Almost (3): Almost, #3

By Adriana LS Swift

The danger from the past is more present than ever.

Marta feels abandoned by Ernest, which had to leave to Paris for her to live. Everybody tells Marta to forget him, but she doesn't stop trying to get in contact with him.

Marta and Ernest will face whatever they have to to be tegether, to fight what they have to fight, but the shadow of the famiy hatred is too wife, and the families of the two of them seem willing to do anything to not let things change

When you know that even your own family would be willing to finish you off, you notice that not all the time love is enough for anyone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Adriana LS Swift
• Release date: Mar 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781071594780

Book preview

Almost 3

Together

Adriana L.S. Swift

Translator: Yoneiker Neto

Pandora

©Adriana L.S. Swift, 2017

©Almost together (3), 2017

© Translator: Yoneiker Neto, 2021

©Pandora, 2017

Mail Box 4015, 24010, León (Spain)

www.pandora-magazine.com

[e-mail]

©Cover Edition: Pandora

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and events that occur are products of the author’s imagination or are used in fiction. Any likelihood with real people (Alive or dead), companies, events or places are purely coincidental.

The editor has no control over the author’s or third parties’ web sites or any of their contents nor does it assume any responsibility that can be carried by them.

Registered in Safe Creative.

Registry code: 1709263606859

Edited in Spain.

Total or partial reproduction of this book is not allowed; neither it is its inclusion in any informatics system nor it’s transmission in any way or by any medium whether it’s electronic, mechanic, by a photocopy, recorded or any other method without previous written permission from the editor. The infraction of the mentioned rights could be a crime against the intellectual property (Article 270 of the penal code).

To all the anonymous people

that struggle daily for their dreams

"I’ll stay and make you ever forget about any other place except this one"

Romeo to Juliet. Second Act, Scene II,

from Romeo and Juliet, by William Shakespeare

Prologue

––––––––

May, 1992

He had screwed up everything. Yes, Jordi knew perfectly well that what he had just done in Silvia’s house could bring consequences. Grave ones too. Carles might look for him to kill him or he might never see Silvia again.

He doesn’t like that. He needs to have her close and now that’s in danger because of him.

What to do to solve it?

Jordi goes out of the gate and leaves behind the scene he just starred. The first thing he thinks is that from today on he hates that damn Ernest that screwed everything up, like his father. Both Calçó fucked up his life. He had to be in his room. Why did he have to come out?

He screwed up everything. Everything!

She almost belonged to Jordi completely; finally, after so many years.

But that kid...

Jordi walks nervous, enraged through the streets in Barcelona. There’s not much distance from Sarrià to Pedralbes so, he decides to go walking to think about what to do from now on.

He can’t be with Silvia. That has been left clear to him, but his obsession about her doesn’t disappear because of that; instead it’s the opposite. What to do when you can’t stop thinking about someone ever since you have memory but that person doesn’t even want to see you anymore?

The logical thing to do would be to accept it and follow a different path than hers. But Jordi is not acting with any logic whatsoever. The only thing he has in his mind is getting Silvia. And, what’s stopping him from getting that?

First it was Carles, whom supposedly was his friend. And then it was that kid, Ernest. He made that marriage stronger and Jordi is not capable of breaking that, no matter how much he’s been trying it undercover in these two years. And he’s starting to lose his patience. What else does he have to do? He got close to them, giving them a fictitious support which he thought would work to earn some time. But they had to have that kid. He tried to get close to that kid but it was him who ended up ruining an opportunity that he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to have again.

He even found a graceless girl, the first one who got in his way, to make them see that he was remaking his life; that they had nothing to fear. His cook’s daughter was perfect. She was pretty, stupid, she had no personality and she was low class. She depended of him in everything economically related and that meant that he could do whatever he wanted with her because Mercè was the type of girl that hoped to get out from poverty and live like the lords that employed her mother for a meager salary.

Jordi had played the girlfriend act not only to make Carles and Silvia see that they could trust him, but also to make her jealous. Trying to enliven a fire that he didn’t accept it no longer existed. It pained him to notice that Silvia wasn’t jealous because of that. How could it be that even today she had gotten happy when he told her that he was going to get married? Jordi wasn’t happy whatsoever when he knew about Carles and her. Why can’t she feel the same he feels?

