Sins of the Past

Jonnathan never ceased to be surprised by the magnificence of some hotels.

Two years of success and I was still able to stay gobsmacked in the lobby watching the high ceiling of the building, its cobblestone tiles, its leather sofas, its digital campfires, its golden lighting and that crowd of people coming and going in elegant suits and tight-fitting dresses. The smell of elegance in the air as if money had its own aroma.

It still surprises her to know that he was among those wealthy people who could afford to spend thousands of dollars on a hotel room with a beautiful balcony overlooking the city, a room bigger than an apartment, foam bathtubs and a TELEVISION the size of Vesuvius.

Standing at the entrance, with his suitcase in hand, at least looking around, he was simultaneously filled with pride and a damn impostor syndrome.

He had to continually remind himself that he deserved to be there.

I had sacrificed a lot (and a lot) to be there.

Jonnathan walked to the reception, gave his identity and I hope they told him what his room would be. Having finished the paperwork, a bellboy, as if he had been trained by ninjas, came out of nowhere, took his suitcases and left the employee elevator. Amused, Jonnathan watched him walk away. He took the key to his room and went to the elevator.

While waiting for him to come down, he passed his weight from one leg to the other. He was excited at the prospect of the new project he would embark on, although it was also scary. There was a nudity in his new project that he had avoided for a long time. I knew, unfortunately, that I would have to face a painful process of deconstruction. That he would have to face memories of a past that he would rather leave buried. That would open wounds already closed. Still, he was determined to keep going, even if he had to carve his flesh open.

To be honest, it's not that he loved working, but he loved what he did and that was precisely what gave him strength.

The elevator came, he got on and pressed his floor (the fourteenth). Before the doors closed, he heard a voice screaming.

"Stop the elevator, please!"

Jonnathan did it reflexively by obstructing the entrance with one arm.

Then he was speechless.

A woman came in who I recognized immediately.

"Thank you," she said with a slight smile and placed herself next to him.

He did not answer, he could not with a dry mouth as he had it.

He let the door close and settled his arms on his back like a military man.

Is that her? Think. Damn, it's her. It can't be.

Marie Mirey

How can I not recognize her?

She was a very successful actress.

She had started as a child acting in youth series until one that made her particularly famous in her teens. "The remote village," it was called. It was about her and a group of children solving mysteries in a village. A kind of Scooby Doo with real people. What seemed like a simple premise ended up with extremely interesting plots and a success that pointed Marie Mirey to stardom. After that she had starred in many films, and Jonnathan had seen several, but in his mind he kept remembering her for her role as Elle in that series. It was one of his favorites.

And now she was just like that, as if nothing.

It was not the first time he had met someone famous. He had had a couple of encounters with actors and the odd film director since his sudden success. They usually treated him with respect, but there was a barrier that separated them; they were of totally different scales. On those occasions Jonnathan had also become nervous and resorted to his only defense mechanism: to keep quiet like an idiot, speaking the minimum necessary.

He wasn't the most charismatic guy in the world.

But fuck! Now he was meeting Marie Mirey! And she was as beautiful as behind the screen. A little short, but not too much. Sixty-five meters or so. She would have been twenty, which is four years younger than he was. A short curly hair that reached the shoulders, of a light brown color. Big, brown, expressive eyes that always favored her in her performance. Smooth features and thin lips. A well-groomed figure evidenced by the suit she was wearing at the time: tight blue jeans, a handbag and a top that exposed a sensual abdomen.

Even so, there was something about her different from the typical actresses who exploit her sexuality. Marie possessed a certain childish charm, like a cloak of naivety that she managed to convey to the camera and which, as far as Jonnathan could tell now, was real.

The elevator kept going up and Jonnathan was struggling with himself.

Should I tell him something or not?

As a rule, he resisted the urge. She imagined that a famous person must be tired of being recognized on the street, of being stopped and asked for photos. He didn't want to be just another idiot in the world. Pear was hard not to be. What will it be about the famous people who push us to tell them that we recognize them? No idea the truth.

And what would I tell him?

The elevator was near her floor. She wasn't getting off yet. He soon would. He was running out of time.

He half opened his mouth when the elevator acted for him.

With a slight thud and a low light that lasted a few seconds, the elevator stopped.

He and Marie saw the faces.

"He stopped moving, didn't he?"she asked.

