Martina’s phone vibrates on the table. She stares at it without touching it for a second, as if she already knows what she’ll find on the screen. When she finally picks it up, the message appears illuminated with an almost provocative clarity.
“I think we should invite her to dinner. Smooth things over, don’t you think?”
Martina feels a small current run through her chest. For a moment she stares at the words in silence, trying to decide if the suggestion is naive or deliberately reckless. Then she turns the phone over and places it face down on the desk, as if by hiding the screen she could also hide the conversation they will inevitably have later.
“Is everything okay?”
Cora’s voice breaks the thread of her thoughts.
Martina looks up. Cora Vidal watches her from across the table with a curious expression, her eyebrows slightly arched and her coffee suspended halfway between the table and her lips.
Martina sighs.
“Not really.”
She leans back slightly in her chair before adding:
“Julia’s got it into her head that it would be a good idea to invite Rebeca over for dinner.”
For a second, silence falls between them.
Cora blinks.
“Invite her… to dinner?” she repeats, as if she needs to make sure she heard correctly.
Martina nods, and it’s clear she’s tired of thinking about it—very tired.
“Exactly.”
Cora carefully sets her cup down on the table and then leans forward slightly.
“Okay,” she says, and the tone with which she utters the word isn’t exactly enthusiastic. “And what do you think?”
Martina shrugs.
“What am I supposed to think? That it’s a terrible idea.” Martina takes a long sip of her coffee. “I don’t want Rebeca sitting at my table, Cora. Because it’s going to be the most awkward moment of my life and…” Martina trails off and exhales slowly. “And I don’t want to feel what I felt the other day when I saw her either.”
Cora watches her in silence for a few seconds.
“And what did you feel?”
Martina looks down at the photographs.
“That time hadn’t passed. That she was still wearing the same perfume. That she was still looking at me as if she could see right inside me. And that, damn it, I didn’t mind admitting it at all. That’s it.”
Cora doesn’t answer right away. She picks up one of the photographs and places it next to another, though her eyes remain fixed on Martina.
“Well, let’s see, thinking about it a little… madness, madness…” she murmurs. “I don’t know if, after all, I’d call it that.”
Martina opens her mouth, unable to believe what she’s just heard.
“Really?”
“Julia might be partly right,” Cora continues calmly. “It’s clear that you’re bound to run into each other. Sometimes facing things head-on keeps them from becoming bigger ghosts than they really are.”
Martina lets out a small laugh.
“I don’t think it’s a ghost in this case.”
