99 Days

by Jessica Galera Andreu

  "Are you all right, Carmen?" I asked her, worried.

  "How do you feel about my son?" she just asked me. She looked up and stared at me.

  That question caught me all of a sudden.

  “Marcos and I...”

  "Do you love him?" She interrupted me.

  I nodded, unable to deny that extreme any more. We had decided not to give him a name, but every gesture, every look, every smile showed me four letters impossible to ignore.

  "Then push him to find a doctor," she asked me, holding my hand. “He'll listen to you. I know my son, that sparkle in his eyes.... He's in love with you, he'll listen to you, Claudia.”

  "It's not what Marcos wants, Carmen," I replied, dismayed. I understood his situation perfectly because I myself had come to feel a ferocious rage when I knew he would take whatever came without trying to avoid it. But she had come to understand that it was only her choice and that everyone else should just respect it. Because Marcos had taught me to see things differently, life differently.

  "But you can't accept that," said Carmen, her tears already burning her cheeks. “If you want to, you can't let him die. “Don't you want to live a life with him? Wouldn't you like to have common projects, marry him, have his children, travel together? All those things he should be able to live; he is so young...”

  "Of course she's not interested in any of that," suddenly a voice intervened.

  I turned and noticed the presence of a woman at the kitchen door. It was tall, jet-black hair, tied up in a straight tail. Her black eyes stared at me in a rage incomprehensible to me, for I knew nothing of her. Or almost.

  "Nerea..." Carmen muttered.

  I couldn't believe it. She was Marcos's ex, a precious woman who seemed to be carved in stone and who had entered the house without even knocking. Would she have a key?

  Nerea walked with a couple of strides, her hands in the pockets of elegant black trousers, identical to the tone of her jacket and a red top underneath.

  "The only thing this little woman is looking for in Marcos is a bit of fun," she said again. “If you really had feelings for him, you would have dragged him to a hospital.”

  "Nerea..." Carmen reprimanded her.

  "It's not what he wants," I replied. “And I just respect his decision.”

  “Respect... What the fuck does it matter what he wants? He's dying, damn it. How can you just live life with him and have the holy balls of saying you love him?”

  "You have no idea what he and I do or don't do," I replied offended, "and of course you're not the one to judge my feelings for Marcos."

  “I know more than you think. Marcos and I have friends in common and I know perfectly well that you limit yourselves to going from one place to another, enjoying life while he consumes himself in his own sickness. You are wasting valuable time and that gives a clear sign that all you want from him is to fuck him and who knows whether to pick up any money later.”

  I didn't even think about it when I gave him a resounding slap that turned her face. Carmen put her hands to her mouth, unable to react, while Nerea returned the slap with rage.

  "That's enough!" shouted Carmen, horrified.

  I pushed Nerea away at the same moment that Marcos was leaning out of the kitchen door, attracted, I imagined, by the screams. I left there crying, like an onslaught, and I also drove Luis, Diana and Alejandro away, towards the street, where it was already dark. Marcos followed me, calling me until he caught up with me and held me by the arm.

  “Claudia, what the hell happened?”

  "I won't allow your ex-wife to treat me the way she did," I shouted, "or to tell me what she told me, or that..."

  "Calm down, please," he asked, holding my face in his hands. “Calm down and tell me...”

  But I didn't have time to tell him anything. He held my hand and dragged me back inside in the face of my reticence and complaints. Everyone was in the room; everyone except Diana and Daphne, whose absence I was grateful for. Those present were arguing, but when we returned, the silence became tense and uncomfortable. A silence that Marcos broke.

  “What happened?”

  "I have only told him a few truths," replied Nerea. Carmen held her arm but could not contain the onslaught of what had been her daughter-in-law, who advanced a couple of steps, standing in front of Marcos to continue talking. “That if I really loved you or felt something for you, I wouldn't allow you to be wasting time away from the place where you could be cured, Marcos. You are like a child playing a thousand idiocies while life escapes you and you don't understand it.”

