You need sugar."

"What a coincidence, finding you here, af
­
ter so many years of not seeing each other!”

“Yes. But I have to go, I'm meeting a cousin.”

"What a shame."

“
Maybe we'll see each other at the hotel.”

Sarah woke something up in me, but as always, it disappeared. It seemed like the years hadn't passed, and we were the same. I needed wa
­
rmth, affection, something. At that moment, she made me fe
­
el it. It was so long since I had felt the hands of a woman. And suddenly I saw a woman in front of me, dressed in black, who was trying to explain in French and a little Spanish what she wanted to the waitress.

“I speak French, if you'd like me to translate," I said after considering for awhile if I should speak to her or not. It was like continuing the chat with Sarah. I translated what she wanted, a sandwich with cheese but no ham. 

"What is your name?"

"Fátima."

"Are you from Tétouan?"

"I was born in Tangier but I live in Paris. I'm here to visit my mother, she's sick. They say she's not doing so well, she's in a coma. I think it's serious.”

"Interesting. I was born in Tétouan, and live in Madrid. My name is Eli." I have no idea why I didn't tell her my real name.

I looked at her eyes for a long time, they seemed fam
­
iliar, as if she was family. But that would be impossible. Fátima is a Muslim name, there are no Jews with that name.

“You must be Jewish.”

“Yes, and you, Muslim?”

“It is difficult for me to talk to Jews since they st
­
arted killing Palestinian children," she said, but her bod
­
y language said the opposite.

"It's been hard for me since I was born." I smiled in order to avoid starting a political conversation.

"I don't know what is happening to me, my boyfriend of three years, Marcel, is Jewish, my best friend at univ
­
ersity, Jewish, and also named Marcelle, the director of my hospital, Jewish, the doctors I work with, Jewish, and it's not like Paris doesn't have any Muslims, but that's who I spend all my time with. I try to escape them, maybe that's why I find them. I'm sorry...”

"You don't have to apologize," I said while tears began to fall from her eyes.

"It has been a difficult few days, my mother, and many other things...letters...how can I explain. You're a stranger! I could tell you everything, though, I'm desperate.”

"Did you leave your boyfriend? I lef
­
t my wife. It isn't easy.”

"No, not exactly. I told him I needed to think. It's true, I needed to think. Sometimes you have to think.”