‘It’s a surprise,’ answered Gus. ‘You’ll see soon enough.’
Natalia was going to insist, but Gus ran his thumb and fingers over his lips, pretending to close them with a zip. Unbelievable. The young man was incapable of keeping his mouth shut and, for the one time when she wanted him to talk, he refused. Natalia leant back in the seat and tried to distract herself by looking at the streets of Bilbao. She could feel that her hands were trembling and that she was beginning to sweat from having the bouquet so close to her. Her stomach was churning and she was feeling the urge to vomit. When she next saw Carlos, she would have to make the difficult decision of whether to smile and kiss him, or fling the bouquet at his head for having made her go through such a thing. At the end of the street, she made out the tall tower of the Basilica of Begoña. She leant forwards in order to resume speaking with Gus.
‘Is that were we’re going?’
‘Yes, Miss. We’re here now.’
‘But that’s impossible,’ she said, in astonishment. ‘It takes years to get a place for getting married in Begoña.’
‘It’s one of the advantages of being a hero.’
Gus winked at her and parked the car in front of the church. Then he got out, opened the door for her, and held out his hand to help her out. There were an incredible number of people waiting and applauding her arrival, as if she were a film star. Holding onto Gus’s arm, she walked between those people, who had positioned themselves on either side of the entrance, forming an aisle. She was able to make out the faces of many of them: colleagues from headquarters, family members, classmates from school and university whom she had not seen for years... How had Carlos managed to get in contact with all of those people?
The moment she set foot on the church’s aisle, a string quartet began to play the Wedding March. Everybody stood up to watch her progression. Natalia was grateful that Gus was by her side, holding her arm, because her legs were trembling so badly that she was afraid they would not be able to hold her up. The young man seemed to notice it, because he held on tighter to her and gave her a reassuring smile.
Carlos was waiting for her at the end of the aisle. He was very elegant in his black suit, and his eyes sparkled when their gaze met. Natalia positioned herself beside him in front of the altar. In that moment she realised that, beside Carlos, there was an attractive brunette woman whom she did not know.
‘Hello,’ Natalia whispered to him after giving him a brief and timid kiss by way of greeting. ‘I’m going to kill you as soon as the ceremony’s over.’
‘Well, at least you’d go down in the Guinness Book of World Records as the fastest woman ever to become a widow,’ he joked.
‘Don’t think I’m going to easily forgive you for this.’ Natalia took a surreptitious look towards the dark-haired woman who was smiling beside Carlos. ‘Who is she?’
‘Ana.’
‘Which Ana?’
‘Good grief, my ex-wife,’ replied Carlos. ‘I’ve already told you about her.’
‘You’ve asked your ex-wife to be your maid of honour?’ asked Natalia, shocked.
‘Well, after making her come from London to sign the annulment papers, I thought I ought to show some courtesy towards her,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders.
‘I don’t know whether I’m going to be able to forgive you for this, either.’
In that moment, the priest began to speak and the whole church was plunged into a respectful silence. The ceremony proceeded normally until the priest asked for the rings. Natalia looked at Carlos, afraid that he had forgotten them at home, but he smiled, brought two fingers to his mouth, and let out a sharp whistle. Art appeared at the church door, carrying a little basket in his mouth and wagging his tail as he approached them. All of the attendees laughed, and the priest had to ask them to control themselves. When the dog finally arrived alongside them, Carlos crouched down, took the basket out of Art’s mouth, and gave him a treat that he had taken out of his trouser pocket.
‘You don’t know how difficult it was teaching him to do that,’ he said as he straightened up. ‘It was harder than all the other wedding preparations combined.’
‘You’re absolutely mad,’ said Natalia, laughing, ‘but you’ve really put the work in. For this, everything is forgiven.’
*****
Gus went out onto the balcony of the restaurant, leant on the balustrade, and lit a cigarette. The wedding was going successfully, but the heat in there was starting to get unbearable. Besides, he thought that the DJ ought to be sentenced to death for having such bad taste in music. After a couple of minutes had gone by, he heard the door to the balcony opening, and the sound of a pair of high heels approaching him. He turned and saw Lorena, wearing a blue satin dress. She looked like an angel. He had spent the whole day looking at her, spellbound. She positioned herself alongside him, and he placed an arm around her waist.
‘What do you make of the wedding? Are you having a good time?’ he asked her.
