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January 2013
Getting flights in the middle of the festive season was no easy task—it took almost a week for Priscila to reach her hometown.
The flight was a blur; she was barely aware of it. She leaned her head on the glass of the little window and before she knew it, she’d landed. She didn’t eat. She didn’t sleep. She didn’t rest.
During that week of waiting, Priscila had been able to find out what had happened: Alex had wanted to spend New Year’s Eve with his friends on the snow, in Formigal. He’d suffered an accident skiing off-piste, in an area not conditioned by machines.
She didn’t want to know the gory details; the fewer images projected into her head, the better. It hurt too much. Despite everything that had happened, imagining Alex going down at full speed and hitting half-hidden rocks hurt too much.
What surprised Priscila the most was that Alex had taken that kind of risk at all; he did love extreme sports, that was true, but he never practiced them. He couldn’t afford to get injured—because of his work, his swimming career, he was always very cautious. She couldn’t understand it—going high up into the mountains like that was anything but cautious. He’d been wearing a helmet, at least; it had probably saved his life.
She went straight from the plane to the hospital; she didn’t even call her family to tell them she’d arrived. And once again she’d traveled luggage-free, just a backpack with a change of clothes. In two days, she should be back in Boston, but it was official: she wasn’t making it to her first day at the newspaper. Her return ticket was in exactly two days, so even if she went straight from the airport to the office, she wouldn’t make it on time. She’d notified “the Global”—that was what Jaime called it—and explained the situation to her supervisor. They were okay with it; she was only supposed to miss a day or two. But the truth was, Priscila wasn’t sure if she’d be capable of going back.
She had so many feelings, all mixed together. Knowing that Alex’s life was in danger had given her fresh perspective; it had made her see she couldn’t live in a world without him. She needed Alex like she needed the air she breathed, and she could forgive him as long as death didn’t take him away. Life had just given them one more chance, so the possibility of not returning to Boston was real. She didn’t think she could leave her husband after what had happened. He was going to need her more than ever. She could let go of the rest.
She knew where to go, Adrián had told her, so when she got to the hospital she went straight up to the third floor, room 308.
When she arrived, the door was ajar. Her heart was already pounding; when she had to tell the man who got into the elevator before her which floor she was going to, her legs, her hands and even her voice were shaking.
There was no one in the hallway, and she didn’t care either way. Her Alex, her husband, was bedridden in that room and she had every right to be here.
Or so she thought.
But when she peeked into the room... When she peeked in the shock of what she saw took her back a few months. To that September afternoon in the garden of her old house. The situation was so similar it seemed like a dream, only instead of standing in an embrace her husband was lying on the bed. And the redhead was leaning down, wrapping him in her arms. Priscila couldn’t see their faces. The woman had her back turned, screening Alex’s face with her body.
Priscila backed away and leaned against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut and covering them with her hands. Thousands of contradictory emotions ran through her in that moment. She was happy Alex was alive, but she needed the image of those two together to go away.
“Excuse me, is there a problem?” She didn’t realize the voice was directed at her until someone touched her arm gently.
“What?” Priscila replied, still shocked.
And that’s when she saw her—recognized the person who was talking to her. They recognized each other, actually. The redhead’s younger sister, the nurse. This was a small town, everyone knew each other, if only by sight. It had advantages and disadvantages.
“Oh, it’s you. What are you doing here?” the woman in hospital scrubs asked in a dry tone.
“I came to see Alex. I didn’t know if...” She almost burst into childish tears right then at the thought that something might have happened to him. “How is he? Is he going to be okay?”
The redhead sighed and looked into the room, then closed the door and turned back to Priscila. “He’s doing okay, the worst is over. He’ll recover. He just needs time for everything to return to normal. And as you may have seen... he’s in good hands. You better leave.”
“No. I’m not going anywhere.” She shook her head confidently. “I have every right to see him and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“Are you really going to interrupt Alex’s rest—the rest he needs so much right now—for one of your whims?”
“I’m not going to interrupt anything; I just want to see him. I need to see him. Talk to him.”
“But he doesn’t want to see you. And given the situation, I don’t think it’s in the best interests of his health. Look, listen,” she grabbed her arm and led her a few yards down the hall. “Alex is struggling to get over what happened to him, and I don’t think—”
“I don’t want to harm him. I just want to take care of him.”
“Carolina is doing that already. He’s in good hands. If that’s what you’re worried about, you can go knowing he’s taken care of.”
“Are they together?” Priscila nodded toward the closed door. “Alex and... Carolina?”
A wave of rejection overwhelmed her as she said those two names in the same sentence. Rejection and pain.
The redhead considered her answer for a few seconds. Just for a few seconds. “Didn’t you just see them? Don’t do this.”
“I’m not doing anything. I’m just—”