  "Nerea, stop it, please," asked Alejandro.

  "I won't shut up. Your mother is devastated,” she went on to say to Marcos. “Your father, too. I myself, your brother. All of them. And you don't give a shit about a sovereign and you're looking for a bitch to heat your bed and....”

  "Shut up!" shouted Marcos.

  Luis took a step forward and placed his hand on Marcos's shoulder.

  "Don't talk like that in front of Claudia or my mother again," he reproached Nerea.

  "That's not what we think, son," said Carmen. “I'm convinced that Claudia loves you, darling, but... I only asked her to talk to you and try to make you think again. Nerea is nervous and...”

  “Do you realize why I'm not coming or why I'm asking you not to come and see me?” he asked, something more restrained and temperate. “Every minute I spend with you is a permanent reminder of what's going to happen and a suffocating pressure to crush my decision. It's my life! And only I decide how to live it. Claudia has been the only person who has respected him in spite of understanding him as little as you do. I live with her and even though she tries hard to hide it, I hear her crying.”

  That confession left me frozen because I had no idea.

  Then she wipes her tears and turns to pull out a smile. I don't want to scratch hours off a watch at any price. I just want each and every day she gives me. And I would want any of the days that you could give me if you were only meant to enjoy each other. But you don't realize that life escapes us between the cracks of everything you plan so that it doesn't escape us. And when you realize it will be late.

  No one was able to open his mouth. Marcos turned around and left the house in a hurry. When I followed him, I could only hear the tearful cry of his mother behind my back and the others trying to comfort her.

  Marcos got into the car and started the contact.

  “Let's go. It was a bad idea to bring you. I am so sorry.”

  I got into the car with him and took the key out of the ignition.

  "No, for God's sake," I replied. “Not like that, Marcos. You can't leave like that. You'll never forgive yourself. Neither can they.”

  He was silent, with his eyes fixed on the steering wheel.

  “Listen, a couple of nights ago you took me to the beach and showed me the place where I could find you when things rush. Do you know how I took that? That was something like: "Hey, Claudia, I want us to continue enjoying each and every one of the days we have together but don't lose sight of reality; remember that this will end and then you will have to find another way to be with me". “We have no idea when that moment will come, Marcos but if you leave like this, if you leave them this way and it happens ... they won't be able to resist it. Your mother won't stand for it.”

  “She didn't have the right to ask you what she asked. Much less Nerea to tell you what she told you.”

  “Nerea is in love with you.”

  Marco shook his head.

  "No..." he said.

  “Of course she is. All you have to do is see her. And Carmen is your mother; it's logical that she can't accept your decision, darling.”

  Marcos smiled and looked at me.

  "Darling..." he muttered.

  He held my hand and kissed her.

  “You're right.”

  We remained silent for a few seconds; he looked at my hand and I looked at him.

  “I love you, Marcos.”

&nbs
p; His blue eyes rose, nailing themselves to me, and he approached me to kiss me, slowly, enjoying it, somehow tattooing it on my lips.

  "I love you too," he whispered to me.

  We got out of the car again and he threw his arm over my shoulder while I surrounded his waist with mine. We returned to his house and before he had entered the living room, Carmen had already pounced on him, a sea of tears and begging his forgiveness. Marcos ate her with kisses, as well as his father and brother, who joined that improvised and emotional embrace. So did Diana and little Daphne who, fortunately, was not understanding anything about what was going on and kept smiling. Nerea looked at me, visibly excited and rubbing her arms. She was crying but something in her eyes was still hard and recriminating.

  Marcos stood in front of her.

  "I'm so sorry," Nerea muttered. "I'm sorry for what I told you," she added, looking at me. “I'm sorry, Marcos. At times this makes me unbearable.”

  "I understand," he replied. “Nerea, I thank you very much for your interest and that you have always been there in spite of everything. But I'm not going to let you blame Claudia for respecting my decision.”

