Their mother grimaced. Her expression was revolting.
“At the very least, you could have phoned and let us know you still cared for us,” she told him.
Lucas replied, “That’s a two-way street.”
Finally she looked at me for the first time, knitting her brows. “And who are you?”
Lucas went to answer, but his sister cut him off. “Her name’s Maya. She’s a friend of Lucas’s.”
Seeming to apologize with his eyes, Lucas introduced his mother. “Maya, this is Águeda.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said. “I’m so sorry for what’s happened to your husband.”
Ignoring me, her face emotionless, Águeda turned to Lucas again as I felt my pulse pounding in my temples, and said, “Son, I need to talk to you about your father. In private, if possible.”
His cheeks reddening—I could tell he was angry at how his mother was treating me—he started to reply, “Whatever you have to say…” but I interrupted, telling him I would wait outside. He asked me not to, but I said it was better that way, and anyhow, I wanted to get a coffee from the machine. He walked a few steps away, apologizing over and over, telling me I should just ignore his mother.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, trying to calm him down. “I’m fine. But I really do think you two ought to talk alone. Please, don’t worry.”
Ashamed, flushed, he whispered that he didn’t want me to go.
“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”
I squeezed his hand and walked off, weak in the knees. I needed to get away from that woman as quickly as possible before I said something I’d regret.
I pushed open the door, closed my eyes, and counted to ten. Then I kept walking until I found the vending machines. Money in my hand, reading the options, I changed my mind and put my money away. That encounter with Lucas’s family had made me almost sick to my stomach, and I had the feeling a coffee would only make it worse. I collapsed into a chair, and a thought crept into my mind and started settling in there.
Maybe I had been wrong, convincing Lucas to come back to Madrid.
Maybe I had pushed him to close a chapter of his life he wasn’t ready to turn back to.
Maybe he didn’t need to get over what had happened. Maybe all he needed was to forget about it and stay where he was, safe from that family that had hurt him so.
Maybe he had done it for me. Because he thought it was what I needed. An excuse to run away without looking like that was what I was doing. In fact, I was sure it was that when I looked deep into my heart, but that knowledge made me feel so miserable that I ignored it.
46
“Are you going to be OK?” he asked me for the third time.
Seeing the kindness, the vulnerability in his eyes, I nodded and stroked his cheek. “You’re the one who’s going to have to spend the night in the hospital.”
He lifted my wrist and kissed it. “I don’t know how long this is going to take, but we should talk about what we want to do afterward.”
I knew what he meant. Going back to Sorrento. Where his things were. His home. His life. My life. The life I had built without realizing it and had lost before I’d really known what I had.
Going back wasn’t an option for me anymore.
But neither was losing Lucas.
I felt so selfish, but in that moment, I couldn’t help it, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to go back. We had to find a way. Another path. Start over, the two of us, together, somewhere. Because whatever you want to say about the world, that’s one thing it’s got going for it: It’s big, and you can always begin again.
“We’ll talk,” I whispered.
“Listen,” Lucas told me, “don’t lock yourself up in here. Go take a stroll.”
“To where?”
“Go hang out with your friend Matías. Call him and tell him you’re back.”
