Epilogue
I hear Carlos before I see him. I could pick the sound of that stroller rattling out of ten thousand…
although the singing that usually comes along with it helps.
Today they’re singing “All You Need Is Love,” if you can believe it.
They barely know how to say “mama” yet, but they’re already singing in English.
“Look! Mama!”
“My little bacon bits!”
They both turn around happily in their double stroller. The little jerks—aren’t multiples supposed to be smaller babies? These two are going to eat us out of house and home.
I kiss Lucas on the cheek and Emma on the forehead. Carlos, on the mouth.
“She’s hasn’t come out yet?” he asks.
“No. You got here early.”
“I didn’t have to drug them to finish getting them dressed today.”
“Shut up, you animal. Someone’s gonna hear you and think we drug our children.”
Carlos puts his arm around my shoulder and kisses me on the temple, telling me I have to relax and not take life so seriously.
“Hey!” Blanca rushes out, as always, trotting along, her jacket half on, her bag dangling and looking stressed. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. It went a little over.”
“No worries. We just got here. Actually”—Carlos checks his watch—“you’re early, I think.”
We came to pick up Blanca at the women’s association she volunteers at on Friday afternoons, providing pro bono legal advice.
And we came all this way because it’s next to a tapas bar with a Michelin star we all love.
Loren and Damian should already be there, but we’re coming from different directions: I from the gallery, Carlos from the subway.
Blanca is kneeling, giving the kids kisses and speaking to them one at a time. Way too fast as always; she’s gonna blow a fuse one of these days.
“I had to rush today. The women have a literary talk now. Someone’s coming to read them an excerpt from something that… Look, girl, I wasn’t actually listening. The point is they had to get the room ready and…”
I don’t know how she notices him. We didn’t make a single peep, although both Carlos and I saw him coming.
He saw us too. He looks different. His beard is trimmed, his hair’s combed, and he’s dressed differently, more formal.
Blanca had her back to him, talking, distracted…
How did she notice, for fuck’s sake? There’s something, let’s be honest, there’s something ineffable about love, something invisible, like a fishing wire that tugs on the intangible part of our breath and cuts it off when it’s close. That must be it.
She doesn’t say anything, just trails off with the sentence half-finished and stands up. She turns around gingerly. He’s almost next to her, and we… We don’t exist anymore.
“This is impossible,” he whispers with a timid smile. “Impossible.”
Blanca doesn’t answer. She swallows. She smiles shyly, and I know what she must be saying to herself. Gus and she have been avoiding each other with no problem for three years. Three. Why now?
“What’s up?”
“Not much. What’s up with you?”
“Oh, God…” Carlos looks down at his boots awkwardly. It’s the stupidest, most tense conversation in the world. I wish we could just run off, pushing the stroller in the opposite direction.
“You’re not helping,” I scold him.
“What’s up, Gus?” he says, sticking his hand out to Gus. “Congrats on the prize.”
“Thanks, Marín. You too, on the kids.” He bends down a little, toward the stroller. “They’re amazing. What are they now, twenty months? What are their names?”
“Eighteen months yesterday,” I say, surprised—he has a good eye. “They’re called Bacon and Bacon Bit.”
“Don’t fuck around, Coco.”
“Maria…” Carlos elbows me. “They’re called Emma and Lucas.”
“Jeez Louise, Marín…they have your ears,” he says with a smile.
“See? Divine punishment,” I murmur, but Carlos ignores me.
“You… Do you have kids?”
Blanca is about to faint, I think.
“Me. No, no. Not yet. Well, I mean…” He side-eyes Blanqui. “I don’t even have a girlfriend, so… But I love them. So…what are you all doing here?”
“Blanca”—I point at her, and she raises her hand, as if to say “present”—“volunteers with an association, and we came here to pick her up and grab a bite to eat.”
“Here? What a coincidence! I’m here to read a few poems.”
It’s been almost four years since we last talked to Gus, and every day has built a wall, but I don’t know how long it will stay standing because I’m realizing a lot of things never change, and I know.
I still recognize Gus’s lying voice perfectly.
And it’s a lie. This is no coincidence. He engineered this meeting.
“Listen, folks, I have to get in there. But I’d love…I dunno, to catch up sometime.”
All three of us look at each other. Blanca takes a deep breath and recovers her ability to speak.
“We’re meeting up with Loren at La Orilla. It’s right next door, and we’ll probably still be there when you finish. Why don’t you drop by?”
“Oh, well…yeah? Is that okay with all of you?” He looks around at all of us, even though I know the only opinion he cares about is Blanca’s. “Well, great. See you after.”
“Great. See you soon.”
“Wait ’til you see how happy this makes Loren,” I joke through gritted teeth.
We wave goodbye dopily and keep walking down the sidewalk. The kids are still singing “All You Need Is Love” when we finally hear the reaction slip out of Blanca’s lips.
“Shit.”
Shit. Nothing else is needed. Love, darling, is much more complicated than it seems, and sometimes, time only proves it right.