THE PAIN WORSENED the moment she stepped out. She didn’t want Vargas to see her like that. She didn’t want anyone to see her like that. The looming episode was going to be a bad one. That damned Madrid cold. The midday dose had only bought her a bit of time. She tried to manage the first stabs in the hip by breathing slowly and went on walking, taking each step carefully. She hadn’t even reached Plaza de Cibeles when she had to stop and hold on to a lamppost while a spasm clenched her, like an electric current eating away at her bones. She could feel people walking by, staring surreptitiously.
“Are you all right, miss?”
She nodded without even looking up. When she recovered her breath, she stopped a taxi and asked to be taken to the Hispania. The driver looked at her rather nervously, but didn’t say anything. It was getting dark, and the lights on Gran Vía were already sweeping up all and sundry in the grey tide of those who were leaving their cavernous offices to go home and those who had nowhere to go. Alicia pressed her face against the window and closed her eyes.
When she reached the Hispania, she asked the taxi driver to help her out. She gave him a good tip and made her way to the entrance hall, holding on to the walls. As soon as he saw her come in, Maura, the receptionist, jumped up and ran to her side, looking worried. He put his arm around her waist and helped her reach the lift.
“Again?” he asked.
“It will soon pass. It’s this weather . . .”
“You don’t look at all well. Shall I call the doctor?”
“There’s no need. Upstairs I’ve got the medicine I need.”
Maura nodded rather hesitantly.
Alicia patted his arm. “You’re a good friend, Maura. I’ll miss you.”
“Are you going somewhere?”
Alicia smiled and stepped into the lift as she waved goodnight.
“By the way, I think you have company,” Maura said as the doors were closing.
She limped down the long dark corridor to her room, clinging to the wall, passing dozens of closed doors that sealed off empty rooms. On nights like this, Alicia suspected she must be the only living occupant left on that floor, although she always felt that somebody was watching her. Sometimes, if she stopped in the dark, she could almost feel the breath of the permanent residents on the back of her neck, or the touch of fingers on her face. When she reached her room at the end of the passage, she paused for a moment, panting.
She opened the door, not bothering to turn on the light. The neon billboards of Gran Vía’s theatres projected a flickering beam that spread a dim Technicolor radiance over the room. The figure in the armchair had its back to the door, and a lighted cigarette in one hand, from which a spiral of smoke wove arabesques in the air.
“I thought you’d come to see me at the end of the afternoon,” said Leandro.
Alicia staggered over to the bed and collapsed on it, exhausted. Her mentor turned and sighed, shaking his head. “Shall I prepare it for you?”
“I don’t want anything.”
“Is this some form of atonement for your sins, or do you enjoy suffering unnecessarily?” Leandro stood up and approached the bed. “Let me have a look.”
He leaned over her and felt her hip with a clinical coldness. “When did you have your last jab?”
“At lunchtime. Ten milligrams.”
“That not enough, for starters. You know that.”
“Perhaps it was twenty.”
Leandro muttered to himself. He walked over to the bathroom and went straight to the cabinet. There he found a metal case and returned to Alicia’s side. He sat on the edge of the bed, opened the case, and started to prepare the injection. “I don’t like it when you do that, Alicia. You know it.”
“It’s my life.”
“When you punish yourself this way, it’s also my life. Turn over.”
Alicia closed her eyes and turned on her side. Leandro lifted her dress up to her waist. He unfastened her harness and took it off. Alicia was moaning with pain, squeezing her eyes shut and breathing with difficulty.
“This hurts me more than it hurts you,” said Leandro. He grabbed her thigh and held her down on the bed. Alicia was shaking when he plunged the needle into the wound on her hip. She let out a muffled cry, and her whole body tensed up like a steel cable for a few seconds. Leandro pulled the needle out slowly and left the syringe on the bed. Slowly, he lessened the pressure on her leg and turned her body around until she was lying face-up. He pulled down her dress and gently placed her head on the pillow. Alicia’s forehead was bathed in sweat. He pulled out a handkerchief and dried it for her.
She looked at him, glassy-eyed. “What time is it?” she murmured.
Leandro stroked her cheek.
“It’s early. Rest now.”