The memory of that first time I saw Ricardo played on a loop in my mind, a flickering neon sign in the desert of my guilt. That chaotic pre-interview dinner in El Paso. Sonia, my new friend from my medical residency, had dragged me to this hole-in-the-wall taquería squeezed between a tire shop and a dusty bookstore. The kind of place where the salsa sings in your sinuses and piñatas hang from the ceiling like forgotten party ghosts. She was explaining the next steps of my hospital residency when she casually waved over her husband.
Ricardo.
Tall, with an easy smile and a Portuguese accent that rolled off his tongue like warm honey mixed with gravel. He took my hand and kissed it, his lips lingering a heartbeat too long. “Ah, Mariela. Sonia says you are going to save many lives here.” His dark eyes held mine. “Now I can see why. With your beauty, you can save me anytime.” He’d said it with a wink that made my cheeks burn under the glow of the Corona sign. He didn’t let go of my hand, and I, frozen and blushing, couldn’t pull mine away either.
He flirted shamelessly, not just with me, but with all of Sonia’s friends clustered around the table. He held court like a rooster in a henhouse, all of us hanging on his every word, laughing at his jokes, dancing between compliments and teasing jabs. I was mesmerized. The way his voice wrapped around simple things like “pass the guacamole” or “try this, it’s better than Lisbon,” turning ordinary chatter into something electric. I was lost.
Sonia laughed. “Good that you like Ricardo! Now you can come visit us with your husband.” Suddenly, Ricardo was behind me, his hands on my shoulders as he whispered in my ear, “Your husband is a lucky man.” I blushed furiously, right in front of Sonia. She saw me and laughed. “Don’t let him get to you. He loves to tease pretty girls.” I just remember his look, that wolfish smile as he said goodbye with his eyes, as if he could see right into me, into my desires, and he’d made me blush.
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Ricardo.
Tall, with an easy smile and a Portuguese accent that rolled off his tongue like warm honey mixed with gravel. He took my hand and kissed it, his lips lingering a heartbeat too long. “Ah, Mariela. Sonia says you are going to save many lives here.” His dark eyes held mine. “Now I can see why. With your beauty, you can save me anytime.” He’d said it with a wink that made my cheeks burn under the glow of the Corona sign. He didn’t let go of my hand, and I, frozen and blushing, couldn’t pull mine away either.
He flirted shamelessly, not just with me, but with all of Sonia’s friends clustered around the table. He held court like a rooster in a henhouse, all of us hanging on his every word, laughing at his jokes, dancing between compliments and teasing jabs. I was mesmerized. The way his voice wrapped around simple things like “pass the guacamole” or “try this, it’s better than Lisbon,” turning ordinary chatter into something electric. I was lost.
Sonia laughed. “Good that you like Ricardo! Now you can come visit us with your husband.” Suddenly, Ricardo was behind me, his hands on my shoulders as he whispered in my ear, “Your husband is a lucky man.” I blushed furiously, right in front of Sonia. She saw me and laughed. “Don’t let him get to you. He loves to tease pretty girls.” I just remember his look, that wolfish smile as he said goodbye with his eyes, as if he could see right into me, into my desires, and he’d made me blush.
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