What to do now then?

The first thing he has to do is to ask for forgiveness. Beg for it, actually. It could be acting like he stumbled with her while he happily walks beside Mercè. Silvia is too kind and he’s sure that as soon as she sees that Jordi is happy with his new couple life she’ll let him get close again.

He’d also have to go see some doctor that explains him how to end the life of a two years old kid with some kind of drug. With Carles it’d be more complicated but with Ernest... He can secretly give him a Candy and no one will ever know what happened. He has to finish him up one way or the other. That will destroy both of them and Jordi will finally have more chances to be with Silvia. Carles was always a girl, so surely he’d end up killing himself because of that kid’s death. And Jordi will be there, ready to get into action and support Silvia at any time.

It’s a perfect plan.

And he has until Ernest’s birthday to get it done.

I

May, 2015

Marta

Today I finally get out of the hospital. It’s been two horrible weeks in which I didn’t have nor did I want to have the strength to even keep breathing. I asked every person that came to please tell me where Ernest was. None of the classmates that have visited me knew anything about him. Neither did the professors. I called him a thousand times; every single night. I’ve sent hundreds of messages to his phone and he hasn’t replied to any of them.

How to contact someone that seems to not want to be found?

Fran hasn’t gotten away from me. He brought new notes every day and helped me to not lose the rhythm of the classes. Iona, Judit and the others have come almost every day too; worrying about me, cheering me on and telling me how things were outside. Although none of them could answer the question of, where’s Ernest? They only came to visit; they stayed for a while and left again, leaving me alone with Fran again.

My father and my mother have also been here every day. It’s weird; they seemed really worried about me. They’ve told me that it’s better to forget everything that happened and to go back home with them to keep up with the life I had before all this turned into an authentic madness.

Suddenly, everything is like it was until a few months ago to everyone except for me. It’s like if Ernest hadn’t existed to none of them and they wanted me to forget about him as soon as possible; making me think that he was never there. They’ve told me all kind of things for me hate him. They’ve said that he preferred to keep up with his life, leaving me here without even saying goodbye. Fran says that he couldn’t keep up maintaining both of us and he called him so he took care of me because he was tired of it already. My friends don’t stop repeating that if he wasn’t here while I was interned it has to be enough for me to start to forget him. My parents haven’t even mentioned him. And I still know that all this happened for a reason, that he loves me and he wouldn’t leave me without a motive. I know that it has to do with my illness and I curse myself for having screwed up something that was also really worth it. The same thing always happens to me; I screw up everything. And I knew from the beginning that this would end up happening. I only want to talk with him; that he explains me why he’s not answering my calls or my messages; why he didn’t stay with me these days; why did he allowed that I have to go back with my parents and that Fran doesn’t get away from me. At the very least I deserve an explanation and he had to wait to give it to me.

You see? Like if you hadn’t been interned for two weeks.

Fran keeps trying to cheer me up. I know that he does it with the best intention but I don’t care at all about the fact of looking good before getting out of the hospital. I just want to see Ernest and that’s something that he doesn’t seem to understand.

Are my parents outside or...? I ask without even replying to his flattery.

They told me that they had to work but they asked me to take you home myself.

I frown while I pick up my dressing case.

You get along with them pretty well...

He smiles, flattered by my words which hadn’t been told for that whatsoever.

We like each other. They’re not as bad as I had been told they were.

Who told you that? I asked, turning towards him.

You know—

Ernest? What did he tell you? I ask anxiously, trying to gather more information although at plain sight it doesn’t seem to have anything to do with his disappearance.

Well... I don’t know. He seemed to not trust them. He replies, grabbing my dressing case and putting it in the bag that my parents brought days ago with my things. Though, I think that it was only because they didn’t like him.

Why do you say that Ernest didn’t trust them? I insist.

Fran shows a feign smile and caresses my recently combed hair. I sneakily walk away from him and go to the door.

We were told that they’d take you on a wheelchair until— Fran reminds me, mentioning the hospital’s incomprehensible protocol.

I can walk already. I reply. Why didn’t Ernest trust my parents, Fran? I repeat.

He didn’t tell me anything else, Marta. he tells me complaining. Why do you keep asking about him when you’ve seen that during these two weeks he hasn’t even wanted to pick up your calls?

