99 Days

by Jessica Galera Andreu

  “Martin!” He stopped, with the key of his old car, inside the lock.

  “Claudia!” he exclaimed, smiling. “It has made me very happy to see you again tonight. I hope you can drop by these dinners more often.”

  “I'd love to, although in my circumstances, it's a little difficult for me.”

  “I understand. I can't believe you're living in America. New York, the city of skyscrapers. I always knew you'd get high.”

  I smiled when I caught the joke.

  “Hey, you know... do you know why Marcos didn't come? I would have liked to greet him and... since I don't know if I'll be able to come back...”

  “Marcos couldn't come. The truth is that he's had quite a few occupations in the last few months.”

  “I understand.” That's a lie. I didn't understand anything. Occupations? What occupations? Seriously, couldn't he take a miserable night to go out to dinner with an old group of friends? “Do you... do you have any way to contact him?” I don't know, maybe I can call him and say hello before I go back to New York. It was funny to see you all. For once I can be here...”

  “The truth is I lost his phone number; I was always a mess with those things but I can give you his address in case you feel like going to see him.”

  I needed a few seconds to react. Go see him? I assumed that I had internalized so much the idea of not having him in front of me, that Martin's answer left me frozen.

  “Of course,” I replied automatically. “Maybe...”

  The naturalness with which Martin took my interest in Marcos made it evident that I should never have suspected what my feelings were towards him, which I was grateful for at that moment of trouble.

  Martín wrote down the address on a piece of paper and handed it to me before leaving, saying goodbye to me with two kisses on the cheeks. He had always been a very nice boy and I was happy to know that he still was.

  As his car disappeared, getting lost in the blackness of the night, I read the piece of paper he had given me. For God's sake! Marcos lived more than 330 kilometers from the village. What would have taken him so far? Woman? Children? Work? On the one hand I regretted not having taken advantage of Martin's presence to bombard him with questions, but on the other hand I was sure that if I had, I would have aroused suspicions; absurd and unjustified suspicions, because after all, I was only amused to greet someone who had awakened something beautiful in my adolescence. Of course I was engaged to James, whom I loved deeply, but one thing had nothing to do with another.

  Marga took the piece of paper from my hand, while Victoria threw her arm over my shoulder.

  “I can't believe there isn't a miserable, decent bachelor in the whole promotion,” she complained.

  I didn't answer. What was I supposed to say?

  “What's that?” asked Victoria to Marga. “Flirting with Martin, Claudia? What would the American say?”

  “Cut the crap, will you?” I answered, dumbfounded.

  “I wasn't flirting with Martin," said Marga. "But I was extracting information from him.”

  “Are you still thinking of Marcos Saavedra?”

  “No!" shouted Victoria, smiling. “For God's sake, what are you saying?” I exclaimed, indignant. “I was surprised not to see him at supper, and I simply asked Martin.” That's all.

  "Marcos didn't come to the last three dinners," Victoria clarified, as if trying to remember.

  “And what do you want his address for?” asked Marga, sarcastically.

  "That's right," Victoria intervened again. “Give it to me, I'm the one looking for a husband. You already have this John.”

  "James," I corrected her, "and I don't want at all, obviously." But Martin offered to give it to me and I didn't want to look bad with him.

  "Marcos was the most handsome boy in the class," murmured Marga, smiling at me.

  "And Claudia was crazy about him," Victoria added.

  “Cut it out, okay? And let's go home. It's late.”

  “Isn't it nice, Victoria?” asked Marga, continuing with her particular joke. “It's been 14 years since they last met, and Clau still thinks of him.”

  "You're an idiot. You know that, don't you?” I answered, turning around and walking to the car.

  I felt the footsteps and giggles of Marga and Victoria behind me.

  "You have his address," said the first one again. “Wouldn't you like to go see him?”

  "No," I replied without turning back.

  “Why not?” Victoria intervened. “To stand in front of those little blue eyes and to know how you feel 14 years later.”

