Paris
“We can go to Madrid,” said Catalina, looking intently at Fernando, checking his reaction.
It was a Sunday, and they had gone for breakfast to a place close to the Louvre, in order to go into the Museum afterwards and see an exhibition. Fernando had been behaving oddly during the past few days.
She knew him well enough to know that there was something in his mind that he was not sharing with her. She imagined it was probably connected with Sara, perhaps she was ill. She decided to insist on traveling to Madrid.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?”
He looked in her direction with renewed interest. They had been discussing the same thing for days.
“Not yet, we need to wait and see if it is true that they’re going to pass the Amnesty Law. I’m sure you’ve heard on the radio that they’re still negotiating it.”
“They’ll pass it.”
“We’ll see.”
“We should let our mothers know that we are considering coming back. We can’t just turn up without letting them know.”
“Why don’t you go first? If they pass the Law, I’ll come afterwards.”
“We’ve already talked about this, and you know that I won’t leave Paris without you. You’re still afraid.”
“Of course I am. I wouldn’t like to be arrested at the border. Imagine the irony, to end up in jail while all those who took up arms against our country and choked it for all these years are now becoming respectable people.”
“No one will put you in jail, Fernando. In all these years, no one has come looking for you, or has demanded that you be arrested and sent back to Spain. In Alexandria, we went to the consulate to renew our passports, and no one asked us anything. We’ve renewed them in Paris too. If there was some kind of warrant out for you, they would’ve tried to keep you there, and me as well. After all, I am your accomplice. I gave you my uncle’s weapon. You need to let go of what you did.”
“Let go? You know that’s impossible, that I have never forgotten those two men.”
“Do you regret what you did?” asked Catalina, lowering her eyes to give him a chance to form his answer.
“No, I don’t. And that is even worse than what I did.”
“If you don’t regret it, don’t think any more about it. I don’t regret having given you the gun, either.”
“But you didn’t pull the trigger.”
“Who cares? It doesn’t matter either way. I gave you a gun to kill because I agreed with your actions. That makes me your accomplice,” insisted Catalina.
“I would prefer not to be worried, but I am.”
“We ought to risk it, Fernando, we need to go back. Our mothers are too old now, and if they die without us having given them one last kiss, we will regret it for the rest of our lives.”
“Adela is in Madrid.”
“Is she now? And when did she tell you?”
“A few days ago. She and Peter were having problems.”
“And she has found refuge with her grandmother.”
“Your mother and Adela are good friends now.”
“Tell me, Fernando, what’s the matter? And please don’t say it’s nothing. You are sad, I know. I know that something is the matter.”
Fernando simply kissed the back of her hand.
“Finish the croissant and let’s go into the Louvre,” was all he said.