Page 37 of We Shouldn’t Do This Again

“No,” I repeat, firmer this time. “The most beautiful thing in your life is your work, Barbara.”

Silence falls between us like a slab of stone.

“When you talked about soccer…” I continue, the words slipping out unfiltered. “When you talk about your work, your whole face lights up. Your eyes shine in a way I could never make them shine. You transform. You speak with passion, with fire. I was always the second choice, the one waiting for you to finish the season.”

I hold her gaze. This time I don’t look away.

“I was never the one who lit that fire in you.”

Her expression hardens at first, but then softens around the edges. She takes a step toward me, closing the distance between us.

“That’s not true,” she says in a hoarse voice. “You made me happy in a way work never could.”

“It will.”

“No.”

“Work doesn’t give you complete happiness,” she insists with an intensity that surprises me. “You can have it all: success, recognition, stability… and suddenly, in the blink of an eye, realize you’re missing the essential thing. You’re missing someone who looks at you the way you looked at me. You’re missing someone who knows when you need silence and when you need a hug without having to ask.”

I blink, bewildered.

“And what’s the essential thing for you right now?” I ask, almost in a whisper. “What is it you’re really missing?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Her eyes drift for a moment toward the gray horizon, as if searching for the exact words. Then she looks back at me.

“I miss you, Lidia. I miss what we were. I miss the way we completed each other.”

But before I can answer, the sky decides to speak for her.

A clap of thunder erupts right above us, so loud it makes us jump. And without warning, the rain comes crashing down. Not a light drizzle, but a sudden, furious downpour that soaks us to the bone within seconds. The water falls hard, cold and heavy, forcing us to huddle together.

“How convenient!” I exclaim, bringing my hands to my head as my hair sticks to my face and neck. “Just what we needed. As if this conversation wasn’t intense enough already.”

Barbara lets out a brief laugh and shakes her head. Water runs down her cheeks and mixes with what might be tears.

“I think we should run before the water sweeps us away.”

“You think?” I shoot back sarcastically, already breaking into a run.

We run toward the resort, slipping on the wet sand that’s suddenly become treacherous. The rain is falling so hard we can barely see a few feet ahead. I laugh as I run, my heart pounding in my throat.

“This is ridiculous!” I shout between laughter and protests. “We’re going to catch a cold!”

And in the middle of that absurd chaos, something shifts inside me. I laugh. Really laugh. Freely. Soaked to the bone, with my hair plastered to my face, my makeup ruined, and my pulse racing for something that goes far beyond the run itself. We run together, dodging low branches, laughing. For a moment, everything feels easy again.

We reach the porch of one of the bungalows and take shelter beneath the wooden roof. I lean against one of the columns, gasping as I try to catch my breath. My chest rises and falls rapidly. Barbara stands in front of me, dripping wet, just as disheveled, just as… alive. Water trails down her neck and shoulders, and her T-shirt clings to her body in a way that forces me to look away.

The rain continues pouring down around us, forming a thick curtain that isolates us from the rest of the world. For a few seconds, everything stops. We look at each other without speaking, without excuses, without the past getting in the way. Just the two of us breathing the same damp, salty air. But I know it isn’t real. The past is still there, throbbing. The questions remain unanswered. The conversation we started is far from over.

And yet, there’s something in her gaze that compels me to stay still. One second turns into two, then three… and I don’t know how to stop it. I wonder what would happen if I took one more step toward her and kissed her. I wonder if this time would be different. I wonder if, after everything, there’s still something left to save.

CHAPTER 19

THE DANGER OF HAVING HER CLOSE

Lidia

The rain keeps falling as if the sky wanted to drown us both, but here, under the wooden roof of the bungalow, the world has shrunk to just the two of us.