  She said nothing more and embraced him, wrapped in tears. At that moment it became more evident to me than ever that his ex-wife's feelings continued to beat strongly within her. And it was not strange. Anyone who had gone through Marcos's life would end up falling in love with him, in one way or another.

  CHAPTER 7

  Things had calmed down quite a bit and we even managed to make dinner run smoothly and smoothly. So much so that Marcos had agreed to his mother's request that we stay over. It was strange to me that Nerea shared a table and tablecloth with us, but despite her repeated apologies and her repeated desire to leave, Carmen had insisted and Marcos had not objected to anything. I had hunted her ex looking at Marcos many times, but I considered myself a woman mature enough not to attach more importance to her than I had; by that time and after what I had experienced in the afternoon, I was fully aware of the situation: Nerea was still in love with Marcos, but he had only had eyes and attention for me. However, something had not let me enjoy the evening at all, a redundant thought that continued to whip me while I sat in the bed of the room they had arranged for us, the same one that belonged to Marcos when he was little, although with different furniture, as Carmen had explained to me, and a larger bed for two people.

  Marcos entered through the door and leaned on it, snorting.

  "I'm exhausted," he confessed. “When my father starts with army stories, Luis and I start a silent competition to see who gets smoke out of their heads. I won.”

  I smiled, as he approached and sat on the bed, taking off his shoes.

  “Is your brother going to sleep over too?”

  “No, Luis and Diana have left. Daphne has school tomorrow.”

  “And Nerea?”

  “She'll come up now.” I looked at him, stunned, and he also looked at me. “Don't worry, I'll sleep in the middle so you don't argue.”

  He began to laugh and hugged me tightly, falling on me in bed.

  "You're an idiot, you know that, don't you?" I said.

  "Nerea has already left," he replied, as he stroked my hair. “She has reiterated her apologies to me, and I reiterate my gratitude to you for not having objected to her having dinner here. My mother is still very fond of her, but I understand that he may have made you uncomfortable. You didn't tell me she hit you.”

  “I hit her, too.”

  “What a picture... I'm so sorry.”

  I shook my head. He didn't have to apologize.

  “Do you know that your mother thinks you're in love with me?”

  Marcos frowned without stopping smiling or caressing me.

  "When did you talk about it?" he asked, "Do you confabulate behind my back?"

  I smiled and kissed him on the mouth, holding his face in my hands.

  "This afternoon, in the kitchen. She said she recognized the sparkle in your eyes as she looked at me. What do you think?”

  “I think... that my mother is the person who knows me best in the world.”

  I sighed and the smile wiped from my lips.

  "What is it, Claudia?" Marcos asked me, realizing it.

  “Her reaction... that of Nerea.... I don't know how right I may be that I should move heaven and earth to try to make you... I saw her scream and... and I fully identified a woman in love; one who would destroy everything to save your life. And I... I limit myself to letting time pass without doing anything more than...”

  “Claudia, don't go there. I understand her and I understand my mother but that's not what I need. I need what you give me.”

  Marcos moved away and sat on the bed next to me. I stood up and rested my chin on his shoulder while I held him by my arm.

  “But what if we could see this prolonged? What if we had years and years to live what...?”

  He shook his head smiling and placed his hand on mine.

  “Years and more years. Don't you realize that's where the error is? How long does a life take? 80 years? 90? Is that the right thing to do? That's what I thought before. But when circumstances force you to see things from a different perspective, then you understand. It's not how much that matters, it's how. 90 years of an empty existence are worth nothing more than a life of fullness, of happiness, of feeling that you have everything you need and want to be yourself. And now I have everything, Claudia. My family, my people... and you. You taking me from one madness to another, you waking up by my side every day, you treating me normally. That's all I need. And when the time comes, I won't have anything left to do. I will have lived a lifetime with you. Maybe it's been a few months or... I don't know. But it can be a lifetime,” he said, stressing those words, "if we make it worthwhile, if we measure it in beats."

