miss barcelona


The week was a hot one, every day sunny, clear and blue. People sat around the swimming pool and absorbed the sunshine, something that always seemed insane to me. I was looking forward to Friday because we had a boat cruise party and I had never been out onto the water of the Boston Harbour. I was also looking forward to seeing the scientists and doctors that I occasional went out with. I’d been invited to this particular event by the first person I knew in Boston, a lady from Barcelona whom I had met through the doctors I knew in Madrid. This is because the wife of my best Spanish friend was a doctor and so I socialized with them frequently.
            Friday came and I boarded the train after work to take the short trip down to South Station close to the harbor. It had been raining heavily as I walked from my apartment to the station but I was hopeful it would subside by the time I arrived at South Station. On the contrary, when I stepped out of the station it was raining so furiously heavily that it physically hurt my head and was soaking through my raincoat instantly. On the journey I’d exchanged some messages with Miss Barcelona and she had said that she was on her way, too, but was not really feeling enthusiastic considering the weather. I informed her that I felt the same way and she said ‘shall we forget it?’ I said ‘I think so’… but neither of us were sure. When I felt that rain attacking my head, my mind was made instantly. I had a fifteen minute, or more, walk to the pier and the rain was simply too aggressive to allow me to do so and retain any hope of enjoying the evening. Miss Barcelona and I messaged back and forth and both laughed and felt relieved to have made the decision.
            I walked back inside and boarded the Red Line T to head back to Alewife station and suddenly an inescapable sadness crept into my system. It was a like a gentle and poisonous smoke that filled the train carriage but I knew that it was affecting only me as I watched happy lovers laughing, holding hands, kissing, joking and generally feeling the excitement of Friday night and the arrival of the weekend. I felt sad that I would not see Miss Barcelona but I felt even more sad in the knowledge that she didn’t really care about seeing me… we had tickets for a group of four and the other two in our group were guys that she had invited. It was only that night that I had discovered all the others were going and yet not one had asked me if I was coming along or had spoken to me. My friends in Europe would be asleep… there was no one to contact. I went into a bar and ordered a beer and messaged Miss Barcelona. She still hasn’t responded.
           

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