The Blue Line

by Ingrid Betancourt

  After a short but fast trip, the car comes to a stop again. Theo and the woman get out, slamming the doors. Julia listens as their footsteps grow fainter on the asphalt, hears the click of the remote locking system. She quickly pushes the seat forward and pokes her head out, leaning on her elbows. Theo is walking away, hand in hand with a slender woman in a dark green suit, her black hair pulled into a chignon. She walks confidently in black high heels. They push the revolving door that leads into the lobby of an inn. Theo lets the woman go ahead, his hand on her waist. He glances back instinctively.

  Julia can’t take her eyes off them. She watches them disappear and remains motionless, barely breathing, staring straight ahead, her mind blank.

  She looks away, her gaze seeking to alight somewhere else, on her hands, on her ugly gray tracksuit. It hurts less than she expected. She doesn’t feel anything, just her heart beating faster. And emptiness. A hollowness in her stomach. She feels her soul seeping out of her solar plexus. She digs three fingers into her stomach to hold it in.

  With an effort, Julia gets out of the car, walks toward the hotel, and summons the concierge. If I come face-to-face with Theo, so much the better.

  The young man in a gray uniform makes a point of speaking to her as if he can’t see her.

  “Your taxi will be here in a few minutes,” he assures her, and plunges back into his routine.

  She has to find something to occupy herself, so she pretends to be interested in the financial papers and the real estate magazines. I’m going to die. She raises her eyes, surprised to find them brimming with tears. I’m drowning in self-pity. I can’t do this. She sees herself sliding down; any minute now she’ll be curling up on the floor.

  “Ma’am, your taxi’s waiting.”

  When she turns to thank the young man, all trace of emotion is gone from her face. She flashes him a radiant smile; intimidated, the employee lowers his gaze.

  Julia walks gracefully toward the car. “Drop me at the train station,” she says calmly.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she notices a young woman in a dark green suit coming out of the hotel and slipping into another taxi just behind her own. She can’t help feeling a hint of satisfaction at the thought that she’s still one step ahead.

  13.

  THE RETURN

  End of the Boreal Summer

  2006

  The thirteenth of the month and a Friday, as it happens. She had to find out today, of all days. It’s just a coincidence. Mama Fina used to pretend she didn’t care, but she made a point never to schedule anything important on that day. No matter. Julia feels serene. She chose to know. It was what she wanted. It’s not a stroke of fate. The truth was essential for her. Lying was at its core an act of contempt and unbearable condescension. In a way, she and Theo are even now.

  Julia looks out the window as the familiar stations slip by, one after another. This is her train line, the one she takes home from New York after work meetings. The farther they get from the city, the more scattered the buildings become; skyscrapers give way to big houses overlooking marinas, which in turn are replaced by small provincial towns, home to BJ’s and Home Depots.

  Julia sees the sea recede and then return. Near Bridgeport the red-and-white-striped chimney pours smoke into a clear sky. The train doesn’t stop at the station but loops around at speed, skirting the coast.

  —

  Like when she saw Theo again for the first time after all the years of silence, at the beginning of 2002. They needed to go out into the street to avoid being alone together in an intimacy they both feared. They walked instinctively toward the water, passing under the High Line in Manhattan’s Meatpacking District. But at four o’clock in the morning, the rusted structure of the abandoned railway had a dismal air. They went past it with relief, but by the time they reached the waterfront, they still hadn’t managed to break the silence.

  A cold wind began to blow from the north. They moved closer together.

  “I’ve dreamed of this moment so often,” Julia said, watching the tossing of the waves. “But now I don’t know if it makes sense anymore.”

  “Let’s not overthink it, Julia.”

  “But I have to try to understand what happened to us.”

  Theo placed a finger on her lips to silence her. “Look at the sea, Julia. It’s been faithful to me for nearly half a century now. It reminds me who I am.”

  “It’s been my constant companion too. But I’m no longer the same person.”

  The lights of the city were reflected in the water like so many black stars.

  “And you? Who are you?” Julia asked him.

  Theo stared, fascinated, at the stretch of dark water between the banks of the estuary. “I’m cursed,” he murmured, as if he were the only person in the whole world.

  Julia shivered and turned up the collar of her coat. “You don’t have the right to say that.”

  “It’s not about having the right, Julia,” Theo replied.

  “You’re not a victim. You’re a survivor, Theodoro.”

  He turned to Julia, his face contorted. He was practically yelling. “Don’t you get it? My brother is dead, my mother, my father. All because of me.”

  Julia took his hand: “Not because of you, Theo. Because of their love for you!”

  He jerked his hand free and pushed her away. “Love? What is love? It’s just a meaningless word.”

  She watched him for a long time, then walked in pain slowly away, back along the piers toward the lights of the avenue. A taxi went by, empty. The huge billboards from December were still up, brightly lit as if by mistake. When she reached the intersection, blinking under the orange glow of the streetlights, she decided to go home.

  Theo ran after her and caught up. He stood in front of her, helpless, panting.

  “Please. . . . Teach me again about love.”