He didn't answer. He tried to press one of the buttons, but nothing happened. The hum of the engine was no longer felt. He pressed the alarm button, again without any reaction.

"I think there was a power outage or something," he finally said.

"And why is the light on?"

"I guess he must have a power generator or something, to make sure if anyone gets stuck it's not in the dark"

"So we're trapped..."

"That seems..."

Marie Mirey took her cell phone out of her bag. Jonnathan did the same by taking it out of his pocket. They both looked at their respective screens and then turned to look at each other.

"No sign," she said.

"Me the same" he replied showing her his phone and putting it away again.

"This doesn't give me a good spine," the actress said, putting her thumb to her mouth. Jonnathan thought he would bite his fingernail, but it just stuck with his finger outstretched, it was probably a bad trick he had left behind.

"Calm down, these lockdowns don't usually last too long. We'll be out in a jiffy"

"Do you think?"she replied, unconvinced. She was staring at the ceiling as if waiting for some savior to come out. "Excuse me, I don't want to look frantic."

"Don't worry... first time?".

"Yeah".

"Well, now you can say that you lost your virginity in an elevator."

She turned to look at him with raised eyebrows.

Jonnathan choked.

"I mean, not in an elevator, but with an elevator... that is, in a matter of elevators... You understand"

She broke into a smile. It seemed natural to him, but she was an actress, wasn't she? I sure knew how to fake them.

"Great" Marie replied and with a snort she sat down on the floor "I guess it's not worth standing there scared to death. Hopefully it won't take long for them to get us out. I imagine they know we're here."

"Well, there is electricity here, but we don't know if the power outage is maintained in the rest of the building..." Jonnathan commented, and seeing the girl's worried gesture, he tried something that seemed heroic in his head "HELLO! IS ANYONE LISTENING TO ME? WE'RE TRAPPED! HELLO!... What are you laughing at?"

As she turned around, Marie had an ill-concealed smile on her face.

"Sorry, but... I don't think that works too well."

"Why?".

"This elevator is big and probably soundproofed. If we add that the building has quite thick concrete walls, I don't think it will let the sound get very far."

Jonnathan felt like an idiot; he was beating his record for embarrassments by five minutes.

"Sorry if I was rude, I didn't mean to."

"No, calm down."

After that there was an awkward silence.

"Well," thought Jonnathan, "you wanted to talk to him and you talked to him, well done, now what?". He stared at the ceiling thinking about whether it was better to say something or stay quiet. Then he remembered that his mother told him that he thought about things too much and he proved her right. He began to think about it.

Minutes later he was struck by the sound of leaves tearing the air. He turned and saw Marie sitting, leaning against the wall, reading a book.

He had to try hard to suppress a smile.

He stood still, rejoicing inside, holding back laughter, until he could no longer.

"What do you think of that book?"he asked her.

She looked up, surprised.

"Ah, I quite like it."

"Is it good?".

"Yes, although it doesn't surprise me knowing whose it is."

She lowered her eyes, willing to read, and then raised them again, slightly irritated, when Jonnathan asked:

"Then do you like that author?"

"Yes, quite a lot. And you? Do you know him?"

"Sure," Jonnathan replied with a smile. "It's me."

Marie looked at him with wide-open eyes. He broke into a smile.

"You?"

"Yes"

As if to confirm it, she opened the back cover of the book where, in fact, her photo was.

"Jonnathan Montes, at your service"

Marie's face quickly changed from white to a flushed hue. Jonnathan thought it was the cutest thing in the world.

"God," she said, "I don't know how I didn't recognize you. I'm sorry, really."

Jonnathan shook his head.

"Most people don't know the faces of the authors they read. Don't worry."

"Yes, but... what a shame. Seriously."

Marie covered her face with her hands. He was smiling, but it was one of those smiles born of embarrassment. Jonnathan couldn't help but laugh too.

"Well, now that we know who I am, I can stop pretending I don't know who you are."

She looked at him, surprised.

Now it was her turn to blush.

"You see, I've seen you in your movies, in your series and all that, and... I didn't know whether to say something to you, ask for an autograph or whatever. I didn't want to disturb."

Marie let out a laugh.

"I don't mind being asked for autographs."

"That's what all the famous people say!"replied Jonnathan "But I'm sure it can be a nuisance from time to time."

