27
Beatriz looked at her daughter, whose face had become paler than that of the specters that had been following her. It was fortunate that she’d been around to save Vesna. Not all the wandering dead were as civilized as Beatriz.
“What the hell was that?” said Vesna, leaning her back against the gray stone fa?ade. “The voices were following me!”
“Ghosts... thirty thousand souls evicted from their graves when the Yugoslavs built this city a little over a century ago and mercilessly razed their tombstones. As you can imagine, the deceased didn”t take it too well, and now they enjoy haunting sensitives, like you, for example, in protest.”
“Why would anyone do that?” Vesna replied, horrified. “Building a city on top of a graveyard, I mean.”
“Apparently, the cemetery was built in the worst place possible. It lay over a swamp, and water flooded the graves. Then, the festering corpse water seeped into the subsoil, and it contaminated the drinking water of the former Gorica. So they decided to use the land for houses instead.”
“Whatever, I don’t want to know. It”s gross.”
“It was you who asked. Also, you were the one who decided to eat pizza by the main entrance to the old cemetery.”
“What a nice foundation for a house,” Vesna said with a tut, and Beatriz noticed that the color had begun to return to her cheeks.
“Not much better than the foundations of ours,” Beatriz muttered, feeling the weight of her memories again. “That”s exactly why I’m here. I need to tell you what happened after you were born.”
“Dad died.”
“Yes, well, a little before that.”
“I”m all ears. Just wait until I text Max. I”ll tell him to come.”
“Good idea,” said Beatriz. “He’s probably annoyed after you ran away like that. If I were you, I”d try to appease him and get out of this town as soon as possible. You”re still going to need the Austrian. Anyway, where were we?”
“1989. The year I was born.”
“Yes, that”s right. By then, La Hiedra was growing much bigger.”
“La Hiedra? Like the Spanish word for ivy?”
“Yes, your father”s company. Didn”t you know it was called that? Just like your last name. Br?ljan means ivy.”
Vesna finished typing her message and put the phone away. Beatriz cleared her throat, though she no longer needed to, and began her story.
“In 1992, your father got a contract to work on the Seville Expo[11]. The company expanded so much that it started to get out of hand. Martin employed more than a hundred people, and he was forced to delegate. But he was still unable to trust anyone and carried out most of the tasks. Before then, he was always late getting home, but he always came home. After he got the contract, he spent most of his time in Seville while Andreu covered for him in the Valencia office. And, unfortunately for Martin, he replaced him not only in the office, but also in other... facets of his life.”
“I don”t know which disgusts me more, the story of the putrid bodies dissolving in the running water or knowing that you were cheating on Dad with his best friend for years. Why couldn”t you just tell him? Why couldn”t you separate yourself from him, like decent people do?”
“It”s easy to say that when you look at things from a distance,” Beatriz replied. “But everything happened little by little. One thing led to another, and without realizing it, I ended up trapped in a double life that today I wouldn”t wish even on my worst enemy.”
“Since the Expo, your father started spending a lot of time in the south of Spain and even rented a second office and an apartment in Seville.
“February 12th, 1993, fell on a Friday. Your father phoned me that morning, saying that he was in Seville and had so much work that he would probably not return to Valencia until Monday.
“Don”t worry, Martin,” I reassured him, “I”ll take Vesna to the nursery and stop by the supermarket. Then I”ve asked my mother to pick her up so I can go for a walk downtown with Indira”s mother.”
“I never had a problem lying. No doubt, it”s something you inherited from me. On the other hand, you inherited the gift of intuition from your father. I used to get so nervous every time I told him lies because he could smell them from a mile away. Eventually, I realized that he had always known but had purposely stayed out of it, waiting for my infatuation with Andreu to pass… waiting for me to love him again.
“After dropping you off at school, I didn”t go to the supermarket but took the bus to the offices of La Hiedra. There, I found Andreu playing solitaire on Martin”s computer while the world whirled around him. I always admired his ability to escape from work, even on the busiest day. If your father was incapable of delegating, Andreu mastered the art of passing the buck, albeit always with a joke and a smile that disarmed even the most suspicious victim. People willingly shouldered Andreu”s responsibilities. It made them feel valuable and honored to be able to help him.
“Is this a bad time?” I asked, knowing that for him, bad times literally did not exist.
“You have arrived at the most perfect possible time!” he exclaimed, luring me with his fingers as if he were a snake charmer. “I was just about to go out to lunch. Will you join me?” he said and added in a husky voice, “I have an awesome Rioja wine at home. I”ll take the rest of the day off. There”s nothing urgent to do at the office.”
I nodded, trying not to think about who would pay him for all the hours we would spend between the sheets. We got into his company van, and he drove to his house in the Ruzafa neighborhood. Andreu lived alone in a ramshackle apartment, and despite being in his forties, he always returned to his parents” village on weekends to help in the family garden. This caused him deep frustration and further accentuated the envy he felt for Martin and his rich life.
“Andreu parked the van in front of the courtyard, and we went up to his place. We spent two or three hours there, finishing our Rioja and watching TV while we pirouetted on the bed, oblivious to what was going on outside the apartment.
“But I didn”t know that your father, Martin, had returned from Seville early that morning and had called me from a public booth at the North Station in Valencia. He wanted to surprise me that weekend because it was Valentine”s Day. Knowing that grandma would pick you up from daycare, he booked two ferry tickets and a luxury hotel to spend a few days in Ibiza. It was the perfect plan to rekindle the dying relationship with his wife.
“Before going home, Martin went to the office because he needed to give instructions to Andreu before going on vacation. Not finding him there and knowing his partner”s habit of feigning illness to stay in bed, Martin went to look for him at his house. Fortuitously or perhaps not, he arrived just in time to see the two of us entering together through the patio door. He probably waited inside the vehicle until we came out and followed us when Andreu took me home. After such a splendid day of wine and frolicking, Andreu told me he was heading to a luxurious villa they were finishing in L”Eliana, a town not far from Valencia. He told me that he had to check the newly planted hedges, but I knew that his real goal was to enjoy the heated swimming pool. The owners, a couple from Madrid, weren’t due to visit their home for months. In the meantime, Martin came home to find me in the bathtub, covered in soapsuds up to my eyebrows and holding a Marie Claire magazine with soggy tips. Trust me when I say that as I heard the key turn in the lock, I thought I was about to die of a heart attack.”