Page 67 of We Shouldn’t Do This Again

I swipe my finger across the screen and answer in the most neutral voice I can muster.

“Yes?”

“God! You finally picked up the phone and deigned to answer me. I’ve been trying to reach you all day—can you tell me what the hell is wrong with you?”

I close my eyes for a second and take a deep breath. I’m exhausted, so exhausted it almost hurts my soul. I think of Lidia, and guilt rises in my throat like bile. How did I end up here? How could I have deceived them like this?

“If I haven’t answered, it’s because I’m busy,” I reply, with a harshness I don’t even try to hide. “Let me remind you that I didn’t come to the Maldives to have a good time, Ingrid. Pablo’s wedding, the whole mess of organizing it… This isn’t some fucking pleasure cruise on the Mediterranean.”

The silence on the other end lasts barely a second, but it feels like an eternity to me. When she speaks again, her tone has changed, and I know this is going to blow up. Ingrid has always had a strong temper. It’s not the first time we’ve argued. But I know this isn’t going to be a normal argument.

“Excuse me? Busy? Is that what you have to say to me after ignoring me all day? I’m your girlfriend, Barbara,” she continues, her voice trembling with rage. “I think I at least deserve for you to pay a little attention to what’s going on with me, not to disappear as if I didn’t exist and our relationship wasn’t worth a damn.”

I clench my jaw so hard it hurts, and I feel the tension rising up my neck to the back of my head, hot and suffocating. My mind is racing. I don’t know how to explain to Ingrid that ever since I set foot on the island and ran into Lidia, nothing has been the same. I don’t know how to tell her that I’m in love with someone else, that every time Lidia touches me, time stands still and everything else disappears.

“I haven’t disappeared,” I reply, trying to sound firm, even though I’m trembling inside. “I just have responsibilities. I can’t be glued to my phone all day.”

“More important than replying to a text?” she attacks, raising her voice. “More important than returning a simple call? More important than me, Barbara? Because that’s what it looks like, you know? Like I don’t matter in your life anymore and whatever it is you have there has you completely wrapped up.”

I bite my tongue because the answer is “yes.” That Lidia is more important. That everything I have with her, this connection we’ve rekindled… It all weighs more than her, than what I left behind in London and in that life that took me two years to build.

“You’re acting really strange,” she adds, lowering her voice slightly but without hiding her pain. “And it’s not the first time I’ve noticed it. Ever since we talked that first night after you arrived, every conversation has been colder than the last. Is something wrong between us? Is everything okay over there? Is Lidia the reason you’re acting this way?”

I close my eyes and rub my forehead, thinking of Lidia, of all the nights we’ve spent together, of that overwhelming passion that’s ingrained in my skin and that only awakens with her. Yes, I’m acting really strange, and I am because I’m in love. And the worst part of this isn’t that—it’s that maybe I never loved Ingrid the way she expected. That I simply used her to numb the pain I was feeling.

“Don’t start, Ingrid,” I murmur, trying to change the subject. “We’ve already talked about that, and I think I made things pretty clear to you.”

“No, Barbara, no,” she insists, raising her voice again. “I’m not going to pretend nothing’s going on here, because there is. And a lot. You’re avoiding me, you’re treating me like a stranger, and I’m here, at home, thinking about you all the time. Do you know what that’s like? Do you know how much it hurts? I encouraged you to go because I knew it was important, but not so you’d distance yourself from me like this.”

My patience is completely shattered. I feel the anger rising from my stomach, mixing with guilt and that panic that won’t let me breathe.

“You know what the problem is?” I reply harshly. “It’s that I’m tired of having to explain myself to you for everything I do, everything I feel, or everything I… It’s always been like this, ever since I came to London and joined the team. Always questioning everything, turning a small problem into an argument. Only when I do what you want me to do are you damn happy.”

“Is needing to talk to you a problem?” she repeats, incredulous, her voice breaking. “Tell me the truth, Barbara, is there someone else? Because this isn’t normal. You’re not like this.”

“I’ve always been like this. I’ve just spent too much time hiding behind layers and layers of lies,” I blurt out without thinking, and as soon as the words leave my mouth, I know I’ve crossed the line.

The silence that follows is heavy, dangerous, like the kind that precedes a real storm. Inside, my mind won’t stop: Someone else? Yes, Ingrid, there is someone else. It’s Lidia, my ex-wife, and she makes me feel things I’ve never managed to feel with you. But I don’t say it; I keep it to myself and bite my tongue so as not to do something so stupid.

“I don’t recognize you,” she says, more quietly, almost whispering. “You’ve never been like this with me. The Barbara I know wouldn’t treat me as if she didn’t give a damn. What happened to you on that island? What did they do to you?”

Guilt pierces my chest. I can’t let everything I’m holding inside come out because if I do, the wedding, Pablo, Miriam, and above all Lidia, will disappear. And I’m not ready to lose everything I’ve regained these past few days all over again.

“I’m tired, Ingrid,” I repeat, as if that explains everything, even though I know it’s not true.

“No,” she replies softly but firmly, almost pleading. “You’re not tired. You’re distant. Cold. As if you don’t even want to talk to me anymore. Tell me the truth, please.”

I don’t answer because I don’t know what to say. Because I don’t know how to explain to her that she’s right, that something has changed, that it’s not the same anymore, that every day it gets harder for me to pretend I’m still the same Barbara she fell in love with. I think of Lidia again, of the hurt I caused her once and how much I want to assure her that things will be different this time.

“Well,” Ingrid continues after a few seconds, trying to sound calmer. “We’ll sort all this out as soon as I get there.”

I frown, confused, and my heart skips a beat.

“When you get where, Ingrid?”

“If you’d read the messages I sent you, you’d know I booked tickets to the Maldives. I’m leaving tonight, so I’ll be there in a few days. I thought it would be nice to be together for Pablo’s wedding and take the opportunity to spend a few days there.”

The world literally stops. I feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears, the ground beneath my feet losing its firmness, and everything beginning to sway. It can’t be… Guilt chokes me, but so does fear.