CHAPTER 18
THE PLACE WHERE IT ALL BEGAN
Lidia
I don’t know at what point I stopped resisting her, this, us.
Maybe it happened the moment I heard that “one minute” laced with fear, as if Barbara was truly afraid I’d reject her and everything would fall apart again, even though there’s been nothing left for a long time.
Or maybe it happened a little earlier, when our eyes met and I realized that, no matter how hard I try or how high I build my walls, I still need to be with her.
If Alex were here, he’d tell me I have to run away from situations like this that hurt me.
And I don’t doubt he’d be right. Because yes, seeing her after everything that happened hurts me.
I could just throw out one of those dry, cutting remarks I’ve become so good at lately, turn on my heel, and disappear among the resort’s paths like I’ve been doing these past two days.
But I’ve missed her, I haven’t stopped thinking about her, and I can’t do it.
“Just a minute.”
Barbara nods and eases the pressure of her fingers on my skin a little, but she doesn’t let go of me completely.
She does a moment later, carefully, as if she feared that the second she let go, I’d run off without looking back.
And she’s right to fear it… though this time I’m not going to run away.
I decide to walk without saying anything else, and she falls into step beside me in silence, matching her pace to mine with that natural ease we’ve always had and never lost, as if our bodies still remember each other despite everything.
The path of fine sand stretches out ahead, parallel to the shore, where the waves are now crashing harder than they were this morning, raising white foam the wind carries toward us in salty gusts.
The sky has completely clouded over, a heavy gray mass that seems charged with electricity.
I feel it on my skin, on the back of my neck, in my chest. Just as I feel everything that has to do with Barbara.
The air smells of salt, dampness, and that perfume of hers I still recognize despite her trying to hide it.
For the first few minutes, we walk without saying a word.
We just walk. Two women who could pass for strangers, sharing a stretch of beach by pure chance.
We try to pretend we don’t know each other at all.
But it’s useless. Her presence surrounds me.
Every step we take seems synchronized by that chemistry neither of us has managed to break.
I stare ahead, focusing on the constant roar of the sea, on the wind beginning to pick up and tangle my hair, on the seagulls gliding beneath the low clouds.
On anything but her. But then she breaks the silence.
“Do you remember the day we met?” she asks gently, catching me off guard.
I blink, surprised by her choice of memory. But the answer rises to my throat without permission, clear and precise.
“I think I’ll remember it for the rest of my life,” I reply before I can bite my tongue.
I turn slightly toward her, just enough to see her eyes—those eyes that have always known how to read me better than anyone else.
“You were trying to convince the waiter that you were dying of thirst and needed water… as if your life depended on it. I remember you waving your hands around, your accent getting stronger the more nervous you became, and the poor guy not knowing whether to laugh or call a doctor.”
A slow, genuine smile spreads across her lips, and against all odds, I smile too. Then I let out a short but sincere laugh, the kind that starts deep in your stomach and that I haven’t felt in months.
“I was this close,” I explain, raising my hand and leaving barely a centimeter between my thumb and index finger, “to throwing the suitcase at your head. Seriously. The trip had been a disaster, the heat was killing me, and then you showed up acting like nothing was wrong, saving my life.”
“I know,” she replies softly. “I could see it in your eyes. You were about to explode.”
“It was exasperating,” I insist, though my voice comes out lighter than I expected.
“It was adorable,” she corrects me, and my legs start to tremble.
“I was a mess,” I reply, brushing it off. “The only adorable thing there was the parrot in the cage behind the waiter.”
“Be that as it may… I thought you were adorable,” she says, giving me a look that stirs a warm whirlwind in the center of my chest. “You had that chaotic beauty of a storm about to break… and I loved it from the very first second. I stood there watching you argue and thought, ‘This woman is going to change my life.’ And wow, did you ever.”
I look away, uncomfortable because her words pierce me exactly where it hurts and where something is still alive. I try to brush it off, but I feel a part of me soften a little. Just a little. My heart is beating faster than usual.
“And you stood there like nothing could shake you. Like the whole world could fall apart and you’d still have that calm smile on your face.”
“I used to pretend a lot better than I do now,” she admits with a half-smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
That makes me look at her again. There’s something different in her tone, a crack that doesn’t fit the memory we’re weaving together. But I don’t push it. We keep walking. The wind blows harder now, kicking up little swirls of sand that brush against our legs and force us to squint.
“It was only two weeks…” she murmurs after a while.
“And yet I feel like I lived more during those days than in many years put together. I remember every detail: the nights in the hotel gardens, the conversations that lasted until dawn, the way you laughed when I tried to explain how the most common knee injuries happen…”
I nod slowly, because I felt exactly the same way.
“It all happened too fast,” I admit. “It was too intense. Like time sped up just for us.”
“Too real,” she adds without hesitation.
Her answer comes immediately, directly, the way it always has when she talks about us.
“Yes…” I sigh. “I remember waking up every morning thinking it was all a dream and that at any moment I’d open my eyes and go back to my old life. But no. You were there beside me, with that same sleepy expression, asking how I’d slept, and suddenly everything became real.”
A brief silence settles between us, filled with images flooding my mind.
Images of those nights when we barely slept because touching each other felt more necessary than breathing, of those moments when I traced the curve of her back with my mouth, of the laughter that escaped her when I tickled her waist, of the heat of her lips against my neck, the scent of her skin after an intense round of sex. I swallow hard.
“When the last day came…” I begin, not entirely sure why I’m opening that door. “I knew it instantly.”
She turns toward me, attentive, her eyes wide open.
“What?”
I look her straight in the eyes.
“That I wanted you to be part of my life. Forever. That I couldn’t imagine a future without you close to me.”
The wind carries the words away, but I know she’s heard them. I can see it in the way her eyes well up, in the way she presses her lips together for a second.
“Me too,” she replies softly. “There wasn’t a single moment of doubt. From the very first day, I knew it was you.”
And there it is again. That “us” that existed so powerfully and that, in some clumsy, wounded way, still exists.
“I never meant to hurt you,” she adds suddenly, stopping dead in the middle of the path.
I stop too. The sand sinks slightly beneath my feet.
“Our thing…” she continues, her voice trembling. “Our marriage was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had in my life. The trips, the laughter, the lazy mornings… everything.”
The words hit me hard, but not in the way she imagines. I shake my head gently.
“No,” I say.
She frowns, confused.
“Lidia…”
“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.