Immortal Love

by Carmen Ferreiro-Esteban

  “There was an accident. We’re taking you to the hospital.”

  “An accident?” For a moment he looked confused then, as understanding dawned in his eyes, he grabbed the tubing from the IV and yanked it from his arm.

  Immediately Chris was upon him. Bécquer fought back with energy I didn’t imagine he could have. But the fight didn’t last long. Soon, the paramedic had him restrained and bound to the stretcher. Once the IV was again dripping in his arm, Chris moved back.

  “Don’t get him excited,” he told me, as if I were the one responsible for Bécquer’s reaction. But seeing no point in arguing, I nodded and sat again by Bécquer’s side.

  “You have to help me,” Bécquer asked me in Spanish now, to keep the paramedic from following our conversation, I guessed. “I was supposed to die tonight.”

  “I won’t let you die.”

  “Carla, please, don’t make this more difficult for me. I can’t live. I don’t want to live.”

  “I’m sorry, Bécquer. I’m so sorry.”

  “So you know?”

  “Richard told me.”

  “Richard? Oh! You mean he told you about my legs?”

  I nodded. “Is it true, Bécquer? Are you human?”

  He didn’t deny it. He just stared at me with his dark eyes that seemed even darker now, sunk so deep in his gaunt face.

  “The Elders … ” I hesitated, “did they make you human?”

  “Yes. My punishment for making Beatriz immortal.”

  “But you didn’t change her. She stole your blood.”

  “That’s a technicality, Carla. I sired her, and the sentence was that I should die. I begged Cesar, the Elder’s messenger, for a week to finish your contract. And when he agreed he asked for my word that after the week was over I’d kill myself. So, you see, I’ve no choice.”

  “Yes, you have,” I bluffed. “Federico will talk to the Elders. He will convince them to change their sentence.”

  “Federico knows?”

  “He’s coming tonight.”

  Bécquer groaned. “Why did you tell him? There’s nothing he can do. The Elders have already decided. You must let me be.”

  I shook my head. “I won’t.”

  “Why not? You broke your contract with me today. You were not to see me again. What difference does it make to you whether I live or die?”

  “I ended my contract with you to keep my children safe. I don’t want you to die.”

  “Do you hate me so much that you want me to live like this, broken and impotent, a shadow of the god I was?”

  “You cannot really mean that. You’re still you, Bécquer. No matter what has happened. Taking your life is selfish.”

  “Selfish?”

  “Yes, selfish. Are you really so blind that you don’t know you have friends who care for you and would be devastated were you to die?”

  “Do I really?”

  “Don’t tell me you don’t know that Richard is totally smitten with you. He’s certain your clients will wait if you decided to take a break. And Federico is worried sick about you. And Ryan looks up to you. You can’t let him down.”

  Bécquer closed his eyes while I rambled on, as if embarrassed by my barely concealed distress. He opened them when I finished and fixed his dark stare on me.

  “And you?” he whispered. “If I die, would you mourn me for a day?”

  My vision blurred by tears. I was still struggling to find my voice when the ambulance came to a stop, and Chris asked me to move aside.

  Powerless I watched, as they wheeled Bécquer away.

  • • •

  Rachel was talking with the receptionist when I came into the hospital.

  Even though Richard had insisted that Rachel and Bécquer were not in a relationship, her distressed behavior that afternoon and her already being at the hospital seemed to suggest otherwise. Yet, on the list of people who cared for Bécquer that I had just enumerated for him I had forgotten to mention her. A simple mistake or an unconscious wish that Richard was right?

  The girl turned from the desk as I came in, and as our eyes met, she rushed to my side. She was wearing a short plaid parka over tight black jeans, a yellow scarf around her neck. In her perfectly made-up face, her eyes were no longer red, but the tension was clear in her voice as she asked, “Where is Bécquer? Will he be all right?”

  Her face relaxed a little when I told her Bécquer had been conscious when I left him.

  “David called me,” she explained as we walked to the waiting area.

