Chapter 4 I'm sleeping on the couch

Mrs. Fernanda was about to arrive. I got up agitated. I had to erase all the signs that Sebastián had slept in the studio again-if she found out, she'd soon tell everyone, and it would cause a scandal in the family.

"Damn!" he left his clothes on the floor, shoes in the middle. I bent down to pick up the mess and formed a ball in my arms. I ran downstairs to the laundry room, where I threw the clothes in the hamper. "It doesn't cost you anything to cooperate with me. I reminded you last night. Why can't I get you to listen to me? If I speak to you with love?"

I was talking to myself like crazy. I opened the fridge and drank some water. The anxiety was killing me. I don't know why I had to live my life as if there was a lion running after me.

Then I took a deep breath.

"Ice cream, that would definitely improve my day," I spoke to the food in the refrigerator, looking for something to add to my strawberry ice cream. I didn't feel like it at all, so I closed the door. "A banana, yes!" I sliced ​​it thinly and sat down to savor it: the first spoonful of ice cream mixed with a piece of fruit made my day.

The cup traveled with me throughout the house; while I ate, I put things away. Although it sounded contradictory, strangers noticed any blunder, especially if it was someone who had worked with me for years. I even hid the book on duty: a self-help book about relationships. Happy people didn't read those books! And I was supposed to be happy.

When I finished my obsession, I arrived in the kitchen, wide awake to make coffee; my husband had already left for the gym an hour earlier. I was so excited that she was taking the time to do what she loved: those days she was in a better mood and even smiled at me.

"You're so cheerful this morning, Señora Valentina," Fernanda commented behind me, in a mischievous tone. "What are you thinking, smiling like a naughty girl?"

I put my hand to my mouth and smiled with my whole face as I looked into her eyes.

"Hello, Señora Fernanda. I didn't notice you come in-you really were in a very good mood that morning. What are you telling me?"

"Yesterday I was at your mom's house," she began gossiping in such an intimate tone of voice that I dropped everything and sat with her at the counter. "I'm telling you, everything's changed in the kitchen." The pauses she made between sentences left me intrigued. I don't know what happened to her, because I couldn't find anything. "How was that woman happier than me?" I thought, feigning attention. "She has no idea how much time I wasted opening drawers and cabinets just so I could sit down and have breakfast in peace, the way I like it."

Laughter spread through the house. "She was fat and ate a lot; her appetite was the butt of jokes among everyone."

"That's strange! She rarely did that. I'm sure she threw out a lot of stuff, maybe she was running out of space."

"Oh my! No space? That kitchen is bigger than my house, ma'am." Fernanda's simplicity brightened our lives. "What she did get right was that she brought out all the good stuff she had stored away, and I came out on top. I took some things home. She gave them to me, and my family was happy when I called them to wait for me at the bus stop; I was carrying a lot of weight."

Fernanda's bad thing was her tongue; she didn't hold anything back. She came to my house on Tuesdays and Thursdays. She only did the deep cleaning, and the rest of the week, I was in charge of keeping things tidy.

"Okay, let me start making breakfast. I'm hungry. What would you like?"

"If I tell you what I ate when I got up, you'll scold me: strawberry ice cream with bananas. I was craving it."

She looked me up and down as if she were imagining something else.

"Don't tell me you're pregnant."

"It's not that, it's that ice cream makes me happy. That's why I don't buy it, because then I won't leave the fridge until I've eaten it all."

"Put it like that, I'm going to cook for myself, since you got there first," she said, tossing her hair to still.

"Yeah, eat whatever you want, you're staying at home. I'm going to change and leave for the hospital. Sebastián will be here in a bit; he already went to the gym." Make him some arepas with meat, it'll fill him up.

Mrs. Fernanda stared at me until she saw me come up the stairs. I felt relieved to have her; talking to her was cathartic and stressful at the same time. Because she looked at me as if she could read my thoughts: it put me on alert.

