I sat on a bench by the indoor garden and waited patiently, watching the travelers move to and fro. Some were alone, some accompanied. Some were reuniting, some were saying goodbyes.See you later, so good to have you back.Because that’s what it all is: people and coming and going in our lives, us departing or arriving in theirs. And no matter what, life goes on. It doesn’t stop, doesn’t break off. It just follows a different rhythm, turns in a different direction.
On the screen, the track number for my train appeared, and as I got in line for security, I heard my name, “Maya…”
My heart ached and I turned to find Lucas just a few feet away,sopping wet. Water was dripping from his hair, and his chest was rising and falling from the effort of running. He opened his mouth, but struggled to get a word out. Then he held up the note I’d left him, wet, the ink running, and said, “Are you serious? This is it?”
Everyone was looking at him, but he didn’t seem to care. “How did you know I was here?” I asked.
“You left the computer on with your travel receipt right there on the screen. Are you serious, Maya? A note? A note is all I deserve?”
“No. But this is the best thing.”
“For who?” He looked at me with glassy eyes. “I thought we were going to talk?”
“Yeah, that’s what you said. That we were going to talk. Yesterday.”
He blinked and tugged at his hair in frustration. He stepped closer. I saw so many things in his face. Most prominent among them: fear.
“Is this because of yesterday? I told you I was sorry.”
“It’s for yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that, Lucas.”
“I know I’ve been busy, but this is temporary. My father…”
His phone started ringing. I noticed how nervous he was as he tried to pretend to ignore it.
“Lucas, this isn’t going to work,” I said.
“Not if you give up.”
“I’m not giving up. I’m accepting the truth.”
His phone kept ringing. He pulled it out and rejected the call. “What truth, Maya?”
“That you’re in the same place you were in two years ago, before you left here. You’re still the same person that you told me about in Sorrento. The person you couldn’t stand being.”
He looked down as if he’d looked at himself in a mirror and hadn’t liked what he’d seen.
“That’s not true,” he grumbled.
His phone rang again. It was driving me crazy. He rejected the call a second time.
“It is true, Lucas, and you know it. As soon as you set foot in Madrid, you went back to your old ways. And I can’t do anything about it. I can’t help you. You need to change, but it has to come from you.”
“Fine. I’ll do it. I promise. I’ll fix things. Just give me a couple of days, until my sister can take over at the company.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not? Where are you going?”
“I’ve got my own problems to solve,” I said.
“Maya, dammit, we can fix this! Just stay a little longer. We’ll… We can go somewhere and talk. Shit!” His phone rang a fourth time. He picked up, enraged, and brought it to his ear, saying, “What? No. It’s a bad time. Because I said no… I’ll call you when I can.”
I was crushed. I could have broken down right there. But I kept the sorrow in and let the anger out. The rage. The indignation. I didn’t hold back. I reminded him that this was the best thing for both of us. He needed to find himself. And I damn sure hoped he did.
I would miss him. I knew I would. Or rather, I’d miss the guy I met in Sorrento. The one who made me crazy thinking about a piece of chocolate cake. The one who danced to a love song with me and whispered the words into my ear. The one who kissed me under a stormy sky and showed me what sex could really be. The one I learned to make love with, the one who taught me to let go. To count the stars and to dream of two points in the universe.
I turned and handed my ticket to a railway worker who scanned the bar code and told me to put my suitcase on the scanner belt.