‘I am, actually, but we’ll have to be leaving soon. I’ve arranged to meet up with the others in Algorta at ten.’
‘But why did you arrange to meet with them if you knew that today we were going to be at a wedding?’ asked Gus, surprised.
‘Sure, but we’re not going to be spending all day here.’
‘I don’t know when this is going to finish, but I plan on staying here until the end. They’re my best friends, and I want to be with them.’
‘Okay, I’ll tell the others we’ll be arriving a little later. But not much though, as we have to talk about the trip to Cuba.’
‘What trip? Which Cuba?’ asked Gus, hurt upon seeing that she had not listened to even a single word he had just said.
‘Which Cuba is it going to be? The island.’ Lorena laughed and shook her head. ‘We’re all going as soon as the exams are over.’
‘And you weren’t planning on telling me you were going away?’
‘But you are coming too, you know. Flipping heck, Gus, you don’t notice anything.’
‘Perhaps I would notice if you ever consulted me about anything. You make decisions about my life without asking me at all.’
‘But I’m telling you about it now... Do you have a problem with going to Cuba?’
‘Well yeah, I have lots of problems with it.’
‘If it’s because of money, don’t worry. I’ll pay for you.’
‘It’s not because of money,’ protested Gus. ‘I’ve already told you that after the exams I have the public examinations for joining the Ertzaintza.’
‘Yeah, but we should also talk about that. Do you really want to be a policeman? I’ve been talking with my father, and he’s told me that he can get you a much better job in one of his companies.’ Lorena pressed her body against him, raised her hand, and caressed one of his locks of hair. ‘Of course, you’d have to cut your hair to work there.’
‘That’s enough, Lorena.’
Gus gently pushed her away to separate her from him, and turned his back on her. He did not know whether he had now reached the limit of his patience, or whether the rum and cokes he had imbibed where having too much of an effect, but he felt as though he could no longer tolerate any more. He took a firm hold of the balustrade, to hide the trembling in his hands and, without daring to look her in the eyes, he began to speak.
‘This is over. I’m not going to go to Cuba with you, I’m not going to work in any company belonging to your father, and I am not going to cut my damn hair.’ He breathed deeply in order to try to find courage within himself before uttering the next sentence. ‘And I’m not going to continue going out with you, either.’
‘But what are you saying? Have I done something wrong?’
‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ said Gus, smiling at the cliché. ‘I’ve realised that I have a ton of value as a person, and that I deserve someone who appreciates me and doesn’t manipulate me. I’m fed up with being your pushover.’
‘You’re a moron, Gus. Never in your life
are you going to be with a girl like me again.’ Gus felt his strength waning upon seeing the tears well up in Lorena’s eyes. ‘You’ll regret this.’
She left the balcony, slamming the door shut. Gus remained leaning against the railing, watching how her figure became lost amongst the people at the party. He took out a new cigarette and lit it, unable to take his eyes off her until she disappeared.
‘I’m already regretting it,’ he said to himself.
The door to the balcony opened again, and a girl he did not know came over to him with an unlit cigarette in her lips.
‘I’m sorry, do you have a light?’
‘Yes, of course.’
Gus took the lighter out of his pocket and handed it to her. Then, he turned his back to her and went back to leaning on the railing, hoping that she would realise that he did not want a conversation.
‘Quite a party, isn’t it?’ she said, ignoring all of the signals he was sending her. ‘It’s incredible. To tell the truth, it’s been ages since I last saw Natalia. We’re distant cousins, and I wasn’t expecting her to invite me to her wedding. I’ve had to get everything ready at full speed. You know: the clothes, the shoes, the hair... It’s been a crazy couple of weeks, but it’s been worth the pain.’
Gus turned towards her and studied her. To tell the truth, it really must have cost the girl a lot of effort to find those clothes. She was wearing a short dress that seemed to be comprised of pieces of black tulle of different lengths held in by a leather corset, and a pair of red sequined shoes that seemed as if they had been taken right out of The Wizard of Oz. Those things could not be found in the shops of Bilbao. Her hairstyle was also strange. It was a brown bob, with reddish streaks, in which every end appeared to be branching off in a different direction. Only her fringe was smooth and seemed to be maintaining an order, but it was so long that it completely covered the right side of her face. She had a pretty smile, and eyes (at least the one that was visible) in the same steely grey as Natalia’s, but on her they did not appear cold or threatening.
