"Last name."
"Peral Ferret."
"First names."
"Jaume Isidre Benet."
"Born where?"
"Barcelona."
"Date of birth?"
"February 29th. 1960."
"Twenty ninth?"
"Right. It was a leap year."
"Home address?"
"Carrer de Sant Mus. Number 12."
"Here in Sitges?"
"Sure."
"Good. Then, let's hear your version of the facts."
Slowly Jaume started to relate his story; trying to be as exact and complete as possible, while the corporal was typing the text of his statement. From time to time, the lieutenant posed questions, mostly for clarification.
At one point, the man asked: "You were cruising, correct?"
"No. I am a waiter at La Brasa restaurant, in Passeig de la Ribera."
"Ah, a four star. Yet from our inquiries, it appears you're a hustler."
"Some malevolent and envious person could have said so."
"You mean it's not true that you have sex with men?"
"No, that's true. But not for money."
"Mister Bowens says he paid you."
"Sure, he tried. Just to insult me. But I tore the check up. You can check with the bank and verify that I didn't cash it."
"Anyway, you are a homosexual."
"It is not against the law."
"No, it's not. Do you have a sexual relationship with this Mister Bowens?"
"I had. It's over, now."
The interrogation continued quick and precise. Jaume quietly answered all the questions, remaining calm and self controlled. He never lost his composure, in spite of the somewhat mocking attitude of the lieutenant.
It was the first time anything like this had happened, with Kevin Bowens. The man had told him in an icy voice: "Go away, you disgust me. You're a dirty tart, a mangy dog, a revolting bastard..."
Jaume saw red and attacked him; punching and kicking. Unfortunately, Jaume was strong and it was Mister Bowens who got the worst of it. And now here he was, at the police station, accused of assault. Moreover to a foreign tourist. Jaume broke his nose. They told him the man arrived at the hospital semi-conscious, dirty and covered in blood. After being treated, as soon as he had recovered his senses, the man reported the assault to the police. Now Jaume was here, accused of assault, occasioning actual bodily harm, and prostitution. He admitted everything, but denied being a prostitute.
When the interrogation was over, the lieutenant read back his statement, and he signed it. He was free to go, with the warning not to leave Sitges.
Yes, he felt bad. Jaume didn't like violence, and yet he had been violent. He admitted his guilt. He was ready to pay for his mistake.
What would be his punishment? Sure, the lawyer will make a good defence. But he didn't want him to invent excuses or lies.
Just one thing bugged him - that Kevin would not pay for his behaviour. Sure, he paid for it with his nice broken nose, but that was not justice, it was just revenge. Jaume would have liked justice, instead. But he was sure that wouldn't happen.
He had fooled himself, about Kevin. He judged him to be an open minded person; understanding, intelligent, and above all, in love. He could never have been more wrong! Is it possible that he would always fall in love with the wrong person? Would he never find the right companion? His Mister Right? True, he was still young, just twenty years old. But since he was fifteen, he had been looking, searching from that great love. A quarter of his life.
When he was back home, he excused himself to Juan and Miguel, who were waiting for him. He went into his room, plopped onto his bed, lying on his stomach, his head resting on his arms.
And reconsidered his life.