Love in Lowercase (18 page)

I didn't bother returning the missing page to Titus. Instead I went downstairs, planning to walk to the city center.

It was one of those decisions that only make sense long after you've made them. Somehow I'd accepted that the leitmotif for the day was “Anything can happen,” so I wanted to get to the music shop before it closed.

Titus's return, Valdemar's disappearance, and the discovery of his manuscript had unleashed so many doubts that I was determined to sort out at least one thing, and this depended on me and me alone. I'd offended Gabriela and had to apologize. It was the only way to put an end to the whole sorry affair.

This time, I needed no pretext. I'd just walk into the music shop, say I was sorry for my stupid behavior, and wish her luck. If I could leave it at that, order would be restored. Sooner or later, love's wounds would heal and I'd eventually go back to my quiet, solitary existence. Recent events heralded more troubles ahead, and I was going to need all my strength to deal with them.

—

I got there just in time to see Gabriela lowering the metal blind. I stopped some three yards away from her, careful not to invade
her space. Before she saw me, I mustered the whole world's supply of
serenitas
and rehearsed the words of the apology I'd prepared in advance.

However, when she turned and glared at me with those almond-shaped eyes, I couldn't speak. I was trying to come up with a briefer version of my expression of regret, but she beat me to it.

“I've been trying to call you since yesterday, but your phone's busy all the time. Why do you act like this? I was worried about you.”

After my initial shock, I remembered that I'd disconnected my phone and answering machine two days earlier, for the afternoon snack with Meritxell. I had forgotten to plug them in again. Only someone who never gets phone calls would be capable of such an oversight.

“Never mind,” she said when I didn't answer, “the most important thing is that you're OK. I was afraid you'd done something crazy.”

“Well, I did,” I confessed as we walked down La Rambla. “I walked right across Barcelona and up to the forest on Mount Tibidabo.”

“What did you do then?”

“I walked back down.”

She laughed. “Well, that's quite a trek!”

We walked along in silence—as far as this is possible on the most crowded street in the world. What on earth were we doing there? Was there no better place to walk?

As if answering my question, Gabriela took my hand and guided me to the pavement on one side. Now I was the one being led along like a zombie as she gently squeezed my fingers, like a little girl who wants to show her father something she's just discovered.

We went through a great stone portal leading into an art bookshop, where a poster informed us that there was an exhibition on Frida Kahlo upstairs. It showed her last painting, which she'd
completed shortly before her painful death. It was a still life with watermelons. One of them was cut in half, with the following words carved into its pulp: “
VIVA LA VIDA
.
” Long live life.

“Do you want to see the exhibition?” I asked, closing my hand around hers.

“I want to show you something else,” she said, tugging me toward the back of the premises and then off to the right and down a dark, damp passageway, in which we had to stoop in order to move forward.

All at once, with Gabriela at my side, I was under the same staircase where we'd met thirty years earlier.

How had we gotten there? The old mansion had been transformed into an exhibition space, so I hadn't recognized it at first. Then again, I hadn't been back there since I was a small boy, so it had seemed bigger in my memory.

Gabriela flashed me a mischievous look, which made me wonder: had she remembered the same episode as I had, but pretended otherwise the whole time? Or had she relived the experience in a dream, in the same way I'd had my revelation about the manuscript?

“Close your eyes,” she murmured from the shadows, bringing her face closer to mine.

I did as I was told and, one second later, felt an almost imperceptible fluttering on my cheek. The circle was closed.

Opening my eyes, I was afraid that I'd be awakening from a dream. Yet Gabriela was still there, smiling with a challenging expression on her face.

I said, “I suppose the story ends here.”

“On the contrary, this is where it begins.” Her lips moved slowly toward mine, like planets condemned by gravity to
collide.

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