  I laughed, and this time I turned around.

  “Nothing, of course. Listen, I only remember him with affection, with a certain degree of nostalgia but... for God's sake, I'm going to marry James and if you knew him, you'd agree that he's an exceptional man.”

  "No one's arguing that with you," replied Victoria, resolved. “But you can't start a life with someone when someone else is still living in your heart. Three is a multitude in matters of love. Believe me.”

  I laughed again, a laugh between nervous and sincere.

  “Victory, when you drink, you lose your north.” I have told you a thousand times.

  "You lost the north the first time you saw Marquitos," said Marga, "and as fascinating as it is, 14 years later you still haven't recovered."

  “Definitely nothing can be said to you. Come on, let's go.”

  "Hey, why don't we go see him?" Marga asked again, holding my hand.

  I sighed, without saying anything, trying to gauge the degree of seriousness that my friends were giving to that crazy conversation.

  "Yes," exclaimed Victoria enthusiastically. “Take it as a sort of... bachelorette party.”

  “Bachelorette party? I'm getting married in half a year, not tomorrow. Besides, Marcos is no streaper.”

  "To our misfortune," replied Victoria. Above all, yours.

  Marga burst out laughing while I shook my head. But if it all seemed so crazy to me, why hadn't I already gotten into the car and rushed the girls to leave? Why was she still standing there, under the thin curtain of rain, listening to them and considering their crazy suggestion?

  "You're pretty sure you don't have feelings for him anymore," Victoria continued. “In that case, just say hello to him, say goodbye in some way, and put aside what might have been but wasn't. Marry your totally determined American.”

  “Victoria, I am totally determined to marry him. Marcos is no obstacle in that and... It's so surreal that I have to explain this to you...”

  "Well, if you're so sure and don't fear what Marcos might awaken in you, then let's go see him," Marga intervened. “Carlos will be on a two-day trip for the blissful job. He'll almost appreciate it if I don't spend them alone.”

  “I'm leaving the day after tomorrow. It would be good for me to rest during the day and spend some time with my parents. I've barely seen their hair.”

  "Oh, come on," complained Marga again. “You make so much money that you can come whenever you want to see your parents. But this...this may be a unique occasion, Claudia.”

  I sighed as I shook my head. I couldn't deny that seeing Marcos made me look forward to it, and no matter how crazy it all turned out to be, I ended up accepting, although surely the extra cups had something to do with that determination.

  CHAPTER 3

  At times, I couldn't help but think that we were going to have an accident. My mind was continuously distracted by the same question: "what am I doing here?" After a night of rest and a quiet breakfast with my parents, I left home with the firm determination to find Marcos Saavedra. So there I was, along with the crazy ones Marga and Victoria, driving the vehicle of the first of them towards a small coastal village located almost 330 kilometers from ours. That meant in time, a little more than three hours, so that the girls and I had taken turns at the wheel. The last stretch was precisely the one I made myself.

  A scorching sun and an infernal heat welcomed us to a charmin
g coastal village with white facades and flowers splashing them. The smell of salt reached up to my nose and only the nerves in my stomach overcame the desire to run to the beach and forget that madness. I kept telling myself how ridiculous it was to feel that way, but my sanity tried to back me up, alluding to how stupid I would look by standing in front of him and telling him that I had travelled 300 kilometers just to greet him. he'd think I'd gone completely insane and that, relying on him remembering me, which is quite improbable. Anyway, the madness was already underway, so all I had to do was throw myself into the sea with all my clothes on, and that it was what God wanted. Contrary to what I had believed, my mother was delighted that I postponed my return to the United States for a couple more days to go out with Marga and Victoria, as we used to do in the old days.

  "Okay, turn right," Marga pointed to me as she looked at the map she was carrying. Victoria, for her part, shook her head in the back seat.

  "I can't believe we're pulling the map instead of the GPS," I complained. “At what epoch did you stay?”