  —

  Julia leans against the window of the carriage as the train passes by the little town of Stratford. The gray blue painted houses flash past, the white clock tower, the bridges, the boats, the roads, the street life. She couldn’t care less. All she can see is Theo.

  —

  They woke up happy the next morning. They had made plans all night. She would come back and he would meet Ulysses. Finally giving in to hunger, they left the house in Chelsea and headed for the French bakery on the corner, where they sat like lovers at one of the small, out-of-the-way tables. Theo couldn’t stop talking. He wanted to buy a house with a big fireplace and a garden full of flowers. He wanted a motorcycle. And he wanted a dog that would sit by his side while he looked at the stars.

  “I haven’t had a home since. I’ve been living like a nomad all this time.”

  Julia kissed him softly. Theo pulled away to add: “Because I could only ever have a home with you, Julia.”

  Julia felt scared. Life couldn’t be that perfect.

  They spent the entire afternoon wandering around, getting to know each other again, laughing again like children. Along the way, they stopped outside the gates of Our Lady of Guadalupe on Fourteenth Street. They took the stairs two at a time, clowning around, and found themselves inside the church almost unintentionally. A Mexican couple was getting married, and the families were standing in the chancel. The bride was wearing an organza dress buried under silver sequins and an embroidered mantilla on her head.

  Julia and Theo knelt for a moment, then went back out in silence. The noise of the city took them by surprise. Theo sought refuge in the doorway of a building and pulled Julia in with him.

  “I just made a wish.”

  Julia blushed.

  “I want to marry you.”

  “In thirty years’ time?” she answered slyly, kissing him.

  —

  She steps off the train into the bustle of the station and allows herself to be swept along by the risin
g tide of people. Lost in her own world, she finds herself alone on the sidewalk outside the station. She turns left like a robot, her feet finding the way home automatically. She crosses roads without stopping and nearly gets run over by a driver who leans on his horn. She comes to a stop in front of some railings with no idea what she’s doing there. On the other side rows of cars fill the huge parking lot outside IKEA. Her fingers grip the bars. She is overwhelmed by a feeling of powerlessness. Annoyed, she moves away and makes an effort to fill her lungs with fresh air, resumes her path, steps up her pace.

  —

  Julia didn’t expect the meeting between Ulysses and Theo to go so badly. The three of them met up in the spring. Ulysses wanted to visit New York, and Theo could get there easily. They took the ferry to the Statue of Liberty and stopped at Ellis Island.

  Theo was dragging his feet. The idea of sightseeing exasperated him, and he had no interest whatsoever in the history of American immigrants. To make things worse, it started to rain, and the lines became endless. In an attempt to be pleasant, Ulysses pretended to look for Theo’s name among the long list of immigrants who had passed through the island. Theo took it badly.

  “What does it matter to you? You don’t even have my name!”

  “Wait a minute. . . . You weren’t there!”

  “Exactly, so just as well you kept your mother’s name.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about not going digging into other people’s pasts. What are we doing here, looking at photos and reading stories of people we don’t know?”

  “I’m not surprised you feel that way; you’re not even interested in your own family’s past.”

  “Stop it, Ulysses,” Julia implored.

  Ulysses upped the ante: “No, since we’re here, let’s talk about it. We’d like to know why you didn’t look for us. My mother spent thirty years searching the whole world for you.”

  “I don’t have to stand trial before you, Ulysses. You know nothing about my life. You don’t know me.”

  “Well, this is as good a time as any to get to know each other,” Ulysses replied. “We’ve lived all these years on the love my mother had for you. What about you? What have you lived on?”

  Theo was trembling.

  “I’ve lived on hate!”

  —

  She’ll talk to him. It will only take a second for her to gauge the extent of the damage.

  She pulls herself together, annoyed at her own weakness. There’s no need to talk to him; she’s already aware of the damage! In any case, she can’t stay. She’d rather lose him than pretend not to know. And yet for one brief moment she’s tempted to say nothing, to fake it, if only to see how far he means to take it. She manages to smile, imagining it.

  No. Her choice is made. She wants to be free. Free not to lie. Free to confront her fears. Even to love him in spite of himself.

  14.

  THE NEIGHBORS

  End of the Boreal Summer

  2006

  The sight of the blue and orange flowers that she planted throughout the garden and around the base of her old tree pains her. Julia turns to gaze at the avenue and, beyond, her sea. Always in its place, smooth, its horizon stretching straight as a ruler. The human universe seems ephemeral in contrast, precarious. Julia will leave; the house and the flowers will remain. She has already left. She will not grow old with a faceless man, like in a Magritte painting.

  Julia turns the key in the lock like a thief. Everything seems foreign to her now. She walks slowly toward the cut-stone fireplace in the living room. Theo wanted to put in a vent and install a pellet stove to reduce their heating bill. Julia was against it, and the issue turned into a fight: he would be the one to decide. In the end Julia managed to convince him to put the stove in the basement, because then the heat would rise and warm all the rooms, even the ones upstairs. Theo agreed begrudgingly and got his revenge by insisting on keeping the heat on its lowest setting during the day, turning it up only when he got home. So Julia spent her winters wrapped in a blanket, waiting for a man hemmed in by his obsessions, needing to punish himself and the world.