"Well, yes," he agreed, "but only when they become abusers."

"Aha! I knew it!"

She laughed again.

"Then I was here, reading your book, and you were standing there..."

"Thinking how the fuck to get you out of here, yeah."

"You're shy."

"Just a little bit."

"Aha, just a little bit."

Both remained silent. Marie looked at the book in her hands again, shook her head, outlined a smile and muttered something that sounded like "What a shame"

"But if you like the novel?"he asked.

"I love it!"she jumped" I love how you handle the mystery. At first it seems that everything will be a drama about the death of a friend, of Hernán, but then there are a couple of strange clues, and when you think you already know where everything is going, the plot turns the other way".

"Which way are you going?"

"Ryan is on his way to talk to the Kairos for the first time."

"Ah... you'll love the end of that chapter"

"Don't tell me! I hate spoilers."

"Ok, OK, I won't say anything. But here's a deal for you. I'll sign your book if you sign something for me."

Marie stood up and held out the novel to him.

"Sounds good to me"

Jonnathan pulled a pen out of his jacket.

"I see," commented Marie with a mischievous smile, "that Mr. writer is always equipped to give autographs."

The reaction was instantaneous. Jonnathan turned red in seconds.

"No, I... I used it to sign at the hotel, nothing more. In my suitcase I keep a booklet where I write down ideas that come to mind"

"I was joking. Relax, Mr. writer"

Jonnathan signed the book for him.

"Okay, thank you very much," Marie said, receiving him back, "and what do I sign for you?"

"Ah, well... mmm..."

Jonnathan checked his pockets. I didn't have anything on me.

"And the notebook? Marie asked.

"It's in my suitcase, damn it..."

Marie was amused to see how Jonnathan checked all his pockets like someone who has lost his phone.

"It can't be right now... I always charge something"

"I'll sign your forehead," she said.

Jonnathan looked at her in dismay.

"In fact... I'd rather you didn't."

Marie burst out laughing.

"You put me in a predicament, Mr. writer. I don't like being in debt, and I'd be owing him a signature."

"Yeah, well, I'm not always ready to have something that the superstars I meet around can sign for me"

"But if a pen to be the one who gives the autograph."

Jonnathan rolled his eyes, but still smiled.

"I guess you'll keep owing me"

Marie shrugged her shoulders.

At that moment the elevator resumed its march with a slight movement. They both felt the vibration of the engine under their feet.

"Which floor are you going to?" Jonnathan asked.

"On the fourteenth," he replied, Marie. Jonnathan watched her, surprised. "What's the matter?"

"I'm going to the fourteenth, too."

They were silent. The elevator reached its destination and both got off at the same time. They walked shoulder to shoulder down a long corridor carpeted with cream-colored walls and golden lights whose flashes were reflected on the ceiling.

They walked without saying a word until they stopped at the same time, each in front of a door.

"This is my room," Jonnathan said.

"And this is mine," Marie replied.

Both rooms were exactly in front of each other.

Chance caught them off guard and made them laugh. In another context it would have been almost uncomfortable, but for them, laughing together felt strangely natural.

"Well, Mr. writer," Marie said, looking hesitant. "It's been a pleasure meeting you."

"Yes..." he replied, "I say the same."

Marie gave him one last smile and put her hand on the doorknob.

An impulse hit Jonnathan, forcing him to say something.

"Hear you..."

Marie turned.

"Are you hungry?"

"Hungry? Therefore..."

"I say this because I was planning to go down to the hotel restaurant for dinner, I don't know if you want to come..."

Marie looked at him thoughtfully. It became impossible for Jonnathan to guess what was crossing his mind, which is why he spoke even more desperately.

"No, well, I guess you'll be tired, or you'll have your things to do, all right. It was a silly suggestion. I am a stranger and..."

"Okay," she replied suddenly, "Let me take a bath, get settled in a little and I'll see you at the restaurant in an hour, do you think? So I can pay you that autograph I owe you."

Jonnathan's face lit up, although he did his best not to be noticed.

"Perfect. I'll see you in an hour then."

They said goodbye and each entered his room.

Jonnathan's room was huge, the size of an apartment. The main room had two sofas arranged in front of a forty-inch TV. To one side were the dining room and the kitchen. A white wall separated them from the room.

Their suitcases were already there, which meant that the employees' elevator had not broken down.