  I had guessed that much.

  “So, he’s conscious,” she repeated when we sat facing each other in a corner of an almost empty waiting room. “That’s a good sign, isn’t it? He’ll recover.”

  “Yes. But … ” I couldn’t tell her Bécquer’s life was still in jeopardy because the Elders wanted him dead. Not without learning first how much she knew. “He seems depressed,” I continued watching for her reaction. “Not surprising, of course, given his recent prognosis after the accident.”

  “It was not an accident.” Rachel’s voice that had been subdued before was now so loud several of the people scattered around the room looked up. “A man came to see Bécquer last Monday,” she continued in a lower tone. “A man, tall and dark. ‘Cesar,’ he said, when I asked him for his name. He didn’t wait for me to announce his arrival. As soon as I let him in, he dashed past me to Bécquer’s study as if he owned the house. So I assumed they were friends. But I was wrong. Bécquer was not happy to see him, that much was clear, although he smiled at me and told me I could take the afternoon off.”

  “I thought it was you who found Bécquer.”

  “I did,” Rachel said, her eyes somewhat unfocused. “I didn’t leave as he asked me to. Cesar made me uncomfortable, and I didn’t want Bécquer to be alone with him. So I waited. And waited. But he never came out of the study. When I gathered my courage and knocked at the door, nobody answered, so I went in. Bécquer was unconscious on the floor and Cesar was gone.

  “Bécquer told the doctors he had fallen down the stairs, but that is impossible. He was nowhere near the stairs when I found him. I think Bécquer and Cesar fought and Cesar is responsible for his condition.”

  “You don’t believe me?” Rachel asked when I said nothing. “I knew you wouldn’t. That’s why I brought this.” She reached into a canvas bag hanging from the back of her chair and produced a manila envelope. “Bécquer gave me this in the morning and asked me to mail it to you, even though you were coming in the afternoon.”

  “It’s addressed to you,” she explained as I frowned. “My guess is that he wrote to you to explain what happened.”

  I took the envelope she offered. Inside I found a leather-bound journal filled with Bécquer’s florid handwriting. A letter-size envelope was concealed among its pages.

  My heart beating hard, I tore open the envelope, unfolded the letter, and started reading.

  Dear Carla,

  I’m writing this letter as I wait for you to come. When you read it, I’ll be dead.

  Cesar, one of the Elders, came last Monday. His orders were to kill me, but I pleaded with him to let me live for a week longer so that I could finish my contract with you. He agreed after I promised I would take my own life afterward. As a precaution, he made me mortal and severed my spine so I would not escape.

  Once I’m gone, the Elders will destroy any shred of evidence that would reveal their or my own existence as an immortal. I abided by their desires when I was first changed. I told my friends to burn my old journals and the letters to my brother where I mentioned my secret life, and I would have done the same today, except that, if I do, you would forget me. I’m fool enough to believe you care for me just a little, just enough to want to know who I really was.

  Please believe me when I say I didn’t kill myself out of despair, nor because I am a coward and don’t want to face life in my present condition. I did it only because I promised Cesar I would do so.

  My m
ortality has returned to me the gift of writing. Reason enough to make me want to live this mortal life. The other reason, I suppose you’ve already guessed, it’s you.

  Alas, the choice has been taken from me, and so I will die tonight. But in my last act of defiance, I’m sending you this diary. Read it or burn it, as you please. But know, in either case, that my main regret as I prepare to die is that I did not have more time to be with you.

  Goodbye Carla. I hope that, despite my many faults, you will remember me. And if you, I dare not hope, were to love me in return, know I will remain with you forever, made immortal by your love.

  Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer

  “Does he mention Cesar?”

  Rachel’s voice startled me, bringing me back to the hospital room.

  I nodded. “Yes, Cesar caused his ‘accident’ last Monday.”

  “Then we have to tell the police. He must pay for what he did.”

  “No. I don’t think we should interfere. The decision must be Bécquer’s.”

  Rachel hesitated.

