CHAPTER 4
THE WEIGHT OF THE SUITCASES
Lidia
When Sundays roll around, a peace settles into the house that we don’t usually experience during the week.
The silence is accompanied by a calm that dissolves everything else, pushing aside the sounds of the city and forcing you to slow down.
Everything pauses, as if time has decided to move more slowly, compelling you to breathe without haste and pay a little more attention to yourself.
I’ve been sitting on the living room floor for several hours, surrounded by clothes everywhere.
My suitcase is open in front of me, but I still can’t figure out what to pack and what to leave behind.
It’s not like this is my first time traveling to the Maldives, but I also don’t know how long I’ll be staying there.
“This is absurd…” I whisper to myself, as my fingers fiddle with the hem of a T-shirt I’ve already folded more than five times.
Jota lifts his head from his bed, deliberately placed next to the sofa, and looks at me intently, as if he’s genuinely expecting me to keep talking and tell him all my secrets.
This week has been crazy. Ever since I got the call from my dad on Monday, I’ve had to come up with a plan that would let me leave as soon as possible.
My dad told me that everyone at the resort is pitching in, but Miriam wants me there to help her with the preparations, and I can’t argue with that—a wedding is a wedding, no matter how small and intimate it may be.
“And especially miles away from your natural habitat.”
“Come on, it can’t be that hard to pack a suitcase,” I continue, picking up one of the many dresses piled up on my left side. “It’s just clothes, nothing more. Choose what’s most practical. It’s not like you’re going to meet the king.”
Jota tilts his head to one side, and I let out a deep, heavy sigh, setting the dress aside onto a pile that’s already starting to collapse.
“Just like my head.” I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the Maldives, about the memories of that trip.
About the humid heat that made the sand stick to my skin.
About the blinding glare of the sun as it hit the water.
About the constant, rhythmic sound of the sea crashing against the sand. And, above all, about her.
I close my eyes for a second and try to push the memories of Barbara away; her dark, wavy hair in the sunlight, her laughter and the sparkle in her eyes, the way her cheeks would flush.
“No,” I tell myself firmly. “I can’t go back to this.”
After our divorce, I promised myself I’d do exactly what she did: move on with my life and not look back. But what I tell myself is one thing, and what my mind wants to do is another. Or much worse, my heart. Because it has a life of its own.
The first time I saw Barbara was at that resort in the Maldives.
I had just arrived at the resort, I was dying of thirst, and I was trying to order a bottle of water in English, but the waiter didn’t understand me, and the more I gestured, the thinner my patience wore.
She appeared like a breath of fresh air, wearing huge sunglasses and a smile that seemed to light up everything.
“Do you want me to help you?” she asked me then, in a playful, teasing tone that made me smile almost instantly.
That simple question kicked off a conversation and the beginning of a story that changed my life and, at the same time, shattered it. Because now, all those beautiful memories we shared are mixed with others that hurt and remain lodged in my heart.
Arguments between us ended up becoming a daily occurrence in our relationship.
Every time we talked, we ended up fighting.
The silences that settled between us made living together heavy and uncomfortable.
I had the constant feeling that I was competing against something invisible that I could never defeat and that no matter how hard I tried, nothing would change.
I ended up feeling misunderstood, and much worse, inadequate. Because for Barbara, nothing I did ever seemed to make her happy.
“You can’t ask me to drop everything just because you feel like having dinner with me,” she told me once when I called her before her workday was over. “The team needs me, and I have to stay to work out some issues with a player.”
“We haven’t had a moment alone in over a week,” I replied. “I’m not asking you to drop everything, just to… be here. To choose me, even if it’s only for a few hours.”
But it was never that easy. Our love gradually filled with small cracks that seemed insignificant at first, and before we knew it, there was no way to fix them. Every silence, every time she was absent, became another wound; every broken promise, another weight on my heart.
Despite all that, I loved her intensely. I didn’t even want to imagine a life without her, and when it all came to nothing, I realized that I hadn’t just lost her—I’d lost myself, too.
I take a deep breath and look away from the suitcase. There’s no point in reliving all that now. This trip isn’t about Barbara or what we were. It’s about my father, his happiness, a new love story I’ve been a spectator to, and a day I want to be part of.