Normally he was a person who was dying to get to his house, his room or any place that served as a refuge or rest, but he had not been bothered at all by that little failure of the elevator. In fact, he felt strange with everything that had happened with Marie.

"Come on," he said to himself, "there's nothing extraordinary about it. Two people get stuck in an elevator and chat for a while. Then, since they like each other and since they have nothing better to do, they decide to have dinner together. It's a normal thing""

He could not convince himself at all, mostly because of a curious sensation that danced in the air. Kind of... no, I didn't know how to label it. It was like when you throw something and it falls right where it should fall. A tetris or something. A click or something similar...

But what the hell was he talking about? And why had he invited her to dinner? It was not like him, he preferred to eat alone and quiet. I also didn't used to be impulsive. But again that... "something", had pushed him. That click.

More than his own reaction, he had been surprised that she accepted. Maybe she was bored and wanted to distract herself for a while. Maybe he really wanted to return her autograph. Whatever the reason, he should not give it more importance or make the wrong ideas. I hated those men for whom a simple kind gesture seems to them an invitation to fuck. I knew that was offensive and demeaning to women. He didn't want to be like that. Marie probably just wanted to be nice and that was fine.

Jonnathan settled into his bed and closed his eyes for a few minutes, resting. Then she stood up, undressed and went to the toilet.

Before getting into the shower, he confirmed a question that had been going around in his head.

She looked in her phone's browser and yes, indeed, Marie Mirey had a boyfriend.

He was already at the restaurant when she arrived. He saw her enter and, against his own will, whistled below.

Like him, Marie is not that she had dressed in an ultra-neat way. She was wearing jeans that fit very well to the shape of her legs and a white blouse with bare shoulders. Loose hair at the neck. Little makeup and no other accessories beyond a few small tendrils that shone with the reflection of the lights.

Despite her simplicity (or maybe thanks to her), she looked beautiful, walking naturally and smiling at him when she placed him at her table and went to him.

Jonnathan had the impulse to stand up and arrange the chair for him to sit down, but it became exaggerated. Instead, he returned the greeting with his hand and waited for her in his seat, trying not to wander his gaze under the figure that was glimpsed thanks to a slight transparency of the blouse.

"Hello, have you been waiting a long time?"she asked as she sat down.

"No, I just got here."

"Perfect".

The waiter came instantly, as if Marie's very presence had summoned him. Jonnathan did not miss the detail that he had been waiting for a while without them coming to attend him.

Everyone ordered their dinner and the worker left as soon as he had arrived.

"Well, I think we have to sort out our business first," Marie said clasping both hands under her chin.

"It's true," Jonnathan nodded. "there's a debt that needs to be paid off."

He was wearing a blue shirt under a jacket from where he took out a notebook and a pen.

"I think, Miss, you owe me an autograph."

"Very true, gentleman," replied Marie-"and I am about to settle it. I am a woman of my word."

"I am honored and glad for your commitment."

They both laughed.

"Where do I sign? Marie asked.

"On the first sheet."

Marie opened the notebook and found the words "Ravings" next to a pile of scribbles.

He looked at Jonnathan interrogatively. He shrugged his shoulders.

"The title is because I consider that almost all my ideas are incoherent until I give them form. And the doodles... Those are from when I get bored."

Marie signed and stared at the notebook.

"So here are all the ideas of the great writer Jonnathan Montes."

"No, not all of them. Have you ever heard that phrase from Einstein in which he says that if you have a great idea it is never forgotten?"

"Yes".

"Well, the phrase is false, but it has some reason. When I have a good idea I don't forget, even if years pass. The ones that are there are only the ones I remember writing down, just in case, but most of them" he pointed to his head "are here".

"I understand... Can I?",

"Forward".

Marie opened the notebook. It was really full of more or less loose sentences.

Woman with shop and mannequins.

Gamer boy.

House controlled by a deity.

Control of a man's life (Behaviorism)

Bank

Trichotomy.

"Hey! The latter..."

"Yes, it's the title of one of my novels. Did you read it?"

"Why, of course! I loved it. Three women. A designer, a medical student and a prostitute. One of them goes crazy and starts murdering people. The others are drawn into the conflict for different reasons and all are surrounded by failure in their lives."

"That's the synopsis on the back cover!"

