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It was at 17:55 exactly that the night-train ‘Trenhotel’ departed from Vigo Guixar station in the direction of Barcelona Sants. Ahead of it was a long, fourteen-hour journey, the majority of which would take place during the night, and as such it was no surprise that many of the passengers would aim to get a ticket for a sleeper. Only a few, the bravest souls, or those who would be getting off at an earlier stop, would travel in the seated area. These seats were distributed out in rows of two to the left of the central aisle and, on the right, a row of individual seats. Emma had deliberately chosen the ones on the left, so as to be seated as far from the platform as possible whilst the train was still in the station. Shortly after having sat down, the adjacent seat had also been filled, although she had hardly paid any attention at all to her new companion, as a result of the tension of the moment.
Once the train started to move, Emma leaned back softly in her seat and, now much more relaxed, she took notice of the young man travelling by her side. Impeccable shirt, hair styled with product, smooth features... and still rather young. Given the lack of passengers within the carriage, she suspected that perhaps her feminine condition could have had something to do with his decision; in sitting by her side and, now, in amicably offering his help:
“Excuse me, can I help you with your luggage?”
From Emma’s appearance, it was fairly evident that the luggage must have remained in the aisle because of its owner’s inability to lift it into the rack. Emma allowed him to do it.
“I’m Alberto. And you?” the young man continued with his advance.
Emma hesitated in her response.
“Elena, my name is Elena,” she said with a pleasant smile.
Better this way, she thought.
“And you’re travelling to Barcelona in a seat?”
“No, I’m only going to Ourense.” In any case, he would notice when she got off.
“No way, me too, what a coincidence. Do you live there?”
Emma decided to start lying again.
“No. I’m only going to spend a day with some family. Tomorrow, I’m going back to Vigo.”
The young man remembered the heavy suitcase that he had just lifted, and started to look serious. The kind of seriousness that shows on the face of one beginning to suspect that they are being tricked, in an uncalled-for way. But Emma was quick:
“You know how we women are. We plan on packing only the essentials, and by the end of it, you’ve got back-up clothes, back-up makeup, presents for the children... I’m aware of the fact that I’m not going to need half of the things I’ve brought with me, but...”
“You have children?” asked Alberto, cutting her short.
This time, it was Emma who became serious.
“No.”
In spite of the reaction that this question had just elicited, the lad decided to take another step forward in his advance:
“Well, you’re very attractive to not have any children. You must at least have a partner.”
Too many questions, too many forced replies, and it was a bad road that her young companion was going down. Emma decided that it was the time to put an end to her polite little exchange with this arrogant, aspiring Don Juan:
“If you don’t mind, I am going to rest for a while,” she said, with exquisite good manners, “I slept badly last night”.
Alberto did not press the conversation any further. He limited himself to watching as the woman closed her eyes, completely isolating herself from her surroundings.
Hardly an hour and a half later, the train slowed to stop at Ourense Empalme station, and the city lights could be seen through the window. Emma hurriedly got out of her seat before her fellow traveller could. With a serious expression on her face, she asked for his help in getting her luggage back down, and then made a beeline for the exit, so he could not follow her. After the conversation they had had, she did not want him to find that, of all those family members she was going to visit, not one of them had been bothered to come and wait for her at the station. She thought that might seem strange to him. Basically, she was trying to prevent the innocent young man from discovering that, in reality, she had arrived alone, would stay in the city alone, and when she left, in just one week, she would be leaving alone.
At the moment when the train stopped, Emma waited impatiently for the doors to open. Without wasting a second, she alighted onto the platform and crossed the small station without looking back.
Once on the street, she went to the nearest taxi, which was waiting in front of the building, and handed the driver a piece of paper.
“Could you take me to this address, please?”
The driver looked at the note with a certain level of disinterest, and started to drive towards the university area of the city, where numerous apartments of all types were occupied, during the winter months, by students. He stopped at the address.
Emma rang an old doorbell and waited, whilst the taxi drove away behind her. It was not long before a girl appeared. She was short in stature, had the face of one who had drunk a shameful amount of alcohol the previous night, and a more than evident nervousness. Perhaps finding another flatmate was of absolute necessity from an economic point of view. But, looking at the building, finding that flatmate was no easy task.
“There’s no intercom or lift, but I presume Marta’s already told you,” said the girl, just after she had opened the door.
“Yes, but I’m not bothered about that. I already told her on the phone that this was the type of flat I was looking for.”
