Doubt and Decision

We got out of the taxi and stopped in front of the glamorous Sheraton Hotel, and I already regret not considering bringing a more appropriate dress for such a situation. The best I managed was a straight-cut black dress and a loose bun. Carlos takes my arm and leads me into the hotel. We enter the elevator, and my husband presses the top floor, where the Panorama restaurant is located. We step out of the elevator and are immediately met with a panoramic view of the city. What a splendid view it is. I try to recall the last time I entered a restaurant that impressed me like this, but I couldn't remember any.

To the right, a transparent piano delimits the bar area, with a sign indicating that smoking is allowed. To the left, after the wooden counter, is the dining area. Luxury and good taste prevail throughout the place.

"They are over there," Carlos says, lightly holding my arm. I turn and find Duny waving her arm in our direction, causing me to take a deep breath, catching my husband's attention as he approaches my face and whispers, "Please, don't ruin everything."

I stare at my husband, who is no longer paying attention to me. We arrive at the table mostly occupied by men, except for Duny, who is there in the midst of them, all smiles. Carlos introduces me to each of them, and they stand up to greet me, all very cheerful.

"Carl, sit here next to me," Duny requests, lightly tapping the brown leather upholstery of the chair. I notice that there's no place for me on that side, and then she smiles in my direction. "If Dália doesn't mind, of course. We have some items from the report to discuss."

I narrow my eyes, unable to believe she actually asked that. I have two options: Dig in my heels, refuse, and send that Russian back to her country, which is something I'm considering because, as far as I know, this was supposed to be a dinner among friends, not a business meeting. Or, play it cool and accept the request, just to see how far this "friendship" of theirs goes.

"Of course, you can sit. We've been apart for a month; I guess I can wait a few more hours," I reply, making an effort to smile. My husband's expression changes; he doesn't like the comment, gives me a light kiss on the cheek, and sits next to Duny, who extends her hand for my husband to kiss. I sit facing my husband, next to Abílio, the project resources manager, who seems to be around the same age as my husband, with green eyes, blond hair, and a sturdy build. He smiles in my direction when he sees me sitting next to him. I pick up the menu and mutter, "It's just a dinner among friends, Dália."

"Don't worry," says Abílio, showing that he heard what I said. "Dunyasha is like that; no matter the event, she'll always talk about work. You'll get used to it with time. At least your husband got used to it pretty quickly," Abílio adds, watching Duny laugh with my husband, along with me.

"It's like they say: She loves having a superior on top of her," Ferdinando interjects with a hint of malice. He is part of the administrative team, but I can't remember his exact role.

"Ferdinando," reprimands Abílio. He touches my hand and says, "Relax, it's just a tasteless joke from Ferdinando."

"Yes, it's just some innocent workplace gossip," Ferdinando affirms.
But it's already too late; the seed of doubt has been planted in fertile soil. I observe the two of them more carefully. They talk animatedly, always finding a way to touch each other. I try not to look at them too much and focus on the restaurant. Subdued colors, exemplary lighting, and tables at just the proper distance... Duny adjusts Carlos's tie... On the tables - well-dressed in cream tones - there are dishes, water glasses, and silverware, all well-positioned and elegant... Carlos laughs at some dirty joke Duny told... It's as if they are alone at the table. I am about to ask them if they want a hotel room when the waiter arrives with the appetizers: scallop and pineapple carpaccio, which I use to distract my mouth. They smile at each other as the waiter serves the carpaccio, as if they have a big secret:

"Carpaccio," says Carlos, smiling at Duny.

"Carpaccio," Duny repeats, seductive, and then smiles as she takes a bite of her dish.

"Sorry, but what's the code for 'Carpaccio'?" I ask, interrupting the two of them.

"I can't believe you didn't tell her," says Duny. She looks at Carlos, surprised, and then turns to me. "The first time we came here..."

"My first time; she had been here hundreds of times," Carlos comments, smiling.

"But it was my first time with you too," Duny retorts, lightly tapping my husband's shoulder, while I feel the urge to unleash that force and slap her. "Anyway, Carl went to order our dishes..." they laugh as if it's very funny. "And then the carpaccio appetizers came, and he thought it was the main course..."

"So, I asked them to take the dish back because it wasn't what I ordered," Carlos adds, smiling. The only thing I can think of is that they complete each other's sentences.

"And then the waiter tried to explain to this guy," Duny looks at my husband admiringly, "that it was the appetizer, not the main course... and we went on like that for half an hour... until Carl finally understood," Duny finishes, laughing with my husband while everyone else at the table remains serious. I didn't find it the least bit funny; the only person who would find something like this funny is someone who's... who's in love... "Well, that's it. Just so you know, if you were here that day, you would have burst out laughing."

"Wow, a story worthy of a movie," I say, taking a sip of my water. "I'll never eat carpaccio again without remembering what happened to you guys."

"Dália," Carlos says seriously, "it's not that big of a deal."

"Are you sure?" I ask, looking at my husband.

"Are you sure?" Duny interrupts, "I know, right? He was busy analyzing the reports with Duny and didn't have time."

The people at the table laugh, thinking it's just a joke on my part, but my husband and I lock eyes, serious. He knows I'm hurt, especially because he omitted our family from the conversation.

"Lemon-crusted rock lobster sautéed with citrus crystals, solid Alvarinho wine jelly perfumed with vanilla, and false watermelon mayonnaise," announces the waiter, drawing our attention.

We enjoy the delicate flavors that emerge with each bite. Carlos continues talking with Duny, completely ignoring my question. I start chatting with Abílio and Ferdinando, who tell me a bit about their background. Both were born in Portugal but reside in Madrid, married, and with children. They travel every weekend to be with their families, even though the project is behind schedule.

