The boy smiled and pointed at me with his finger. I was about to take a step toward him but he ran off, disappearing into Paseo del Borne.
When I got back to my front door I found an envelope stuck in it. The red wax seal with the angel was still warm. I looked up and down the street but couldn’t see anybody. I went in and closed the main door behind me with a double lock. Then I paused at the foot of the staircase and opened the envelope.
Dear friend,
I deeply regret that you were unable to come to our meeting last night. I trust you are well and there has been no emergency or setback. I am sorry I couldn’t enjoy the pleasure of your company, but I hope that whatever it was that did not allow you to join me is quickly and favorably resolved and that next time it will be easier for us to meet. I must leave the city for a few days, but as soon as I return I’ll send word. Hoping to hear from you and to learn about your progress in our joint project, please accept, as always, my friendship and affection,
ANDREAS CORELLI
I crushed the letter in my fist and put it in my pocket, then went quietly into the apartment and closed the door. I peeked into the bedroom and saw that Cristina was still asleep. Then I went to the kitchen and began to prepare coffee and a light lunch. A few minutes later I heard Cristina’s footsteps behind me. She was looking at me from the doorway, clad in an old sweater of mine that went halfway down her thighs. Her hair was a mess and her eyes were still swollen. Her lips and cheeks had dark bruises, as if I’d hit her hard. She avoided my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
She shook her head, but I ignored the gesture and motioned for her to sit at the table. I poured her a cup of coffee with milk and sugar and gave her a slice of freshly baked bread with some cheese and a little ham. She made no move to touch her plate.
“Just a bite,” I suggested.
She nibbled the cheese and smiled.
“It’s good,” she said.
We ate in silence. To my surprise, Cristina finished off half the food on her plate. Then she hid behind the cup of coffee and gave me a fleeting look.
“If you want, I’ll leave today,” she said at last. “Don’t worry. Pedro gave me money and—”
“I don’t want you to go anywhere. I don’t want you to go away ever again. Do you hear me?”
“I’m not good company, David.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Did you mean it? What you said about going far away?”
I nodded.
“My father used to say that life doesn’t give second chances.”
“Only to those who never had a first chance. Actually, they’re secondhand chances that someone else hasn’t made use of, but that’s better than nothing.”
She smiled faintly.
“Take me for a walk,” she suddenly said.
“Where do you want to go?”
“I want to say good-bye to Barcelona.”
40
Halfway through the afternoon the sun appeared from behind the blanket of clouds left by the storm. The shining streets were transformed into mirrors, on which pedestrians walked, reflecting the amber of the sky. I remember that we went to the foot of the Ramblas where the statue of Columbus peered out through the mist. We walked in silence, gazing at the buildings and the crowds as if they were a mirage, as if the city were already deserted and forgotten. Barcelona had never seemed so beautiful and so sad to me as it did that afternoon. When it began to grow dark we walked to the Sempere & Sons bookshop and stood in a doorway on the opposite side of the street, where nobody could see us. The shop window of the old bookshop cast a faint light over the damp, gleaming cobblestones. Inside we could see Isabella standing on a ladder, sorting out the books on the top shelf, as Sempere’s son pretended to be going through an accounts book, looking furtively at her ankles all the while. Sitting in a corner, old and tired, Señor Sempere watched them both with a sad smile.
“This is the place where I’ve found almost all the good things in my life,” I said without thinking. “I don’t want to say good-bye.”
…
When we returned to the tower house it was already dark. As we walked in we were greeted by the warmth of the fire that I had left burning when we went out. Cristina went ahead down the corridor and, without saying a word, began to get undressed, leaving a trail of clothes on the floor. I found her lying on the bed, waiting. I lay down beside her and let her guide my hands. As I caressed her I could feel her muscles tensing. There was no tenderness in her eyes, just a longing for warmth, and an urgency. I abandoned myself to her body, charging at her with anger, feeling her nails dig into my skin. I heard her moan with pain and with life, as if she lacked air. At last we collapsed, exhausted and covered in sweat. Cristina leaned her head on my shoulder and looked into my eyes.