I look at Jota, who’s still watching, and give him a smile.
“This trip is going to be wonderful,” I assure him, as if the dog needed an official explanation, “and I plan to enjoy it to the fullest.”
Jota barely wags his tail, as if he totally agrees with my words and wants to give me his canine approval.
“Beach, sun, good food… and not a single emotional crisis, I promise.” I point my finger at him to make it clear that I mean business.
Jota yawns with the utmost audacity.
“Thanks for your enthusiasm,” I say ironically, though I can’t help but smile.
I move slightly to grab another pile of clothes when the doorbell rings in the living room. I freeze for a moment, surprised. I’m not expecting anyone. Jota, on the other hand, reacts instantly and dashes toward the entrance, wagging his tail as if he’d just received the best news of the day.
“Calm down, champ,” I say as I walk toward the door. “We don’t know who it is yet.”
I open the door, and instantly a smile spreads across my lips.
“Alex.”
One of my best friends is leaning against the doorframe with that playful expression she always has. Her hair is slicked back, held in place by a pair of oversized glasses that double as a headband.
“I knew I’d find you in trouble,” she says as she walks in without waiting for me to invite her in.
“Trouble?”
“Packing,” she replies, pointing to the mess in the living room. “That always ends up being a problem. Especially when you realize your shoes don’t fit and you have to take everything out again.”
I close the door as Jota moves around her, demanding a little attention.
“Hi, traitor,” she says, crouching down to pet him affectionately. “How are you, roommate? Is your owner giving you those treats I bought you last time?”
The dog lets himself be pampered, closing his eyes in pure pleasure.
“You came here just to say hi to my dog, didn’t you?” I ask, crossing my arms and feigning indignation.
Alex straightens up with a mischievous smile that lights up her whole face.
“Partly, yes. But also because Marta called me this morning and caught me up on things.”
“Ah.” I look at her with resignation, though deep down I’m grateful that someone cares so much about my emotional state.
“It was obvious she would. She can’t keep her mouth shut.”
“She told me about your father’s wedding,” she adds, watching me closely. “That’s pretty significant, Lidia. It’s not just anything.”
“I know,” I admit, resting a hand on the back of the sofa. “It’s all happened so fast. He called me a few days ago and… well, here I am, packing my suitcase to travel to the Maldives.”
“Weren’t you there a few years ago?”
“Yes, well, that was a long time ago,” I simply reply, without going into too much detail. “But anyway, I’ll be there until the second week of June, and hopefully everything will go well.”
“Oh my gosh, I’m so jealous. Sun, beach, cocktails… A vacation like that would be just what I need.”
“I know, I could use one too…”
“Although, come to think of it,” she continues with a half-smile, “someone has to stay here to make sure Jota is still alive while you’re having a blast on that paradise island. You wouldn’t want to end up wanting to stay there and forget what you have here.”
“Don’t worry,” I reply with a smile on my lips. “My life is still here, in Valencia. I don’t plan on moving. Everything I want is right here.”
“Are you sure?”
The question hangs in the air between us.
I know exactly what she means. Alex isn’t just a good friend to me.
Ever since Barbara and I broke up, she hasn’t left my side for a second, and she’s made my days more bearable and less burdensome.
I love her, though I also know she loves me in a different way.
I breathe in slowly and then let all the air out in a soft sigh.
“This trip is special…” I finally say, with more confidence than I actually feel. “After my mother’s death, the fact that my father has found happiness again is something unique. So I want to see him happy, be there for him, and give myself some time to close some chapters and start new ones.”
She smiles as if she’s just heard exactly what she was hoping to hear.
“Good. Because if you’re going to cross half the planet, you’d better come back with more than just sand in your shoes and magnets to stick on the fridge. You deserve to come back with a smile and a desire to move forward.”
Things are never that easy. Just like opening the door to love again isn’t either. I know setting foot in the Maldives will stir up a lot of things inside me, but maybe, between tears and love, I can look myself in the eyes and forgive myself for not having been able to be truly happy.
“If you treat me to dinner, I’ll help you with this whole mess,” Alex says with a smile, lifting Jota into her arms. “What do you say? Do we help her, or let her be consumed by indecision?”
Jota barks, and with him, we burst out laughing.