"Family first," Abílio says, smiling. Then he looks at me and asks, "Do you have children?"

"Yes, we do," I reply, looking at Carlos. Great, he didn't mention Juan to them. "A boy named Juan."

"Beautiful name," Ferdinando says. "When we're in Spain, we should plan a lunch to bring our families together."

"That would be great. I'll be inaugurating the MAMA AFRICA Foundation soon, and you are more than welcome to join."

"That's wonderful," Abílio says, then looks at my husband and says loudly, "Carlos, why didn't you tell us you have a son, and your wife has a foundation?"

"Yeah, Carlos, why didn't you tell them?" I question. Then I smile and reply, "I know, you were busy analyzing reports with Duny, and you didn't have time."

The people at the table laugh, thinking it's just a joke, but my husband and I stare at each other, serious. He knows I'm hurt, especially because he omitted our family.

"Vacuum-cooked sea bass with sea water and samphire, cream of Jerusalem artichokes, and pleurotus mushrooms," announces the waiter. Carlos starts talking with the others at the table about the local game, while I try to enjoy the dish and hold back my tears.

"Deboned suckling pig with new potatoes confit in vanilla oil and accompanied by a nectarine puree," the waiter continues.

I savor very little of this dish, while Duny, on the other side of the table, delights everyone with some stories from her youth. Carlos looks at me a few times, but he doesn't linger and returns his attention to the blonde. I observe my husband at ease at that table... this is his world... but I don't know if I belong in it.

"Pastel de nata over a coffee cream with caramel ice cream and hints of cinnamon," the waiter announces about the dessert. Then he leans his cart and continues, "Mango and papaya curd with its crisp, yogurt ice cream on pistachio crumble and lemon scent. Bouquet of fruits - strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, apples, and figs - leaves and flowers on papaya and medlar cream. Chocolate textures with pear from Oeste, walnuts, and caramel. Granny Smith apple, almonds, and vanilla in harmony. Tiramisu with chocolate, raspberry, and coffee ice cream."

"Bouquet of fruits," I request, looking at my husband. If I know him, he'll undoubtedly order the same as me.

"Mango and papaya curd," my husband surprises me. He doesn't even look at me to give an explanation.

"Chocolate textures," Duny orders. At least I know my husband won't eat this dessert; he's allergic to chocolate and can only have it if it's at least 80% cocoa. She savors her dessert as if having an orgasm, then serves a spoonful to my husband, saying, "You have to try this; it's like it was made by the gods."

"No," I say, interrupting, "he's allergic to chocolate. Carlos, did you forget?"

"Dália," Carlos starts, serious.

"Dália, dear," Duny interrupts Carlos. "Don't worry; I know he's allergic. That's why I ordered this dessert so that he can enjoy the pleasure of chocolate without any reaction, or better yet, he'll have almost an orgasm with this texture," she finishes, looking at me as if I were a child.

I take out my phone to check for the next direct flight to Barcelona, but I only find one with a connection in Madrid. Carlos opens his mouth, receiving a spoonful of Duny's dessert. Then he closes his eyes, savoring the taste, and Duny smiles contentedly.

"Isn't it delicious?" Duny comments.

"I almost had the best orgasm of my life," Carlos jokes. He turns to me and says, "You must try this."

"It's good to know you're aware of Carlos's issues," I say, drawing everyone's attention. "Why don't you give him a ride since I have a flight back to our home, or rather, my home, in fifty minutes? Nice meeting you all; have a great night."
I stand up from the table under the surprised gazes of everyone. That dinner has given everything it had to give. I walk to the elevator, ignoring my husband's call. I step into the elevator and find Carlos standing behind me, looking at me in shock.

"Are you coming in, or are you staying?" I ask.

"Dália, it's not that simple," Carlos says, holding the elevator door.

"Actually, it's quite simple. Either you come in and leave with me, or you stay and finish Duny's dessert and whatever else you want from her. Either way, I'm going home, where my son is anxiously waiting for his mother, and... also for his father. Life is pretty simple, Carlos; we're the ones who complicate everything. So, what will it be? Are you coming in, or are you staying?"

"What's your problem?" Carlos asks. "I have nothing with Duny..."

"Not yet, you don't have anything with her yet," I correct, serious. "But it won't be long before that happens, Carlos. And I don't want to be here to see it."

"You're exaggerating... as always," Carlos retorts, getting nervous.

"I'll ask you one more time... Are you coming in, or are you staying?"

We stare at each other for a while, there we were, fighting a battle that affects our marriage. If he comes in, my trip had a purpose; if he stays, then I know my marriage is hanging by a thread. Carlos takes his hands off the elevator door and steps back, leaving the elevator to close its doors with me... alone inside. The last image I see is Carlos running his hand over his face. Then I press the button to descend the 26 floors of the hotel... alone... completely alone. I can't cry because I only feel emptiness... as if everything is too surreal to believe.

I step out of the elevator and walk towards the hotel's entrance, I take the first taxi at the entrance and sit, breathing deeply with my eyes closed until I reach Carlos's apartment. There, I quickly gather my belongings and leave without looking back. As soon as I arrive at the airport, I'm directed to my plane, where I can finally stop and think about everything.

What did I come to do in Lisbon? I came because of what I knew, and as far as I knew, Carlos loved me... not just liked me, but loved me. And what I found was another Carlos... not the one I went through so much to marry... have children with... Perhaps I am also another Dália... The only thing I can't answer is: Is it worth continuing this marriage?