Chapter 3 - Wants and Cant's

CLEMENTINE

“Sancho, give that to me.”

I was suddenly one with the wind and this guy had the nerves to pretend I was neither visible nor audible. In my frustration, I grabbed one of the suitcases when we settled inside the elevator. He clutched it tighter, which pulled me towards his direction. Some of my weight landed on his chest, which he thankfully supported, and now he looks like some superhero with the two suitcases in his hand plus me.

“Don’t be stubborn. Come on. I can bring that.”

“I don’t want to argue, Clementine, please.”

“You’ve been saying please a lot,” I noticed. Under normal circumstances, I’d tease him more, but he genuinely looks tired despite his best effort to look calm.

I know Sancho like the back of my hand. Not only the little part of his body, but what’s running inside his head. I figured he’d follow me. I just didn’t know he’d do it sooner.

“It’s not like you’re making things easier.” He must have meant something else, but we both had a sudden realization about what he just said. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“I know,” I agreed as I entered the code to the door of his apartment.

I’ve lost count of how many sleepovers I’ve had in his home. I can walk inside his place with my eyes closed, and I’d be able to go inside his bedroom without bumping into any wall. This was almost like my second home, but all of a sudden, it felt like a whole new different place.

I don’t know if Sancho noticed how conscious I’ve become, but if he did, he was doing well ignoring it.

“You can stay in the guest room.”

“Thanks. Sorry for disturbing you. I promise not to stay here long,” I said, but he didn’t respond.

Time was moving so fast that I didn’t notice that three days had passed. My day started as usual. I usually wake up at four a.m. for my early morning shift in the cafe. I took a pause as I looked at myself in front of the mirror. I had no makeup on, I was wearing a casual shirt, and my hair was all over the place. Taking this part-time job wasn’t part of the plan, but being robbed and being broke again was also not part of my plan.

I intend to pay Sancho for my stay here. Plus, I need to save money for next month’s rent if I want to leave this house immediately. I slowly opened the door and cautiously took one step after another. I was about to get a glass of water when I noticed a sandwich on the table.

“Have this before you go.”

I sighed.

Not again.

I didn’t want to, but I took it and had a quick bite. I wouldn’t make the same mistake of ignoring the food he prepared. He’s not forcing me to eat, and he’s also not trying to control my life, at least not too upfront. The first day he prepared breakfast for me, I ignored it on the table, and he ended up delivering it to me. He nonchalantly dropped by the cafe to bring me food. As if that wasn’t enough, he bought coffee for me and two of my workmates.

No way that’s happening again. I ended up getting teased until now.

Of course he will make me do things he wants to without uttering a single word. Sancho can be cunning when he wants to, and oh, I don’t want to.

I spent half of the day in the cafe. I spent two hours auditioning. I was confident until I saw thirty other actresses auditioning for the same role. At this point, I’ve acknowledged that feeling defeated was part of the process, and I’d just have to continue, which I did. In the afternoon, I started my shift at the restaurant where I served tables.

I was too tired, but I didn’t even have time to think I was tired. I walked home, but I realized that it wasn’t the way to Sancho’s house.

It was a quiet walk back to his place. Luckily, it wasn’t too far, but it was far enough to fill my head with wonderful what-ifs and daydreams. It’s my favorite part of the day. When I’m done with working and when I’m allowing myself to dream a little.

By the time I reached his place, I was too weak and exhausted to even think about a single thing. I didn’t want to change yet, so I collapsed on the sofa and just stared at the white wall. I blinked and blinked, until my eyes felt too heavy and I couldn’t open them again.

I was woken up by the sound of my phone ringing, and I immediately sighed when I saw the caller name.

MOM Calling.

I didn’t think twice and ended the call and turned my phone on silent. I should block her, but then that would make her contact me with another number. So this is what I do. I don’t answer her calls, and from time to time, I respond shortly to her text. Just to let her know that I’m okay, and that’s all I could share. She can’t play Mom with me after all the things she did. Shame on her.

“You’re home.”

Sancho looked fresh out of the shower with his wet hair and the towel hanging on his neck. His arm muscles were peeking from the white shirt he was wearing. I inhaled. Damn. Don’t even get me started with how he smells. I dared not make a move or I’d end up pulling him so close to me there’d be no space between us.

“Did you have dinner already?”

I slowly nodded my head, but when I raised an eyebrow, I changed my answer and slowly shook my head. I had lunch and a light snack this afternoon, and I’m too tired to cook or order food, so I was planning to prioritize a nap before skimming through scripts.

“I thought so. I prepared dinner.”

I sighed. Not again.

“Sancho,” I called. “Can we talk?”

“After eating.”

“Why would it matter to you if I eat or not?” I asked. I think I already know the answer here. “Why would it matter to you if I slept well or not? Why do you keep on taking care of me?”

He fell silent, and I know his silence doesn’t mean he doesn’t have an answer or he doesn’t know. He’s Sancho for crying out loud. The last thing he wants to do is waste his time and other people’s time.

“Because I want to.”

“Because I’m pregnant?”

Again, he chose silence and walked to his kitchen. He looked back at me, silently asking me to follow. If it wasn’t for the appetizing smell, I would have walked out.

“Let’s eat first.”

Like a grumpy kid, I followed his lead and even let him put food on my plate. This is one of the reasons why I didn’t like staying. He’d take care of me, to the point where I’d almost let him.

We ate in silence. My eyes were glued to the plate, and still, I’d feel him look in my direction. We have to talk. We need to sort things out. If it’s up to me, there’s no perfect time for that kind of talk, but unfortunately, we can’t keep going in circles.

I did think about it. In fact, it was all I thought about from the moment I wake up, as I work, while I line up for an audition, while I rehearse, and up until I fall asleep. There’s no resting as it’s all I think about.

I cleared my throat. “Can we talk now?”

“Are you ready now?”

No. I am not. I will never be.

With a brave facade, I asked him a question first. “You want me to change my mind, don’t you? You want to keep the… this hypothetical child.”

Without a beat, he answered. “Yes.”

“You can have a family with someone else, Sancho. With your status and wealth, you can have anyone.”

“I can. Of course I can, and if I wanted to, I would have done it already.”

“But?”

“But they wouldn’t be you, Clementine.” He answered, which made me gasp. We’ve done all sorts of things in bed. I’ve heard countless sweet-nothings whispered in my ear, but I’ll never get used to him saying things like how he wants me. 

“You’re moving back to Spain,” I reminded him as I reminded myself that whatever he was saying, it was more to sway me than to confess. “It was never going to work.”

It wasn’t supposed to be complicated. We were supposed to meet, and we were supposed to part ways… and move on.

I wasn’t sure what I was heading to that morning. I called in sick from work and decided that I would get rid of the problem today or else I’d never be able to accomplish anything.

I walked aimlessly, trying to convince myself that this is the right thing to do. I lay down for a consultation.

“There’s your baby,” the doctor said, pointing at the small dot on the screen. “It’s too early to hear the heartbeat but- oh well, there it is.”

I wasn’t planning to be emotional, but as I heard the drum-like sound filling the room, I got teary-eyed.

I was both an unplanned and unwanted child. I spent my childhood begging for love and affection, something no child deserves to do. I was scared I’d end up doing the same thing to this… this baby.

But there’s Sancho who wants this. He’ll be able to take care of this child. All the things that a child will want, he will be able to provide.

I called him from my phone. He answered before the third ring. I was suppressing my sob, fearing he might hear me.

“Clementine?” he asked.

“Sancho, can you hear that?” I breathed in. “It’s the sound of your baby’s heartbeat.”