  “Now... but I want more.”

  "Don't do this to me, please," he asked, holding one hand to his forehead.

  I knelt in front of him and looked at him, begging.

  “Marcos...”

  “I swear to you, if there was even the slightest guarantee that I would recover, I would invest every year that I needed to be cured. But there isn't, Claudia. And if I spend the rest of my days between machines and treatments and end up putting an end to it... I swear I'm horrified by the idea. It could treat me. And maybe it would cure me or maybe it wouldn't. The future is uncertain for everyone and that's why the present is all we have. That time is mine, my only great certainty. Don't insist on taking it away from me.”

  I hugged him, with strength, unable to refute anything. And without further ado, we lay side by side, embraced like every night, in silence. And with the only certainty placed - as he said - in the beat of his own heart.

  ***

  We said goodbye to Marcos' family after breakfast and with the peace of mind of knowing they would see each other more often, we returned to the small coastal town where we were determined to spend the rest of our lives. It could be just a few months, a year at most but it was, without a doubt, the rest of our lives and that approach gave it a different dimension, enormous, fascinating. A life with Marcos.

  It was only ten minutes to go when all of a sudden, he swerved and braked dry, leaving the road. I looked at him, surprised.

  "Are you ill?" I asked him, terrified.

  Marcos smiled and got out of the car; he surrounded him and opened the door on my side, holding my hand and pulling it until I was also outside.

  "What's going on?" I insisted.

  His smile had relaxed me considerably, but I was so disconcerted that I felt that my heart was going to come out of my chest from one moment to the next. And I still had no idea what was going on.

  "Remember when I took you to the beach I predicted a second chapter?" he asked me.

  “Yes...” I replied, doubtful.

  “Well... I wanted to wait, but... it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter when or where. We are in a secondary road of bad death but... And I don't even... God!" he excla
imed.

  “Marcos, what's going on?”

  He took something out of his pocket, a kind of precious stone tied to a string. He held my hand and slid it around my ring finger.

  “Will you marry me?”

  I was unable to breathe for the next ten seconds. I could only look at that improvised ring that Marcos had put on me and listen, in my head, to those three words that had made the world disappear from view. I looked up and focused his blue eyes on me and my answer.

  “I know it's crazy, Claudia, and that you would assume the condition of widow before you had time to assume the condition of married, but there's nothing I want more in the world... than to marry you. And it's fucking selfish of me but I want... I want you to be my wife. To be your husband.”

  “Why?” I was able to ask. The lump in my throat had granted me a truce for that. “I mean...”

  “Because I love you, because I see how you look at me, because I hear you talk about me because I live everything you do to transport me to a thousand magical experiences. And you make me feel that I am everything I want to be for someone. And I can guarantee that you are everything I want for myself. Because fate has given me another chance with you... and I don't want to miss it. And because for the most part, the story of Marcos and Claudia is the story of two kids who wanted something and didn't dare say it. Today that idiot boy doesn't want to shut up about anything he feels. Today that idiot child wants a life with you.”

  I smiled, biting my lower lip. "The story of Marcos and Claudia". It made everything sound so nice in his mouth that I could only hug him.

  “Of course, you will have a much better ring; this is just a symbol that...”

  “I am engaged.”

  When I heard my answer myself, I felt as if my whole body had betrayed me, as if divine justice had taken hold of me to reveal to Marcos something I should have said a long time ago. I knew it was the right thing to do, that he should know, but not in that way. I couldn't understand why I had said it like that, all of a sudden, in the middle of a marriage petition, embracing him. I had told him that when all I wanted was to say yes, that I would marry him without hesitation, that I would follow him anywhere in the world, and that it was what I wanted most in life. I will never forget the face with which he looked at me after that, when we separated in spite of my reluctance to depart from him; his expression dejected and disconcerted. He observed everything around him, as if waiting for the appearance of a hidden camera to destroy the rigidity with which his body had become paralyzed.