  “Please wait, at least until we talk to him. There is no last name in the letter. No way to trace this Cesar, or prove he’s real. It’s our word against Bécquer’s.”

  “And the notebook?” she said pointing at Bécquer’s diary sitting on my lap. “Maybe he tells more about Cesar there.”

  I knew the diary would not help us locate Cesar either because Cesar was an immortal, thus beyond human reach. Yet, curious to know what Bécquer had written, I opened it to the first page.

  I was eleven when I met Lucrezia on the patio of my aunt’s house. The year was 1847 and Sevilla was in spring, but not my heart, for my heart was still frozen in the winter morning, two months past, that had seen my mother die.

  “She’s in heaven,” the priest had said, “because God had need of her.”

  I nodded at him in fake assent, for the fear of the Church had been ingrained in me from the time I was a little boy and I knew better than to argue with my betters. But whatever need God had of Mother, I thought it was selfish of Him to take her from me and my seven brothers; God had the whole world to choose from and He had already taken Father from us.

  Overwhelmed by my loss and unable to sleep, I took to wandering the silent house in the dark of night. My aunt’s house, like most houses in Sevilla at the time, was built around a patio, its walls washed white, an orange tree on a corner and in the middle a running fountain to help fight the unbearable heat that came with summer. And it was sitting on the low ridge of the stone basin I saw Lucrezia for the first time.

  Bécquer’s words jumped at me from the page, kidnapping me against my will. I’d have continued reading, oblivious to Rachel and my foreign surroundings, if her voice had not interrupted me.

  “Does he say who this Cesar is?”

  I put the notebook down and, feeling strangely conscious as if I had been found peering through the window into somebody’s home, I shook my head. “No, he doesn’t. I don’t think we’ll find any clue about Cesar here.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s just a story. I think Bécquer meant for me to have it only after his death. I’m not sure I should read it while he’s still alive.”

  “And is he? Is Bécquer alive?”

  I looked up, startled by the familiar and unexpected voice.

  From his six feet of height, Ryan looked down at me.

  Chapter Eighteen: In the Hospital

  “Ryan?” I half stood then sat back again, worn down by my son’s scowl. “What are you doing here?”

  “Never mind that,” Ryan said, his voice cold. “Tell me about Bécquer.”

  “The doctors are with him now. But how did you — ?”

  “Madison told me you were at Bécquer’s. I thought it would be a good time to confront you two together and try to change your mind about my not seeing him, so I went there. David told me what happened.

  “I’m going to see him,” he added lowering his lanky frame in the chair across from us. “Don’t try to stop me.”

  “I won’t, Ryan. I think it would be good for him to see that you care.”

  Ryan scowled as if ready to argue then frowned. “You mean you’re all right with that?”

  “Yes, Ryan.” Turning toward the girl sitting by my side, I added, “And this is Rachel, by the way.”

  Ryan looked at Rachel, as if he had just realized she was there, which knowing him, he probably had. Bending forward, he extended his hand to her. “I’m Ryan,” he said, reverting to his usual charming self. But when he turned to me, his voice was cold again. “It’s your fault. You know that, right?”

  “Ryan, please. I wasn’t even there.”

  “It’s your fault because you didn’t let me see him. If I had, I would have noticed Bécquer was depressed. I would have helped him.”

  “It’s not so simple. Bécquer — ”

  “ — can’t walk. I know. David told me. But you didn’t. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Don’t blame your mother,” Rachel said before I could answer. “I was with him every day this past week, and he never seemed depressed to me. So, actually, if someone is to blame it would be me.”

  “Of course not,” Ryan told her. “How could you have known?”

  By the eagerness of his voice, I knew the irony of his statement was lost on him.

  “Thanks.” Rachel frowned, as her eyes focused on his face. “I know you, I think. Aren’t you the second guitar from Shut Up and Listen?”

  “I am.” Ryan smiled, obviously pleased at being recognized. “Or was, I guess. I’m not sure if the band will hold together now that Matt’s gone.”

