Epilogue Part 2

"God! I don’t know why I haven’t put her in a retirement home!" — Baby laughs as she walks around the apartment, inspecting every corner. — "It’s quite nice here, isn’t it?"
"You have no idea how lucky I was to find this apartment, well-located and with affordable rent." — I puff out my chest with pride, handing her a glass of wine and taking one for myself. — "I couldn’t believe it when the realtor brought me here. It’s pretty spacious, right?"
"Yeah, the realtor really picked a good spot for you." — She stifles a laugh, looking at me with an expression that makes me feel awkward. — "It was about time! I was so tired of knowing you didn’t have a fixed place. I was happy when you called me." — I shrug, laughing at her.
I was searching for myself, looking for it in every departure and arrival. Between cities and unknown countries and new languages, I tried to find it. When I walked into that airport on the day I fled my wedding, holding the tickets with no idea where I was going, only one thing crossed my mind: Pan! And that’s how I ended up in Naples. I covered the remaining fare to my destination and boarded, just me and my backpack. The Herculaneum sculpture is as shocking up close as it is in photos. But I didn’t view it judgmentally; it was as if I shared a secret with the half-man, half-goat god and his submissive goat, and knew I wouldn’t be returning to Columbia anytime soon. So, I called my father and told him I would be putting my apartment up for sale. Dad managed an extraordinary feat. My modest apartment, the size of a matchbox, sold for double the asking price three days after it was listed. The couple who visited were enchanted by the place. I wished them more luck in their relationship within that property than I had, and sought my happiness through the sale. Peru, Chile, New Mexico, India, Ibiza, and so on. My passport is stamped as much as it could be, and wherever I can go with my backpack, I will. I’m not looking for something specific, just wanting to have as many experiences as I can filter, living a new adventure every day until I’m ready for the next trip. But an old dream, which needs to be fulfilled, made me stay in Los Angeles.
"So, are you really going back to college?" — I shrug, bringing the wine to my lips, smiling happily.
"I’ve already enrolled. Classes start next month." — Baby smiles, stroking my hair, not losing her habit.
"Oh, I’m so proud! I’ve always wanted a sexologist friend." — She laughs even more, teasing me.
"Stop being sarcastic, Baby."
"Well, I’m happy for you. For coming back to pursue your dreams, even though I don’t understand why you chose Los Angeles." — Baby walks around, looking at the apartment and making me excited with her expression. — "But just having a place to find you already calms me down."
I told Baby three weeks later that I had settled my life in Los Angeles. Five days after the call, she sent me a message saying she was on her way to see me. I’m happy. I work during the day at a small metalworking company, handling the administrative side, and next month I’ll start evening classes at college, pursuing the true specialization I always wanted: sexology. Sometimes I go to a little bar at the end of the day with some colleagues I’ve made at work, without many bonds beyond a couple of drinks. Every Thursday, I call my parents. My mother is calmer now, and what my father managed to get refunded from the canceled wedding, he used to take her on a second honeymoon. When he came back, she accepted my decisions. Tom, the idiot, in the end, didn’t become the seven o’clock news anchor; he’s the weather guy in a beige suit on the morning news and married a coworker five months after I left him. They divorced two months after the wedding when his wife caught him having sex with the maid in their kitchen in the middle of the night.

For all this time, I’ve explored everything I wanted to know, freeing the little Ginger who looked at the globe with explorer’s dreams, but always feeling Jonathan's presence with me. The exorbitant amount deposited into my account by Roy was transferred to Baby’s account on the same day I saw the statement with the large digits. I miss him every second of my day, feel his absence just as my body and soul long for him, but over time I’ve learned to deal with these feelings, which are a part of my life. Like a drug addict in rehab, I allow myself to live one day at a time, though I have my slips, feeding only a bit on the information Baby gives me about him when I ask, unable to bear being away any longer.
“Does Aunt Charlote miss the mansion?” — I whisper shyly, looking at the wine glass and trying to hide my real interest.
“I didn’t tell you?” — Her voice sounds lost, looking at me.
“What?”
“The mansion doesn’t exist anymore.” — I fall silent, struck by the information. — “Jonathan had every corner of that place demolished.”
It’s strange, but something inside me breaks, making me think that Jonathan might have done that to push me away.
“You didn’t tell me... When did this happen?” — She raises an eyebrow, sipping her wine as if she’s deciding whether to tell me or not.
“Three months after you left,” — Baby says casually, as if she were just telling me the time. — “I think I forgot to tell you.” — The smirk on her face makes me sure she didn’t forget a damn thing. — “Jonathan stayed just long enough to see the walls fall. After that, he got in the car, crossed with the ferry, and disappeared into the world.”
“Roy left the island?” — I’m not sure how to process this information. It’s been so long; how could she have left this out?! — “Why didn’t you tell me, Baby?”
“Simple, you didn’t ask me.” — She returns to the table, grabbing the wine bottle and refilling her glass. I turn, looking at the balcony, getting lost in the bustling city night.
“I’m glad for him,” — I whisper, genuinely happy to know he managed to leave the true island that held him captive.
“He misses you, Gim.” — My eyes close, feeling my foolish heart crush inside me. — “He doesn’t say it, but I know, just by looking at him.”
“He’s in Venice too?” — My trembling fingers grip the wine glass. I open my eyes to the starry Los Angeles night with its skyscrapers.
“No, he didn’t want to stay. He only went there once and then vanished again.” — Her footsteps are slow, stopping beside me as she fills my glass. — “Nothing can erase what happened in that mansion... I know you don’t want to touch on certain subjects, Gim, but you need to know the truth, no lies or half-truths.”
“Freire told me about the recording, Baby.” — I down the wine in one gulp, remembering every word that woman said. — “It wasn’t the photo or the documents in the chalet. Freire made sure to tell me what my true end was for Jonathan.”
“That vile bitch!” — Baby lets out a breath. Then she drinks her wine and shakes her head. — “She had no right! It’s a good thing Roy kicked her far away from Sodoma after she brought the spies to the room where you and he were.”
I smile sadly at Baby, turning my gaze to the empty glass. Freire was truly a bitch, but she was the only one to tell me the truth.