Maite’s bruises changed color. The one on her face, near her eye, was green and could now be covered with a sensible amount of makeup and wouldn’t stand out. She spent endless minutes in front of the mirror, applying mascara and doing her hair. Then, in a fit of inspiration, she decided to buy Rubén flowers.
She realized it was unusual for a woman to get a man flowers, but his room was small and drab. She wanted to cheer him up, and since he still needed to spend a few more days in that sterile, cold hospital, she figured flowers couldn’t hurt.
She picked a nice bouquet with daisies and a couple of yellow roses, which the flower seller tied with a ribbon for her, then rode the bus to the hospital. In the hallway outside his room she bumped into Leonora.
The women stared at each other.
“You’re here. I…how are you here?” Maite asked. She couldn’t think of anything else to say. She had not expected to ever see Leonora again. She was like a character from a story who has been written out, erased from the page.
This did not make sense. Yet, in certain melodramas, even the dead manage to rise from the tomb, cheating the afterlife.
“I saw the story about my uncle in the paper,” Leonora said. True enough, she was dressed in respectful, mournful black.
Maite was stunned. Her mouth felt dry. “But how did you know Rubén was in the hospital?”
“I called Jackie and she told me. Rubén looks ghastly.” Leonora grimaced. “Why are you visiting him?”
“Rubén didn’t tell you?”
“He said you were both looking for me.”
Maite supposed it wouldn’t have been in good taste to simply blurt out the whole story. Still, it irritated her that Rubén hadn’t even hinted that they were involved. “Yes, we looked for you. Where were you? You vanished. I waited for you with the cat.”
The young woman crossed her arms, rubbing them and looking at the ground.
“I was going to pick up my things and the cat, but when I was headed to the print shop I noticed someone was following me. I don’t know if it was my uncle’s men or someone else, but I panicked. I managed to lose them and I left the city. I tried calling back when I thought it was safe to do it, but you hung up on me.”
“Rubén hung up on you.”
“Well, it scared me even more. Then I read the paper and I decided to come back to the city. I went to see my sister, and she said our uncle was dead and Emilio had phoned and was looking for me. He told me the photos were destroyed.”
“Your uncle did that. It was all this fuss for nothing.”
“Yes,” the girl said, looking sheepish. “At least Rubén will be okay.”
“Look, I’m sorry, but I was dropping these off for Rubén, I need to put them in water,” Maite said, clutching her bouquet.
“Oh. Sure.”
Maite walked past Leonora and went into the room. She was annoyed to hear Leonora following her inside, but she put on a smile as she approached Rubén’s bed and showed him the flowers. He had a newspaper in his hands and tucked it away when she walked in. It was the evening edition. She wondered if Leonora had brought it in.
“Hello there, I hope you’re feeling better.”
“Maite. What, you bought flowers?”
“I thought they’d brighten the room, except now I’m realizing there’s no vase to put them in. Do you think a nurse might have one?” she wondered, and she set the flowers on the night table. “Leonora, maybe you could find a vase?”
Once the girl stepped out, Maite touched Rubén’s hand and smiled. “Feeling any better?”
“I’m getting discharged in two days,” he said, sliding his free hand across his chest.
“So soon! But I suppose that’s good. I was thinking…and it was thinking, but it’s a good idea…at least I’m certain it’s a good idea…Anyway, I was thinking you could stay with me. You’re going to need someone to take care of you for a little while. Your guesthouse won’t do.”
He looked embarrassed. She’d never seen him embarrassed. He’d paraded through her apartment without a stitch of clothing and didn’t seem to mind. Now he was blushing.
“That’s nice of you, but I’ll be leaving the city as soon as I can—”
“I thought you liked me,” she said quickly.
“I do. But it’s not like we have anything in common. You know how it is.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t.”
“Come on, Maite, you didn’t really think…and Leonora and I…well…”
He trailed off and looked at her, as if the smile on his lips could do all the talking for him. They had reconciled, then. She supposed it was simple enough for people so young to blow hot and cold from one instant to the next. Maybe Rubén had portrayed himself as the wounded hero and that had reeled Leonora in. Or maybe he had been on her mind all along.
Maite felt her face growing warm with shame. He didn’t say anything else, instead looking down at the newspaper on his lap.
She realized, with his silence, how inadequate and meager she was, and how utterly she had misinterpreted his every gesture. Yet she almost felt like laughing. There was something furiously funny about the situation.
Maite turned around and saw Leonora standing by the doorway. She realized that the person who had been written out of the story was her, not Leonora.
“Don’t forget your damn cat this time,” Maite told her as she walked out.
Epilogue
MAITE’S FEET WERE sopping wet. She’d waited for the bus forever, but when it came at least it was half-empty, and she took a seat with a sigh and placed her bag with groceries on her lap. She glanced out the window, at the city lights and the water droplets sliding down the glass and thought of nothing, her mind as numb as her chilled fingers.
It was Sunday. Sunday she went to the movies. But not that Sunday. She’d gone shopping instead and bought chicken and a few vegetables. At the supermarket, not the tianguis, because she’d missed the damn tianguis again. She was planning on making consommé. It was simple enough, and it should last her for a few days.
Someone sat next to her. She slid a hand against the glass, traced a circle with her fingertips.
“I’m wondering if you’d go for coffee with me.”
She took a while to raise her head and look at the man speaking, because she didn’t think he was talking to her. But then she glanced at him and realized he was. And she knew him. It was the man from Emilio’s house, the one who had killed the colonel.