Free The Andalucian Friend by Alexander Söderberg

replied to all her questions in monosyllables without asking her anything, without picking up any threads or behaving in the usual, functional social way. The man on the other side of her was no help, he couldn’t speak English or Swedish. In the end she gave up and decided to sit in silence.
    She concentrated on the food, glancing occasionally at Hector, who was engrossed in a conversation with his sister, who was his dinner partner. Alongside him, on the other side, was a beautiful woman in her thirties, Sophie didn’t know who she was. The woman looked up, caught Sophie’s eye for a moment, then looked away. Sophie realized she was staring.
    Sometimes people would get up to go out and smoke. She made use of that, excused herself to Ernst, got up from her chair, and went outside.
    She stood alone outside the entrance to the restaurant, smoking. She felt slightly drunk after a few glasses of Champagne, and the cigarette tasted good. The door opened behind her and Aron came out, followed by two men.
    “Hello, Sophie.”
    “Hello, Aron.”
    He looked around. One man went down the street to the left, the other went right. Aron turned to her.
    “Can I ask you to go in for a moment?”
    Sophie was taken aback, but his attitude implied that the question was completely natural.
    “Of course.”
    A car was coming up the street. The man who had gone right waved to Aron. Aron took a couple of steps out onto the street. The car came closer. Sophie went in.
    During her cigarette break a vague sense of chaos had descended on the party. Everyone had changed places and was sitting and talking over coffee and liqueurs. Someone else was sitting in her chair at Hector’s table. She found a spare place at another table, and it wasn’t long before Ernst Lundwall came and sat down beside her.
    “They took our places!”
    He seemed upset. The front door opened and a short-haired, muscular man came in. He surveyed the room quickly, then an elderly, well-dressed man with white hair and a deep suntan followed him inside, followed lastly by Aron, who locked the door behind him. Hector stood up, he looked surprised, almost bewildered. The elderly man made his way over to him and the two of them embraced.
    “Guzman el Bueno!” someone in the room cried, and everyone began clapping their hands.
    Sophie saw Hector and his father exchange a few words as they patted each other on the cheek. A waitress helped Adalberto Guzman to take off his coat, chairs were moved, people changed places, and Adalberto sat down next to his son. They immediately fell into conversation. Adalberto held Hector’s hand in his the whole time.
    Ernst Lundwall had suddenly gotten drunk. He was more talkative than before, telling Sophie what music he listened to when he was younger, and what music he chose to listen to now. Sophie tried to look interested but she kept glancing over at Hector and his father. There was something truly joyous, intense about them.
    “Excuse me a moment,” she said.
    He didn’t hear her, just continued droning on about his uninteresting youth.
    “This is my father, Adalberto Guzman.”
    Sophie shook his hand while Hector explained who Sophie was to his father in Spanish. Adalberto didn’t let go of her hand, but looked her in the eye and nodded at what Hector was saying.
    Hector stood up and offered Sophie his arm. They did a circuit of the room and Hector introduced her to a mixed group of people, and she thought that her walk through the restaurant with Hector’s arm in hers gave the impression that they were in a relationship, as if Hector wanted to show her off to his friends. She pulled away from his arm and went back to her place, where to her delight she couldn’t see Ernst anywhere. Music started playing from the speakers, people got up and started to dance. Hector came over after a while and sat down next to her.
    “Do I scare you?”
    She shook her head. He looked out over the dance floor.
    “I didn’t mean anything by