“You’ve already decided you want to stay?”
“Yes. Definitely.”
“Then, to all intents and purposes, can I consider you our new flatmate?”
Emma nodded, as the two of them began to make their way up to the second floor via an old staircase that had clearly not been cleaned in a long time.
“So, what’s your name?” asked the girl, as she opened the door to the apartment.
“Elena. Elena Monteagudo,” said Emma. “Will there be any need for me to sign any contract?”
“No, no need. We already signed the contract at the beginning of the course. We just needed someone to help with paying for it. There are three of us in this flat: four, with you. We’re all students, and this week we’ll all be away on holiday. The others have already gone, and I am also leaving now, so until next Sunday, you’ll be all alone here. Are you a student too?”
“No, I’m starting work.”
The girl, who was walking to the end of the hall, turned around and looked incredulously at Emma.
“This place is an absolute dump,” she ended up saying. “It’s barely fit for human habitation. But it’s cheap, and as you can imagine, with us being students, any money we can save can only be a good thing. That’s why we were looking for another flatmate. But you; are you sure you want to live somewhere like this?”
“Yes, at least whilst I don’t have a better job. I still don’t know how much I’ll be earning.”
Faced with the resolve of her new flatmate, the girl decided not to press the point any further, and opened the old wooden door.
“This is your room,” she said, turning on the light, “and the bathroom is opposite. The kitchen is communal, and everyone buys and prepares their own food. You can let anyone in, and there are no neighbours to bother about, because the other flats are empty. That being said; make sure to close the main door, so that the beggars don’t come in to sleep.”
“Okay.”
“What I do need from you now is your part of the rent. I still have to go and pay the landlord for this month before I go.”
Emma took out one hundred euros and handed them to her now new flatmate, who immediately seemed to relax. It was the agreed price.
An hour later, Emma was alone in the old building with its yellowed, peeling walls in the entryway, and rent-free inhabitants.
After showering, she returned to her room and attended to her suitcase. She filled a chest of drawers with her clothes, and the rest of her belongings she distributed on top of a study table to the left of the bed. Next to them, she placed seven golf balls in a perfect line. Once she had done this, she then searched inside her handbag for seven cuttings of paper, and placed one in front of each ball. Finally, she took out an old photograph and put it behind everything else, resting it up against the wall. On it could be seen the image of an attractive, middle-aged man, sitting on some grass and with a baby in his arms. Emma got into bed and, from there, she carried on looking at him. It was a gorgeous baby, with very little hair, a round face, and an expression of innocence.
Aurora watched as the train pulled out of the station, with Emma inside it. She remained there for a good while, even when it had already disappeared over the horizon and there was nobody else left on the platform.
Finally, she crossed the station and set off back to her flat, walking slowly, in no rush, observing those streets that had always been a part of her life. She thought about how, at one time, she had been happy in that world, very happy. But the problem was that it had been all too short-lived. And to make it worse, she knew that those days would never be coming back.
When she found herself in front of the entrance to her building, she went up to her apartment like an automaton. Her home had the same aroma as always. She had left the television on, and everything seemed normal. Everything except for the fact that her only daughter had left and would never be coming back; just like everybody else who had been a part of her family.
She went into the bathroom and stood facing the mirror. The image reflected back was unbearable to her, pathetic. She saw in herself the humble woman who had once had everything she had ever needed to be happy, and who was now left with nothing. She deeply cursed God and destiny.
She sat down in the kitchen and filled a large glass with whisky. She then downed it immediately. She coughed a few times. She felt the burning heat of the alcohol in her throat and stomach. She filled the same glass with water and drank half of it. That reduced the burning. She then put the bottle away and retired to her bedroom, slowly, and carrying the glass of water.
There, she lay down on the bed, opened the top drawer of her bedside table, and proceeded to take every single one of the next three months’ worth of sleeping pills. She did not take them quickly, but in a slow and constant succession. When she finished, she drank the rest of the water, covered the top of the glass, and waited. As she waited, she remembered Manuel, her husband, Emma, Borja, and Salva too... he was such a good son-in-law. As her heart was now beating lazily, and sleep was beginning to gently rock her in its arms, she placed them all together, having dinner on some Christmas Eve, seated around a large dining table that had been lovingly prepared. Everybody was talking and laughing, joking amongst themselves, and drinking toasts as one big family. On Aurora’s lifeless face, a smile was visible. And she went to sleep for one last time.
The sweetest memory, the bitterest ending.