Chapter 7
When Violeta opens her eyes, she feels a peace she hasn't experienced in a long time. She's in what used to be her bedroom when she still lived with her parents. Thankfully, her mother isn't one of those who has kept everything just as she left it. She has turned the room into a guest room, leaving a large part of the closet just for her, of course, and has put in a large bed where Violeta now sleeps sprawled out without hearing the incessant sound of Madrid's traffic.
She arrived yesterday almost at nightfall after a very peaceful trip. She barely had time for anything; she unpacked her suitcases, took a shower, and while talking a bit with her mother, dinner time arrived.
Violeta looks at the clock when she hears noise in the kitchen. It's eight in the morning, and she frowns because she knows her mother goes to the bakery very early and shouldn't be there at that hour. She dresses quickly, pulls her hair back into a ponytail, and heads straight to the kitchen.
"Mom, what are you doing here? Are you feeling sick?" she asks when she finds her inside.
Maite turns around very decisively after setting a small tray on the table containing freshly baked croissants, muffins, and cookies. Violeta immediately realizes she's perfectly fine.
"Not at all, I escaped to bring you breakfast," she says, happy to have her daughter with her.
"Mom... You didn't have to."
"Of course I did. Besides, this way I get to walk a bit, which is good for me. Come on, now that you're up, sit down, and I'll serve coffee and have breakfast with you."
Mother and daughter sit across from each other, and Violeta takes a cookie with chocolate chips that almost melts in her mouth.
"Oh my God," she says without stopping eating, "I had forgotten how good they were."
Her mother laughs and pushes the tray closer for her to take another, but this time Violeta opts for a croissant that she dips in her coffee with milk.
"What a way to kill the flavor," her mother complains.
Violeta laughs; she knows her mother can't stand it when she does those things.
"When we're done, I'm going with you. You'll be swamped today."
"Well, it's still early now," Maite says, checking the time, "but from nine o'clock on, I won't deny we'll be running around like crazy."
"Then it's decided, and that way you can introduce me to Olga. I'm really looking forward to meeting her."
"I'm also really looking forward to introducing you to her. I'm sure you'll hit it off, although it won't be possible this morning because I gave her the day off. They're bringing her some materials to do some renovations, and if she's not at home, who's going to receive them?"
"Oh," says Violeta, disappointed.
She has been hearing so much and so well about her mother's neighbor for so many days that meeting her had become a priority for her.
"Don't worry, I've told her a lot about you, and she's also eager to meet you, so she's invited us for coffee at her house this afternoon. It will be the first time I've visited since she's been living here next door."
"You've never been to her house?" Violeta is surprised.
"And she's never been to mine either. We've barely had time."
"I thought you got together a lot," her daughter doubts.
"Yes, yes, but we usually go for a walk if the weather is nice or have coffee at a bar in town."
When they get up ready to leave, Violeta notices a small stack of letters piled on the living room furniture.
"They're from your father. They arrive here, and I don't know what to do with them. I don't have an address to send them to, and I don't know, throwing them away doesn't seem right either."
Her mother's voice has faded, and the two of them stand in silence, staring at the pile on the furniture.
"It's not your thing, Mom. It's up to him to worry about it."
"I know, but he's always been very absent-minded about these things. I'm sure he still hasn't changed his address." Maite's eyes remain fixed on the letters as she speaks. Violeta picks them up and puts them in her purse.
"Okay, I'll take care of it. I'll call him and tell him to change his address, or I'll throw them away," she says, heading for the door.
Maite looks at her mournfully. Every time she tries to ask Violeta how she feels about what has happened, her daughter changes the subject or responds with evasive answers. She knows she's affected because, even though Violeta doesn't live with her, it's as if he's abandoned her too, and not finding a way to know how it affects her daughter hurts Maite almost more than her husband's departure.
The two women spend the morning working, and the hours fly by for Violeta without her realizing it. She knows a lot of people and entertains herself by greeting all the ladies who tell her how happy they are to see her there. She moves smoothly behind the counter, and although at times it stresses her out when people crowd around, and the three people she's helping and herself can't keep up, she enjoys it like never before. When it's time to leave, she's even surprised.
"Already? But there's still cleaning and tidying up to do."
"Today Antonio is in charge of closing up. I want to spend time with you."
Her mother drags her out of the bakery under the amused gaze of the manager, who tells her not to worry, that she'll have time to help him on more days. The two of them eat at a home-style restaurant where Maite has a reserved table, and when they finish, they stroll through the town taking a long walk until they end up in front of Olga's house.
Maite opens the outside gate, and the two of them enter the small front patio. Violeta notices that it's quite neglected, and her mother explains that it's one of the things Olga has yet to fix. As soon as Maite rings the doorbell, they hear a voice from inside that sounds distant, inviting them to come in.
"In the kitchen," they hear as soon as they enter the house.
Violeta perceives a pleasant aroma of coffee, which, mixed with the good temperature of the house, immediately makes it a cozy home, but she feels a certain uneasiness. Something has been disturbing her since she heard Olga, and she's unable to define what it is until she enters the kitchen following her mother. When Olga turns around and her eyes lock on her, Violeta feels her mouth go dry as she recognizes the unknown woman she slept with at that hostel in Huesca. The two of them stare at each other, unable to say anything. Olga was about to open a cabinet and has frozen in time. Her head is boiling, and she wonders how it's possible that with all the times Maite has talked to her about her daughter, she hasn't shown her any photos. It wouldn't change things, but at least she wouldn't have been caught off guard.
"What's wrong, Olga? Are you okay?" Maite asks, approaching her neighbor.
Olga gapes a couple of times until she manages to pull herself together and react.
"Yes, sorry, I was just doing some mental calculations."
They give each other two kisses, and Maite turns towards her daughter, pulling her friend by the hand.
"I introduce you to Violeta. This is Olga."
The two stand face to face for a fraction of a second in which, if the tension in the atmosphere could be visualized, Maite would suffer a collapse.
"It's a pleasure," Violeta reacts, planting two kisses on her cheek.
She's flustered and doesn't know if she's doing the right thing, but given Olga's lack of communication, she decides to pretend they don't know each other.
"Likewise," Olga responds. "Your mother has told me a lot about you."
She gives her an intense look that makes it very difficult for Violeta to breathe normally.
"I hope it was good," she says, trying to keep her composure.
Olga smiles in that charming way that seduced Violeta in a split second, causing that attraction she felt towards her to appear and hit her like a treacherous wave that catches you from behind and shakes your whole body until it plunges you under the water. Neither of them is quite sure how they should act, but in a silent conversation where they look at each other for a few seconds, they understand that Violeta has done the right thing and that, at least for now, it's best that Maite doesn't know anything about their encounter that night.
The three of them sit down to have coffee, and it's Maite herself, oblivious to the turmoil of her companions, who initiates the conversation by asking Olga how her morning went with the people bringing the materials. Olga answers as if she were a robot, recounting the details while making an effort to avert her gaze from Violeta, who is so nervous she doesn't know where to put herself.
"Do you have a bathroom?"
"Luckily, yes," Olga replies with a smiling grimace.
"What kind of question is that, daughter?" says Maite, embarrassed.
Violeta gets up without saying anything and follows the instructions Olga has given her. When she gets to the bathroom, she locks herself in and presses her back against the door, trying to normalize her heart rate. Since she has seen Olga, she can hardly think; it's not just about everything she remembers from that night, it's that in the light of day, she finds her even more attractive.
"What a mess," she says, chewing each letter while looking up at the ceiling.