Valentines Day

A little person dressed as a mime with big red hearts drawn on his cheeks, slowly waddles towards our bench.  I want to cry.  Warm pressure builds behind my eyes. He even looks like Blitzen.  Why? Jeff doesn’t know! The little man starts singing something in Spanish to me as another full size mime behind him signs out the words.  My hands are shaking. I run down the stairs to get away from them.  I don’t stop running.  I stumble in the loose rocks near the sidewalk and knock a man off his bike.  Behind me I hear a wave of screams, and then hear the horn of the bus right before it hits me. 

               The sun is high in the sky by the time I make it out of the last terminal on the metro. Barcelona is so beautiful this time of year.  It’s just warm enough to enjoy the sun before tourist season hits and the families drown out the quaintness of the city.  Past all the beach bars with their trellises drenched in vines with lavender colored flowers I walk until I am alone.  My dad always made these treks by himself too.  We’d holiday every spring in Barcelona after mom died.  He said it was a nice change of pace.  I agree, ten years of spring in a different eastern European country every year will wear you out.  My mom loved snow and everything else associated with Christmas, hence my name: Dasher.  Our house was covered floor to ceiling with Father Christmas decor.  One year she bleached dad’s beard white while he was sleeping.  I lost her and my twin brother Blitzen eight years ago on Valentines Day in a car accident.  Blitzen was a little person and a little mental but in a good way.  He was always smiling and taking the piss out of mom.  My dad died on Christmas day, we both knew the cancer would get him eventually, but we planned on Barcelona anyway.  Before he died he made me promise I’d keep up the tradition as long as I could.  I decided to make it permanent.  I moved here the day after his funeral.  

           

            Three days ago I met a guy at the hostel I’m staying at.  His name is Jeff.  I don’t know what to think of him.  He’s American and from Texas, I don’t think I can manage the two but his big blue eyes and black hair make me want to try. He’s very cute and very charming in a silly western movie sort of way.  I’ll let him hang around at least until after tomorrow after all it will be Valentines Day and I don’t want to be alone. 

            On the way back the Metro is more crowded than usual. People carry books and bunches of roses for La Diada de Sant Jordi, the Spanish equivalent of Valentines day.  The streets are unusually clean, the washers must have come out early. Normally everything smells like dogshit and beer by this time of day. 

            After a plate of tapas, a beer and a shower I’m too tired to go dancing and pass out on my bunk in the employee room.  Car horns wake me at 7am.  I put out breakfast, my only job here in exchange for my bed and head to Park Guell to meet Jeff for our date.  He’s sitting on the big mosaic lizard at the top of the stairs.  The bench is very hot from the afternoon sun and scorches my thighs.  He’s smile is beautiful.  I wonder what he has planned.