  "Will you just shut up?" replied Marga. “I'm sick and tired of listening to that contraption repeat the same thing 20 times. Besides, my instinct is much more useful than his old-fashioned indications.”

  “Oh, yes, of course... That's why we left in a village 30 kilometers before it touched.”

  “They've done some work on the road; I got confused. But that thing would have done the same.”

  “Girls, can you stop arguing and tell me how I'm doing?”

  "Take the first exit at that roundabout and we should already be in the urbanization," Marga said again. “According to Martin's indications, the house is number eight.”

  “I can't believe we're doing this...” I whispered, following my friend's instructions.

  I stopped the car as soon as I had left number six behind, as the flirtatious little houses standing in procession on the left side of the roadway were the pairs.

  "It has to be there," Victoria intervened, leaning forward and holding on to Marga's and my own seats.

  “Hey, there's someone...”

  Marga's announced murmur made my hair stand on end. There was a man in the garden wearing a white short-sleeved shirt and jeans. We could see him from behind and at a relatively considerable distance, so we couldn't be sure it was him but the possibility turned my stomach into a roller coaster.

  "Oh, MY GOD," almost shouted Marga. “Yes, it is.”

  “How do you know?” exclaimed Victoria. “You can't see a pepper from here.”

  “Of course you can see it. I'm telling you, it's him.”

  And indeed, it was. The man turned, wiping his hands with a greasy rag full of dirt, and any other sensation dissipated inside me: it was Marcos. The same Marcos that when we were just 14 years old but much more mature, more attractive even if it fit, more man. The same blue eyes, the same tantalizing lips and a naughty innocence drawn on his face. How could so little have changed?

  “Isn't he gorgeous?” Marga asked me, hitting me on the arm with the elbow.

  "Carlos would be proud of you, Marga," Victoria said. "How does it feel, Clau?" she added.

  I smiled back at her while I shook my head.

  “Nostalgia, I told you. Illusion. It makes me happy to see him again.”"Well, let's get to work," Victoria said again. “Go and greet him.”

  “I'm not going to greet him with you here, as spectators. I demand that you leave.”

  “Go away?” Marga was surprised. “Where? You're only supposed to greet him, aren't you?”

  “Ha!” said Victoria. “We'll leave as soon as we see you talking to him. You're capable of leaving without saying a word, and I haven't done a 'four' in this car for three hours for nothing.”

  “I'll say hello and talk to him. Nor have I been in the same position as you for three hours to say 'hello' and get out, don't you think?”

  Marga and Victoria exchanged significant glances. My strange change of attitude had not gone unnoticed by either of them: I had gone from being reluctant to go on that trip to suddenly throwing them out so that I could extend myself to Marcos. I didn't mean to lengthen the conversation too much but it was the only way to get them to leave and not have them there, controlling every movement.

  "That's right," said Marga then. “Go say hello and we'll leave so you can talk to him quietly for as long as you need. We'll be waiting for you at the hotel.”

  “You don't even know if there will be any free rooms.”

  "Of course there will be," replied Marga. “We're not in holiday season and the occupation is very low out of season. Besides, don't worry about it. When you're done, call us and we'll come and get you.”

  "We'll be anxious," Victoria added.

  I snorted and got my courage. Every step I took confirmed my terrible mental condition, I who had always been a sane, rational and centered girl. Surely the fact that Victoria was a psychologist had a lot to do with her giving in to her insistence and that of Marga herself. If not, it was not explained. The fact is that there I was, walking towards Marcos' house, with my legs trembling and my stomach knotted. I turned a couple of times, unable to distinguish the faces of Marga and Victoria, whom I imagined laughing inside the vehicle.

  When I arrived at the small metal door separating the inside of the property and the street, I confirmed that Marcos was repairing a motorcycle. Already in high school, cars and motorcycles had been his great passion and, apparently, that was still intact in him as well. I cleared my throat, in an idiot way. Everything in me was an idiot that afternoon.

