“Well… a few hours ago,” Rebeca manages to reply.
Martina nods slowly. Her fingers play with the key, twirling it nervously between her fingers.
“What a coincidence…” Martina breaks off and shakes her head. “Of all the apartments in Santander, you had to end up in this one…”
“Of all the cities in Spain, and I go and choose this one. Damn it.”
Rebeca feels a knot in her stomach. Right now she wants to yell at her about how things turned out. But above all, her mind imagines her crossing the few steps that separate them to see if her mouth still tastes the same.
“I didn’t know you lived here,” she says instead. And Rebeca shakes her head mentally. “I didn’t even know you were still in Spain.”
Martina lets out a laugh.
“Well, there you go. Life has a pretty twisted sense of humor.” She takes a step toward her, and Rebeca instinctively steps back, bumping into her own doorframe. “Are you alone? I mean… did you come here alone?”
The question implies too many things. Rebeca feels the heat rising to her neck.
“Yes.”
Something shifts in Martina’s expression. A fleeting sense of relief that she tries to hide by looking down. When she looks up again, her eyes lock onto Rebeca’s with that intensity that always left her speechless.
“Listen… I don’t want this to be awkward. We’re adults. We can… I don’t know, say hi when we run into each other on the landing. Grab a coffee sometime, if you feel like it. For old times’ sake.”
“Old times.” The words pierce Rebeca with excruciating pain.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Martina tilts her head slightly.
“Are you still mad?” she dares to ask. “After six years…”
“I’m not angry,” Rebeca lies. “I just… don’t want any complications.”
“Right, complications,” Martina repeats, and her mouth curves into a bitter smile. “You were always an expert at avoiding them. Until you stopped avoiding me.”
Rebeca feels as if she can’t breathe.
“I’m not having this conversation on the landing,” Rebeca mutters, her hand already pushing against the door.
“Wait,” Martina says quickly, reaching out as if to hold her back. Her fingers barely brush the edge of the door, and that slightest touch is enough to send a shiver down Rebeca’s arm. “Rebeca, please…”
But Rebeca reacts first. The urge to escape comes on so suddenly that she barely has time to process it, and she quickly slams the door shut.
Her breathing has become irregular. Her heart is beating too fast, pounding against her ribs. She leans her back against the door, closing her eyes, trying to sort out the thoughts colliding with one another inside her head.
“Martina is here. In the apartment next door.”
The past that had been haunting her for so long has just appeared on the other side of a wall, more alive and dangerous than ever.
Rebeca steps away from the door and reaches into her pants pocket for her phone. Her fingers tremble slightly as she taps the screen to find her best friend’s contact.
The ringtone sounds twice before Bruno answers.
“If you’re calling to tell me you’ve already organized the bookshelves alphabetically, let me remind you that it’s still too early to obsess over details,” he says teasingly.
He almost makes her smile.
Rebeca runs a hand over her face, trying to calm down.