"I told you I like your novels"

"You learn the synopsis, but it never occurred to you to look at the photo. Is that how ugly I am?"

"Maybe," Marie replied in a mocking tone and handed the notebook back to him, "At least you can see that I wasn't joking about being a follower. On the other hand, you are surely one of those who claim to be a fan just to flatter. I've found that a lot of people say they love my work and haven't seen a single series or movie."

"Please, who hasn't seen the Villa Away? It's a classic"

"Thank you, thank you, that was good for my ego"

They brought them dinner.

They brought Jonnathan his corn fajitas with guacamoles, vegetables and tofu, while Marie ate... Jonnathan had no idea what that was. They looked like a bunch of branches, vegetables and a lot a lot of green. He saw it with a certain curiosity and perhaps a little surprised, and it must have been noticed, because Marie was watching him.

"It's romaine lettuce rolls," he explained.

"Ah..." replied Jonnathan "And that fills you up?"

Marie returned him a serious look.

"Yeah," he said, then looked down at his plate. "No, I don't get full, but you know..."

"Yes, I know," replied Jonnathan, "Do they sell pizzas here?"

"Yes, of course."

"I'll order one and we'll eat it between the two of us."

"No no, I'm fine with this already."

"My little cousin ate more than that when he was a year old. Come on, let's have some real food. Now that I see these fajitas I know I will be hungry. Where I live if they really filled them in."

"And what do I do with the salad?"

"Give it to a rabbit."

They ordered the pizza and ate with pleasure. Marie, at first, did it with a certain guilt, but after a while it was removed and she really tasted the food. Jonnathan thought he understood why she ate the way she did, and he was glad to see her enjoying herself. Sometimes there are prices that should not be paid.

"And what brings you to the city? Marie asked after eating a big piece of pizza.

"My new project. A work that I qualify as Musical Poetry. It's something..."

"I know which one it is. I couldn't get tickets. In which you read the poems of your new poetry collection, right?"

"Something like that, I don't want it to be a reading, but something else. I want to mix theater and poetry in a different way. But I don't want to talk about it too much. It will be something new. Single. You'll see. And you? Do you live here?"

"If I lived in the city would I be in a hotel?"Marie asked with a slight smile.

Jonnathan ran his hand over his face, smiling too.

"Excuse me, Miss know-it-all."

Marie let out a laugh.

"I came to film the new season of The Remote Village."

"So it's true that there will be a new season!?"jumped Jonnathan hitting the table. Several people turned to see them. Jonnathan settled back in his seat pretending not to notice.

Marie covered her mouth with her hand, hiding a laugh.

"OK, I wasn't supposed to say that... least of all if you were going to jump like that."

"Sorry, sorry."

They both barely concealed their laughter, like two children hiding a mischief.

"Are you happy to be working on the series again?"

"Yeah, well, I didn't like the offers that were coming my way, so..."

Marie shrugged her shoulders looking away and Jonnathan perceived something strange, as if for a few seconds his countenance had blackened, as if the temperature had dropped a few degrees. He knew, instantly, that something was wrong, but he didn't think he was the right one to say something.

After that the conversation turned to other topics. They talked about their careers, how Jonnathan still wasn't used to being successful, how he got excited when a reader recognized him, although that didn't happen regularly, how he got nervous before interviews.

Marie, more accustomed to fame, saw a certain tenderness in Jonnathan's simplicity and in his efforts to be a normal person. For her part, she was less successful, because she was easily recognized and from time to time a fan came to harassment.

Little by little they moved away from those topics they had in common and came to others. They talked about their favorite movies. Jonnathan loved mystery, Marie loved horror, two different genres but very connected. They talked about the music, about their favorite singers. From other writers and other actors. They talked, simply, about their lives.

The conversation was flowing with an unearthly naturalness, like two people who have known each other for years and are just catching up. Every now and then one of us would tell a joke and the other would laugh. They attracted the attention of other diners, because when a conversation is unique it becomes magnetic. They looked happy talking, exchanging jokes, opinions, without losing at any time the smile on their lips or the shine in their eyes.

They ran out of food and continued to talk. The restaurant started to get empty and they kept chatting. They were away from the world, as if the table where they were was taking them away from everything except themselves. The night passed and they continued to talk.

Neither of them noticed that there was a paparazzi taking pictures of them.

Neither of us knew the chain of problems that those photos would unleash.