  "Hello..." I greeted him. I couldn't believe it.

  He turned and for a fleeting moment I felt the floor wobble under my feet. How could it be possible that I had achieved such an effect?

  He had been crouching, so he got up when he saw me and took a couple of steps forward, saying nothing.

  “I am... I am...” Idiot? Asshole? Ridiculous? That's what he was going to realize, so I decided to give him my name, “Claudia Delgado. I don't know... if you'll remember me.”

  Marcos frowned and waited for me to clarify something more. Fantastic. I had no idea who he was.

  “We were classmates in high school, remember?”

  Something in his expression relaxed and I was sure he had finally noticed my identity.

  “And what did you want?” he just asked.

  “Well, actually... I was at the promotional dinner organized by the kids and... back to my... destiny had to pass through here. I told Martin Garcia and, um... he told me you happened to live here, so I decided.... Well, I had a few hours off before I left and... it made me illusion... grace to pass to... greet you. You weren't at dinner.”

  A beautiful smile was drawn tenuously on his face.

  “No, I wasn't.”

  “It's... a pity.”

  “I'm sure you did. Did you come all the way from there to greet me?” he asked, after a long silence.

  "No!" I replied, too quickly. “I mean, I'm telling you, I was leaving and well, I had to stop by and Martin told me that you...”

  “Yes, you already told me. Anyway, I... I don't know, would you... would you like a drink?”

  It was thrown. I had broken the ice and it was obvious that Marcos had to be crossing me out as crazy inside, so I had nothing more to lose, because my dignity should have formed a puddle in his door. And maybe I would have something to gain if I accepted. “If not, what should I care?” Maybe I even appreciated it. If, beyond preserving an imposing physique, Marcos Saavedra had become a bitter man who did not like to go to promotional dinners or receive surprise visits from old friends, that could be a first step to begin to see him with bitterness or reluctance, something that had suddenly become an absurd and pressing need.

  “The truth is that I don't feel like going out very much," he replied.

  Confirmed, he is bitter and antisocial; nothing to do with that adorable being and friend of all that I fell in love with. “But you can come in, if you like.”


  He took a couple more steps and opened the little fence that kept me on the other side of his house. Shit. He accepted the unexpected visit of a stupid, stuttering, half-assed former schoolmate and did it with a smile on his face.

  "Of course," I accepted.

  ***

  I sipped the glass of wine that had been served to me and left it empty again. Marcos had initially offered me some coffee but I knew that if I didn't take something that would help me relax and uninhibit me, I would spend the little time I was going to be there, confirming that I had become a total jerk, stuttering, talking about the weather and asking him stupid questions that would bore him. I knew I was a coward because I needed some alcohol to throw myself at the daring fact of looking like a normal person, but yes, that afternoon I needed it.

  “Martin told me you were busy but I don't know... it would have been nice to see you there.”

  Marcos smiled again. If I didn't stop, I would end up killing him because I actually loved it a little more each time I did it. Was it possible that my platonic love as a teenager kept waking me up almost 20 years later?

  “I don't find such events especially eye-catching. I have the impression that those who feel unlucky in life need to somehow prove that there are still others less fortunate.”

  “Yes, I suppose there is some of that but I don't have the feeling that they can feel that with you. You have a beautiful house two steps from the sea. You're the only one who doesn't look 20 years older and surely nothing in your life is worse than Carlos Andrade's. Do you know he's gone bald?”

  I laughed stupidly at Marcos' smile. Wine began to make its own through my helpless organism, little accustomed to such invasions. However, far from feeling ashamed, I was grateful for that sensation. Because no matter how ridiculous it was, there was something I needed to confess to him, something that, I was sure, would make me stop thinking about him the way I had been doing in the last few hours. Marcos Saavedra had been in my life something like a ghost of the past, one of those who can't leave at all if they don't fix the pending issues that linked him to a previous existence.