  “Why not? You could take his place as leader.”

  Ryan beamed at the girl.

  His anger at me momentarily forgotten, he plunged into a technical discussion of his possible suitability for the job while Rachel smiled at him. Relieved at the respite this turn of the conversation provided, I slid Bécquer’s notebook and letter in my handbag and grabbed my phone.

  I had called Federico from Bécquer’s house and, when I got no answer, left a message on his voice mail. He had not called me back. Or maybe he had, I thought as I realized my phone was dead. I threw it back in my purse and asked Ryan to lend me his.

  “Why?” Ryan snapped.

  Because I’m asking, I wanted to say, but that would have gotten us nowhere. “Because Federico and Matt are driving back tonight to be with Bécquer,” I said instead, “and they don’t know he’s here.”

  Without a word, he took his cell phone from his pocket and handed it to me.

  I was punching Federico’s number when the doors to the ER swung open and a nurse came through. I froze and watched as, after a brief interchange with the receptionist, she started toward the area where we were sitting. The three of us stood as one.

  “How is he?” I asked, after the nurse confirmed we were waiting for him.

  “His vitals are stable,” she informed us in a professional voice. “But we want to keep him through the night for observation.”

  “I want to see him,” Ryan said.

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” The nurse’s tone became imperious. “He has requested to be left alone. So you’ll have to wait until morning.”

  He’s planning to do it again, I thought while Ryan insisted. “Bécquer doesn’t know I’m here. He would see me if he knew. I’m his nephew.”

  The nurse shook her head, her annoyance unmistakable now. “Not tonight.”

  I grabbed Ryan’s arm and pulled at him, afraid that if he continued pressing the nurse with his demands, he would ruin not only his, but also my chance of seeing Bécquer.

  “It’s all right, Ryan. You’ll see him tomorrow,” I coaxed him.

  He was about to argue when Rachel set her hand on his other arm. “Come on, Ryan. Your mother’s right. Let’s go. You can come back early in the morning.”

  Ryan hesitated for a moment then nodded at Rachel and shaking himself free of my gras
p, moved back.

  I asked the nurse for more details about Bécquer’s condition while I waited for Rachel and Ryan to reach the exit doors. Then I steered the conversation back to the issue of seeing Bécquer.

  “I won’t bother him,” I told her, trying to keep the anxiety from my voice. “But I would very much like to stay in the room with him tonight.” As she shook her head, I rushed in, “You must let me stay with him. He’ll try to kill himself again. He admitted that much to me.”

  A flash of anger crossed the nurse’s eyes. “I assure you your brother will not hurt himself here. In this hospital, we observe the highest standards of safety.”

  Turning her back on me, she disappeared through the swinging doors.

  “He’s not my brother,” I said to no one in particular as I watched the door swing, alternately inviting and rejecting me. I considered following her, but glanced at the reception desk and noted the girl had followed our conversation and was watching me.

  Frustrated, I went back to my seat and considered my possibilities. Going home was out of the question. Whatever high standards the hospital had, I knew Bécquer was not safe. I would wait for another nurse to come by and ask her to be taken to his room. In the meantime, I would pray the haughty nurse was right.

  Lucky for me, Ryan had forgotten to ask for his phone back. This time Federico answered on the first ring.

  “He got it wrong,” he said after I repeated what Bécquer had told me during the ambulance ride. “I just talked with the Elders. Their sentence was to make him human. ‘A life for a life,’ that is how they phrased it. He will die eventually, of course, as all humans do, but the messenger was not supposed to kill him. He’s not supposed to be paralyzed either.”

  “Bécquer said that Cesar did it so he could not flee.”

  Federico swore. “Cesar? No wonder. I should have guessed.”

  “Guessed what?”

  “Cesar hates Bécquer. So he obviously twisted the Elders’ words to push Bécquer to kill himself, then paralyzed him just for his enjoyment. It fits just perfectly with his treacherous mind. His immortality has only increased the thirst for blood and depravity that made him infamous when he was human.”