I don’t want to tell him again that I know that Ernest loves me and that if he has done that he had an important reason. The last time I said something like that about Ernest I hated his condescending face, like if I were saying something crazy.

I have to go get my things. I tell him while going out through the door.

Go to get your things? he asks, not understanding.

I have my things at home. and seeing that he still doesn’t know what I mean I explain, Where Ernest and I lived, you know...

Marta— and his expression isn’t too promising. He left that house days ago. You don’t have anything there anymore.

What? I exclaim. There I had everything that—

I took it your parent’s house. he tells me, calming me down.

But, how—

He gave me the keys. he explains. I went there the day after you were interned; I picked up everything and your father and I took it home.

And he—

His things weren’t there anymore. He confirms it, knowing what I mean.

The world crumbles on top of me as soon as he says it. He’s not even in Barcelona? Where did he go?

But he... We lived together there. And he had no money to—

But your parents did.

My parents?

Fran gasps while he pulls my bag onto his shoulder. We go out to the hall and start walking towards the exit.

I think that your parents offered him money to stay away from you. he confesses mumbling without looking at me. I supposed that he’d go somewhere else outside from Barcelona with that money.

He wouldn’t accept that money. I say it to myself out loud. It’s impossible, Ernest isn’t like that...

If I don’t calm down I’m going to get a heart attack before I get out of the hospital.

Sometimes we don’t get to know people entirely, Marta. He tells me calmly, offering me his arm for me to grab it.

I don’t even rub it and I keep walking by my own making him have to put his hands in his pockets.

He couldn’t have done that. I say it again. Ernest isn’t like that. He wouldn’t...

Fran gasps, being worn out. He doesn’t tell me anything then. He waits until we get on a taxi to speak again.

Marta, I think that it’s not necessary that I tell you how I feel about you—

Don’t, Fran. Please. I beg him. This isn’t the best time to—

I know. He cuts me off. I know that right now you have to find out what kind of person Ernest is. And you have to do it on your own.

I know well what kind of person Ernest is, Fran. I snapped, being more tan mad.

I just want to tell you. he continues, like if I hadn’t told him anything in between. That I’m going to be there when you forget him.

Fran... I appreciate everything you’re doing for me. I try to explain him as calmly as I possibly can. I assure you that I’m really grateful for everything you’ve done. I like you, I really do. But at the time it didn’t work out and now it’d be practically impossible because I’m in love of—

‘Practically’ isn’t a definitive ‘no’. he suggests with a smile.

It was a sort of speech...

But unconsciously you haven’t closed that door yet. he says being hopeful. Let me hold on to that.

Fran, I don’t want you to think that I—

Let me have that little illusion, Marta. he repeats it in a low voice. I can wait all the time you need. Just let me be beside you while I wait.

He exhausts me. I don’t know how to make him see that I’d never be with him. I’ve told him in every possible way trying to be kind. But I’m starting to get tired of his attitude.

Fran, I don’t want you to lie to yourself. We don’t work as a couple. We tried it at the time and I don’t want to repeat the experience. I consider you a great friend but other than that... Understand that I—

You never know, Marta. he tells me like if he weren’t listening to anything of what I’m trying to explain to him. You never know....

But you’re my professor. I tell him, trying that to see if...

There are only three months left to finish the grade. Enough for you to forget about everything that has happened and you can love me again

It’s like talking to a wall and I’m too tired to keep trying to convince him that he has to forget about me possibly feeling something for him. He keeps looking out the window, paying more attention to the outside spring environment than to our conversation. It seems like what I say doesn’t matter to him. It’s like if, in his mind he has already gotten the idea that we’re going to get back together and nothing I said would make him change his mind so, I let him be. Praying for him to notice the real situation by himself. The only thing I want is to get back home, lie down on the bed and don’t move from there until I have to go to classes tomorrow.

To keep up with a life to which I don’t see any attractiveness right now.

II

––––––––

Ernest

The clock finally marks the time to get out of here. Don’t misunderstand me. I’m delighted for having been capable to rejoin Sorbonne before the next course and for having somewhere to fall flat at least but administrative tasks never were my strong point. Besides, it was my idea. The professor that substituted me this year seemed to be a good guy and I didn’t want to leave him without a job in the middle of the course. And the students deserve respect. It’s not the best year for me to give classes and it pains me that the EBU had to go through so many changes for my fault. I don’t want to keep making mistakes in my professional life.

