Unveiling Truths and Facing Deceptions
I spun the envelope in my hands. I had buried that desire to know who Juan's father was many years ago, even now with everything that's happening. However, as they say, the truth always comes out. My fingers would glide over the edges in a simple gesture, and everything would be revealed. All it would take is my fingers coming together and tearing open the edge, and that's it. Simple... easy... Yet, I didn't feel like I was the one who should open the envelope. I didn't feel entitled to do so. I take a deep breath and then place it on my coffee table. Furthermore, I stand up and walk to the hallway, where I grab my purse, open it, and take out my cell phone. I scroll through my call list until I reach a specific number—the number of the person I believe has the right to know. After a few rings, the line is answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Carlos,” I say calmly.
“Is something wrong?” Carlos asks, concerned.
“We need to talk...”
“Dália, if it's about the summons, know that it's for the best this way,” Carlos says.
“Carlos, I'm not calling about that. I already understand that you want to put an end to our story. However, before you do that, we need to sit down and talk. There's a lot that needs to be clarified, explained, and revealed.”
“Where?”
“Meet me at La Barca del Salamanca tomorrow at seven o'clock.”
“Whatever you say...”
“None of this is going as I want it to... Nothing has turned out the way I wished,” I say, but the line is already silent.
***
I adjust my silver hoop earring in my ear while admiring my reflection in my vanity mirror. The messy bun with loose strands and the heavy makeup helped to disguise the fact that I had not slept at all the night before. I confess I spent the night creating scripts, scenarios, and speeches, but nothing ended well between Carlos and me. I grab my purse, stand up, and walk toward my living room. Furthermore, I approach the coffee table, reaching to carefully place the still sealed envelope and the paper next to it inside my bag, then closing it. I leave the loft and head for the elevator, pressing the first-floor button. I feel the clock's hands advancing on my wrist; each movement feels like a touch on my skin. The elevator doors slide open, and I step in alone. Alone—that's how I was at that moment, and that's how I would return to my home. I wonder if I could also achieve redemption like Filomena while I watch the floors decrease. Briefly analyzing Carlos's reaction at the beginning of our relationship and how he acted with his fiancée, I didn't stand a chance. The elevator doors open, and I walk through the garage to reach my parking spot.
“Doce?” X's voice comes from behind me, making me turn around, startled. He smiles, admiring my black satin sheath dress, and then says, “I'm very happy to see that Pandora's words didn't affect you.”
“What are you doing here, X?” I ask, still surprised to see him dressed in a black tuxedo, standing in my building's garage.
“I came to see you... After what happened at my place, I deduced that you would like an explanation,” X replies.
“I don't need an explanation,” I say, grabbing my keys. I start walking towards my car, only hearing the sound of X's shoes on the ground as he follows me.
“I can see you don't need one. It's good to see that your presence at the inauguration wasn't affected,” X comments, making me stop in the middle of unlocking my car door and look at him.
“I'm not going to your inauguration,” I reveal, tapping my fingers lightly on the top of the driver's door. “I'm going out to dinner with Carlos.”
“What do you mean?” X questions, incredulously stepping closer. “You're going out to dinner with him? After everything? Is this a way to punish me because Pandora showed up at my house?”
“X, this has nothing to do with you... That's a lie,” I say, stepping away from my car to walk towards him. “It does have to do with you.”
“Dália, I didn't know she was going to show up,” X says, holding onto my arms. “Believe me.”
“I don't care that she showed up at your house,” I say, looking at X and holding back tears. “I care that you lied to me once again.”
“I lied about what?” X asks, not understanding.
“You said you were the one who filed for divorce,” I respond, biting my lip afterward. “But it was her.”
“I never said it was me,” X denies. “I said I was divorced when I saw you.”
“We were having dinner just a few days ago, and you said...”
“No, you assumed that... I said it wouldn't make a difference and that the pain was the same,” X argues.
“Of course, as always,” I comment, moving away from X. “It's always like this, I'm the one concluding your words. You never say anything. You never say anything...”
“I didn't file for divorce, Dália, but that doesn't mean that I wasn't also interested in ending my marriage,” X explains once again evasively.
“And there it is, another evasive statement that leads to various interpretations,” I say, pointing towards him. I place my hand lightly over my lips and then say, “What can I interpret from this? Did you want to separate? You didn't want to, but you were forced to? What am I supposed to conclude, X? You know what? Forget it... I don't have time to play guessing games about what's going on in your head.”
“Dália, let's talk,” X pleads, raising his hand toward me.
“No, because I already have plans,” I refuse, turning back to my car. “By the way, thank Pandora for me.”
“How?” X asks, confused.
“Yes, she told me that you had the most honest conversation of your lives, and that's exactly what I'll do with my husband today... I'll tell him everything,” I finish, getting into the car.
I start the car, illuminating X, who steps aside to let me pass. Likewise, I exit the garage, but not without looking at X's silhouette in my rearview mirror.
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