I took a bath, thinking about Sebastián; he was so handsome. How happy I would be if he decided to cooperate and we got along. Reality hit me with an unexpected harshness: I always believed that love was built and that with patience I would make him mine. Now I see that it wasn't as easy as I imagined.

***

He promised to marry me and married someone else, Camila thought. When Sebastián came looking for me after the wedding, he cried like a child. He told me he'd been forced, that he never wanted to be with her, that one day he would separate from Valentina: "Wait for me, Camila," he asked. And I, against all logic, agreed. Despite my disappointment, I wanted to play one last card.

We continued seeing each other secretly after his wedding, but almost a year had passed since that request. Between shifts and hospital shifts, we fell in love and promised each other so many things. Impatience was taking over, and I began to pressure him, making scenes to make him feel uncomfortable. My goal was for him to divorce me and marry me.

We were made for each other; I could see it in the eyes of those who looked at us: while we kissed, walking along the beach; in a mall; or during a meal. People could see that we loved each other; we were happy. The happy days faded away, the days when we had fun together were behind us, and I sensed he was distant. But since I had nothing concrete, barely a feeling, I started to argue when he left.

In the middle of a conversation, he stopped for no reason, breaking all harmony. Immediately afterward, a prolonged silence followed before saying goodbye.

I told him I didn't want him to leave, that he should stay with me a little longer, that he was leaving very early. I spoke softly to persuade him. I remembered his words: "I have to go, we already agreed. Give me time." I cried, watching him leave; it couldn't be any other way.

"Time? Do you know what it's like to be here alone while I imagine you're with that woman?" I replied.

He hugged me. I let go.

"I'm not sleeping with her; I'm in another room."

"It's not enough for me."

"Get a divorce."

"I will." I told you yes, I'm getting a divorce. I've done my part with my family. I don't want to live with her either. Instead, I'm doing everything I can to make sure Valentina separates so I can wash my hands of the problem.

"And the money? How are you going to pay it back?"

"That's the point: the honorable thing is to give them everything back, down to the last cent."

"If I had the money, I'd give it to you; but I think if I sell my only possession, my car, it won't be enough." I meant it; getting rid of my car was the greatest demonstration of love I could give him.

"You're crazy! How much can they give you for that dinosaur?" he responded mockingly.

"Don't look down on me!" I yelled and went after him to hit him, because of what he said. "You're an idiot, boastful; you don't have any money either, your parents are broke, you're nothing more than a..."

I fell silent; I didn't want to hurt him more than necessary. "You see how you get, you don't take a joke."

"Fuck off, go with your millionaire wife; that's why you married her anyway, you're her puppet."

The slammed door was the response I got; I would have preferred any insult.

I looked out the window and saw him walk quickly toward his sports car, the same one they'd put outside the house after the wedding.

"I hate you!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, but I didn't know if he heard me. Only the sound of tires against the pavement sealed that night.

I was so angry that he came here and left like it was nothing, like I was his whore, with no commitment, just this ring he gave me and that I swore to... I angrily took off the ring and threw it in the drawer.

Hours passed and I was still electric, pacing, trying to calm down, to calm down. I wanted to go out and at the same time I didn't. Ideas came to my head in a jumble, none of them good. I felt like sticking my head in the trash can to see if they'd finally get out and let me go to sleep.

I looked at the time again and figured I must already be at her house with her.

Just thinking about her saintly face, the ideal wife, disgusted me. She shone at every event, taking his arm sweetly, looking at him with devotion. At doctors' meetings, she was the attentive wife, the one who laughed at just the right moment, the one who listened without interrupting. Isabel adored her. And I hated her. Especially when Sebastián defended her: she's a good woman, she's like a daughter to my mother, he said it often. Valentina reminded him of his mother; it had to be that he connected with her from the perspective of family, of women, of home.

"I'm dying of rage, but you're going to cry, Valentina, because I'm not going to leave him. You're going to have to put up with it," I shouted, sticking half of my body out the window.