In my personal life neither.

"Are you going home?

I hear Elise walking around me with a sweet voice like if she were examining my appearance.

Yes. I respond. Are you going to have dinner?

She smiles like if I had said something stupid but she wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings saying it clearly.

Don’t wait for me. She replies, rubbing my cheek. I think that I’ll get lucky today.

"With Céline or with a new one? I ask, making her laugh.

It could be that, if I’m really, really lucky, both of them.

I shake my head and try to not laugh with her about something like that. We walk together to the exit, saying goodbye to everybody and wishing them a good weekend. People invite us to their parties and picnics; Elise accepts all of them and I don’t accept any. I’m not in the mood to have fun.

Or to live.

I don’t think that you’ll be able to go to all those parties. I joke with her, being already outside

It’s a beautiful spring afternoon that incites you to enjoy Paris in any way, something that I’m sure that Elise will do for both of us.

And I don’t think that you’ll be able to survive in Paris if you keep locked at home. You’ll get sick from how pallid you are. She says, condescendingly rubbing my arm. Everything looks different when you drink with Company and not by yourself in the kitchen. She sees my face of Shit, you’ve noticed. If you miss her so much, call her.

Elise, please. I beg her, feeling a sudden anguish, turning my head to the little fountains in the plaza. You already know that I can’t. If her parents find out that I—

She calls you all the time.

Not anymore. I remind her. You see, you don’t need much time to forget.

You think that she doesn’t call you because she has forgotten you? She laughs and plays with my hair, something that she knows that I hate because of the childish connotation for which she does it. Ernest, she’s hurt and sad.

You can’t know that.

You know that I do can know those things. Right at that moment an exuberant girl walks beside us and she looks at her too shamelessly. Just like I know that that other girl would like to have a good time... With both of us.

I clack my tongue, being a bit annoyed. Talking with Elise sometimes is like going crazy, with all those disperse ideas that pass through her mind.

Elise, I’m going home. I remind her. If you want me to leave something to dinner for when—

You should go out with me. Like before. You’d feel better.

I’d miss her a lot more.

It doesn’t look like she wants to mock about something like that given the pity look that I see in her face.

You must be really in love of her to not want to enjoy the good weather in Paris.

I shake my head, giving up with her reflections.

Thanks for everything, Elise. For helping me to be readmitted even being in exceedance. For letting me live with you again...

I’ve been here for weeks and I still hadn’t thanked her. I think that on the first days I simply tried to not think about jumping off from some  bridge and she understood that I needed time to go back to being me; though I haven’t done it yet.

Only until Marta finishes the grade and you look for a corner that’s comfier than an apartment in Montparnasse.

Elise. I complain. She and I are no longer—

Call her, it’s that simple.

It isn’t. If she finds out of what I did to come back to Paris...

She would understand it.

No, she’d never understand something like this.

It’s something that has been tormenting me all this time and I feel too vile when I think about it.

Everything’s going to get solved, OK?

No, nothing’s going to—

Don’t make me mad. She warns me, finishing our conversation. And now I’m leaving. I apologize beforehand if we don’t let you sleep...

I take my hand to my head and a laugh escapes from me because of her shameless answer. She turns around smiling, on her way to who knows where, moving her hips, feeling attractive and triumphing. I go to the closest subway station to go home and lock myself there until Monday, then go back to work and wait for another weekend arrives to lock myself at home again.

Some knocks in the living room wake me up. I don’t know what time it’d be or who’s making that uproar. It’s not until my mind wakes up a little bit more that I suppose that it could be Elise with someone that she has brought home. I turn around on the bed and try to fall asleep again before the screaming and moaning session starts but my door opens up at that moment.

Ernest. I hear Elise whispering. Are you asleep? I don’t wake up, hoping that that way she goes away. We need your help.

I don’t pretend to ‘help you’. I whisper without moving.

She laughs for an instant, knowing what I mean.

That’s not it. Céline got hurt and I can’t find the peroxide hydrogen.

I curse in my mind and turn towards her, I sharpen my hearing and hear a faraway whine from the living room. It seems like she’s saying the truth so I get up and go out from my comfortable bedroom. 

"I’ll