—I need to understand why you thought it was reasonable to bring Claudia here.
—Don’t mix things up.
—You have seated them at the same table.
His expression tightened.
—Claudia is part of my life.
—Since how long?
Sigh.
—Eight months.
I didn’t expect the number to hurt so much.
I didn’t move, but I noticed my fingers getting cold.
Eight months.
I remembered our anniversary in March.
Javier had arrived late.
He gave me a handkerchief he had bought at the airport.
He said that negotiations with some investors had been endless.
Claudia already existed.
I remembered a weekend in Valencia that he cancelled because he had an urgent presentation.
Claudia already existed.
I remembered asking her one night if something was happening to us.
He put his phone down on the nightstand in annoyance.
“Don’t turn a work season into a marital problem.”
Claudia already existed.
—Eight months—I repeated.
-Yeah.
—And you’ve decided to tell me about it at your father’s retirement party.
—It wasn’t exactly planned that way.
I looked towards the main table.
Claudia was talking to Carmen.
She didn’t look like a woman who had appeared by accident.
—You had reserved my seat for him.
Javier remained silent.
That was answer enough.
—You wanted to do it here.
—I wanted to avoid a worse situation.
—Worse for whom?
—For everyone.
—No. For you.
For the first time, he raised his voice slightly.
—What did you expect me to do? We haven’t been in touch for years.
—Then you could have asked me for a divorce.
—You know it’s not that simple.
—It was much simpler than this.
—You’re always in your own world, Lucia. Your meetings, your paperwork, your things. You stopped being a real part of my life years ago.
I watched him in disbelief.
—You told me for years that you didn’t want to talk about working from home.
—I’m not talking about that.
—When I tried to talk about us, you were tired. When I tried to talk about my projects, you changed the subject. When I tried to understand what was worrying you, you said you didn’t want to hear about company problems.
—Because you didn’t understand them.
That phrase stayed between us.
Simple.
Automatic.
Sincere.
Javier realized it too late.
—I didn’t mean to say it like that.
—Yes, you wanted to.
—Lucía…
—Do you know what your mistake has been all these years?
—I don’t want to argue here.
—You’ve confused the fact that I didn’t need to prove something to you with the fact that I had nothing to prove.
Her gaze shifted back towards the living room.
—Please lower your voice.
I hadn’t even lifted it.
—Don’t worry. I’m not going to embarrass you.
That did hurt him.
You see it.
But not enough for him to understand.
Carmen approached.
—Javier, Claudia wants to leave.
My husband looked at her.
—I’m coming now.
Carmen stayed with me.
—I hope you’ll be calmer tomorrow.
—I’m quite calm.
—You know what I mean.
-Perfectly.
He lowered his voice.
—Don’t turn the separation into an economic war. Javier has worked incredibly hard to achieve what he has.
A laugh almost escaped me.
—I haven’t mentioned money.
—No need. I know how these things work.
—What things?
—Divorces.
He moved a little closer.
“You have a wonderful house, you’ve traveled, you’ve never lacked anything. Javier has always been generous with you. It wouldn’t be fair for you to try to take advantage of him now.”
I stared at her for a long second.
That woman had seen her son ask me for money sixteen years earlier to pay the payroll.
I had dinner in our small apartment when we shared a folding table.
He knew I had turned down London.
But memory is also influenced by status.
As Javier earned money, his family reconstructed the past into a much more pleasant story: he had triumphed, and I had accompanied him.
“Do you remember the apartment in Arganzuela?” I asked.
He frowned.
-Of course.
—Do you remember who paid the bail?
—Lucía, I don’t see what that has to do with anything…
—And the company’s first payrolls?
—That was a very long time ago.
-Exact.
That was a very long time ago.
Enough so that it no longer mattered.