‘We haven’t introduced ourselves. I’m Lis,’ she said.
‘Lis? What’s your real name? Elisa? Elisabeth?’ asked Gus, shaking the hand she held out to him.
She laughed, shook her head, and, in one go, emptied, the glass she was carrying in her hand before answering.
‘I can’t tell you. If I did, I’d have to kill you.’ She laughed again and shrugged her shoulders. ‘Okay, I’ll tell you, because you seem to be a trustworthy boy, but don’t laugh. My name is Lisandra. Yes, I know. My parents must have really hated me.’
‘I understand your pain. My name’s Agustín, but you can call me Gus.’
‘Wow, my name’s uglier, but yours has worse arrangement.’ The two of them shared a burst of laughter. ‘Listen, you’re the best man, right? You wouldn’t happen to have any control over the DJ would you?’
‘What would you like to listen to?’ he asked, interested.
‘Something with drums and electric guitars. If I carry on listening to Enrique Iglesias, Gente de Zona or Fonsi, I’m going to end up throwing myself off this balcony.’
‘I have the complete discography of Metallica in the car.’ Gus put a hand in his trouser pocket and showed her the key fob. ‘Do you want to come?’
She turned around without answering at all, and headed towards the door on the balcony. Gus feared that he had offended her with his suggestion, but did not dare to call out to her to stop her. It was obvious that he had no luck with women.
‘Aren’t you coming?’ she asked after opening the door.
‘Where are you going? There are some stairs here that lead to the car park.’
‘To fill up my glass,’ she replied with a mischievous smile. ‘That way we’ll be able to spend more time listening to music, talking... or whatever comes up.’
*****
It was already getting dark when Natalia went out for a breath of fresh air on the balcony. She stood looking at the landscape, spellbound. The sun was setting over the horizon, colouring the waves of the sea in tones of orange. The seagulls soared calmly over the sea, breaking the silence with their sharp cries.
Carlos came out after her, stood behind her, and put his arms around her waist. She rested her head on his chest and placed her hands over his. They remained in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the peace of the scenery and the sensation of being together forever. Carlos leant towards her and placed a kiss on her neck.
‘Happy?’ he asked her.
‘Yes, very. Everything has been so perfect... The dress, the ceremony, the restaurant, the banquet, all the people you’ve invited... How did you know I would want all of this? It’s as if you read my mind.’
‘That wasn’t necessary. It’s the good thing about having an obsessive fiancée who keeps all the information about the wedding in a box with a label that says “Wedding”, and who has gone along classifying everything she liked and highlighting everything in colours in accordance with her preferences. All I had to do was photocopy it all and send it to Carla.’
‘Thank you.’ She turned towards him and kissed him. ‘All of this has been like a dream. Now I’m going to be sad that it’s ending.’
‘Who said it’s ending? Why, tomorrow we’ll be leaving for our honeymoon: Paris, Rome, Milan, Venice...’
‘Seriously?’ she asked, with her eyes shining like those of an excited little girl.
‘Yes. And, after that, you’ll have to carry on putting up with me for the rest of your life, so there’s no need to worry. This isn’t ending as long as you don’t want it to.’
She smiled and went back to looking towards the sea whilst he wrapped his arms all around her. Suddenly, a question forged its way in her mind. She turned her head backwards in order to be able to look him in the face without having to move away from him.
‘There’s something I don’t understand,’ she said, feeling worried. ‘How are we going to pay for all of this?’
He laughed and deposited a kiss on her hair whilst hugging her even more tightly.
‘Don’t worry, I know you’re very traditional: therefore, just as tradition dictates, all of this has been paid for by the father of the bride.’
Gemma Herrero Virto
Portugalete, 13th March 2018
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[1] Bidegorri: the Basque name for the cycle lane. ‘Bide’ means road, or path, and ‘gorri’ means red, in reference to the colour of the tarmac of these lanes, which serves to indicate that they are only authorised for bicycles. This does not prevent every retired person in the Basque Country from deciding that they prefer to walk down them, −even if they have pavements or lanes set up for pedestrians,− and even buying themselves trainers with a more hardy sole because they complain that this red tarmac is highly abrasive and not easy to walk along.
[2] Meaning ‘We Can’, Po
demos is a left-wing Spanish populist party that was founded in 2014.
The White Corpses Page 30