  I’ve let myself be engulfed by his demands, succumbing to who he wanted me to become.

  Their wedding photo has pride of place on the mantelpiece. Standing beside them, Ulysses does not look like their son. Julia is wearing the lace dress Anna brought her from Argentina. Theo looks handsome. He has that same boyish air as when he takes her by the hand and kisses her surreptitiously, as if he might be caught.

  A few days before they were arrested, they came to an agreement. The military knew that the leftist youth were distrustful of religious weddings. When the police persecution was at its height, the Montoneros had given orders to marry in churches, because wedding photos would deter the milicos* from continuing a search.

  Holding the photograph, she looks around her and mechanically makes an inventory of all the things that will have to be packed up. Would she have preferred not to know? She collapses onto the sofa. If she had the energy, she would pick up the phone and call her friend Diane.

  Instead, Julia goes to fetch her bicycle. She must steady her insides, which are churning like snakes in a sack. She turns right, with no particular destination in mind, and passes a couple out jogging. They stop in their tracks and call out to her. She recognizes them as two of Theo’s colleagues who live in their neighborhood.

  “Back home early from the office?” Julia asks, by way of small talk.

  “No, we take Fridays off. That way we get to have a long weekend.”

  “I thought they ended that system.”

  “No, it’s still going. Thankfully!” the young woman says, ready to start running again. Then, jogging back, she adds: “Come over for dinner this weekend. We’ll invite Mia too.”

  “Mia?”

  “Yes, the new Korean girl. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “I don’t know who she is,” Julia replies, smiling.

  “She and Theo often have lunch together. I thought . . .”

  Julia cuts her off. “Great! It’ll give me a chance to meet her.”

  Well, it looks like I’m the last one to know.

  —

  She gets back home and heads straight for her cell phone.

  “Diane, darling, it’s me. Yes. I need your help.”

  15.

  DIANE

  End of the Boreal Summer

  2006

  Diane and Julia met by chance during the winter of 2002. At least that’s what Diane thought. They became friends following a terrible accident outside the mall in Milford. Diane left her new Jaguar in the parking lot on the other side of Boston Post Road because the lot at the mall was full. She was about to cross the four-lane highway on foot, flouting traffic laws the Latino way. Diane had been born in Buenos Aires and had lived in Spain for a long time, working as a professional dancer. It was there that she had met Max, a wealthy East Coast real estate developer, who had brought her to the States, setting her up in a grand house in New Haven while they waited for his divorce to come through.

  Diane was getting ready to cross snow-covered Boston Post Road when a pretty woman muffled in a fluffy white parka started running toward her, calling out and waving her arms, despite the risk of slipping on the icy sidewalk. Diane assumed it was a comical case of mistaken identity. But the strange woman flung her arms around Diane’s neck, exclaiming in a strong porteño* accent: “¡Vos no sabés lo que te he buscado!”*

  The next instant their heads swiveled in unison to watch as a pickup lost control on a patch of black ice and rammed into the undercarriage of a Whole Foods truck coming from the opposite direction. It all had seemed to happen in slow motion. The speeding truck flipped over on its side and slid crosswise down the avenue, carrying off everything in its path amid a terrifying screech of tires, brakes, and
crushed metal.

  The cacophony gave way to a heavy silence.

  “I think you just saved my life,” Diane said.

  Clinging to each other, Diane and Julia moved away blindly and sat down. They discovered they were both porteñas from the same part of La Boca, that neither had been in the United States long, that they’d both spent a significant part of their lives in Europe, and that they lived a fifteen-minute drive from each other. Clearly there was no such thing as coincidence.

  Julia didn’t say anything about her gift, or the journey that had enabled her to foresee the accident, or the sleepless nights she had spent crouching in the bathroom, reviewing the images to find a clue.

  In fact, it was by sheer chance that Julia had recognized the intersection where the accident would take place. She had gone to Milford to get one of Theo’s suits altered. She had recognized the intersection when she’d done a U-turn on the avenue to get to the shop and found herself smack in the middle of her vision. Julia had then determined that the accident would take place on a Tuesday, because that was the day Whole Foods trucks delivered to the store, and worked out the approximate time based on the usual delivery schedule.

  Each Tuesday at the same time for the previous three weeks, Julia had taken up a position outside the parking lot of the menswear store and stood watching for the arrival of a woman she knew hardly anything about, just that she would be driving a metallic-gray car, wearing red nail polish, and toying with a Boca Juniors key ring. She’d had no doubt that Diane was her source when she’d seen her risking her life by charging into the flow of traffic without waiting for the light to change.

  By way of explanation, she told Diane that she had mistaken her for a friend she hadn’t seen since her youth in Buenos Aires. In one sense it could have been true. Julia had immediately been intrigued by the demeanor of this woman who, like Rosa, had the unmistakable allure of a girl from Buenos Aires.