Under One Sky

Chapter 48

48

MARCH 2018, DAY 1,725

Hola.

Hei.

Where are you?

Does it matter?

I like to picture where you are if I can’t see you.

Cecilie hovered a thumb over her phone, and the green gem in her silver ring shone. But she didn’t reply.

Can we FaceTime then?

No, it won’t help.

Won’t help what?

You know, Hector.

There was a pause. Hector didn’t respond.

I just wanted to say goodbye.

Good luck with the wedding, I hope it all works out for you, I really do.

Cecilie did want Hector to be happy, but it made her feel sick that it couldn’t be with her.

That’s it?

Yes, that’s it. It’s not fair on your… on Pilar. It’s secretive and sly. It’s not fair on her. And it’s not fair on me.

Hector felt wretched to the core.

I didn’t mean to hurt you.

I know you didn’t. What I meant was, I’m not being fair on me, living each waking moment around you; or allowing you into my dreams at night; or thinking about what time it is somewhere I’ll never go; or wondering whether I’m going to talk to you today; or judging my mood based on how well our last conversation went; or my unwillingness to meet anyone in ‘real’ life while you move forward with yours. It’s not fair. I need to be more present. I need to stop being blind to what’s in front of me. My life here. My family. The children here in the library…

She’s at work.

Hector didn’t say anything. He couldn’t believe that this was the last time they were going to talk. He didn’t want to say anything heartfelt or final, because he didn’t want this conversation to be more significant than any other. So Cecilie carried on.

And you’re getting married. Give your marriage a chance. Embrace it! My mother always says I should get out of my dreamland and embrace reality, so I’m going to embrace what’s in front of me – and you should too. And I think the best way for us to give our lives the best shot is if we make this our last conversation.

Hector broke.

I don’t want that.

Parents and their toddlers started to gather in the basement of the library, untangling themselves from coats, scarves and papooses. On the top floor, ensconced between two rows of white bookshelves, a tear rolled down Cecilie’s cheek as she looked at her phone and typed furiously in silence. She didn’t want that either.

Well I’m afraid you don’t have the choice now.

But we’re friends.

You might think that, Hector, but my heart breaks every time I think of her stroking your face; that I can’t…

But you told me you can, how your daydreams take you to me, that you can see me and touch me. Well I can too now. You taught me how.

Cecilie’s shaky hands struggled to type as she wavered, but she carried on, knowing this was for the best. That she had to be brave and steel herself once more.

You’re getting married, Hector. You say we’re friends but this isn’t how friends talk. We must stop talking. It’ll free us both. I’m sure you want me to be free.

As Hector lay in the dark, his schoolteacher fiancée snoring next to him, her wedding dress hanging on the wardrobe door like a ghost watching over them, he pictured Cecilie’s eyes and wondered what shade of green they were at that moment; what the light was like under Candela’s curved roof.

Please, mi amor…

Farvel, Hector.

Te quiero, Cecilie.

And with that, Cecilie swiped right to switch the power off her phone, shut down the conversation, and ran down three flights of stairs to the library basement, ready to rouse the little ones with So, ro, lillemann …

‘ No mames …’ Hector cursed quietly, looking at his screen in the darkened room. Pilar rolled over in her sleep. The dress on the wardrobe fluttered eerily in the breeze of an open window.