Antonio Hill - The Summer of Dead Toys

“. . let’s drop it. I know you hate commitment, you made that very clear. But I thought it would be fun.”

“What?”

“The boat thing.” He looked at her strangely and smiled. “I thought I was the one who was hungover!”

“Of course it would be fun.”

He spread his arms in a gesture of surrender.

“There’s no understanding you. I thought that the idea of spending ten days with me was too much for you. That you felt pressured or something.”

“I’m pregnant.”

It took him a few seconds to process the information. And a few more seconds to work out that if she was telling him this, it was probably because he had something to do with it.

“Preg. . nant?”

“I have to go to the doctor on Monday, but I’m sure, Tomás.”

“And. .?” He took a deep breath before asking. She saved him the effort.

“It’s yours. I’m sure of that too.” She hushed him with her hand. “Stay calm. Take your time. You don’t have to say anything just now.”

Of course he seemed at a loss for words. He cleared his throat. He shifted in his seat. She couldn’t say what his face showed: surprise, perplexity, distrust?

“Listen to me,” Leire went on. “I’m telling you because I think you have a right to know. But if you get up from your chair and leave right now, I’ll understand completely. It’s not like we have to be together or anything like that. I won’t feel disappointed, or cheated, or-”

“Fuck.” He leaned back against the chair and looked at her as if he couldn’t believe it. “I couldn’t get up even if I wanted to.”

She couldn’t help smiling.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I know it’s not what you were expecting to hear.”

“Definitely not. But thanks for telling me.” He was beginning to react. He spoke slowly. “Are you sure?”

“That it’s yours?”

“That you’re pregnant! If you haven’t seen the doctor yet-”

“Tomás.”

“OK. And what are you intending to do?”

“You mean am I going to have it?” It was the logical question. “Yes.”

“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “So you’re just telling me, aren’t you?”

Leire was going to contradict him, but realized that, in the end, he was right.

“Yes.”

“And the alternatives you leave me with are. .?”

“Well, you can go out to buy cigarettes and never come back,” she said. “Or stay and be a father to the baby.”

“I think the cigarettes option is outdated.”

“Classics never go out of fashion.”

He smiled, despite himself.

“You’re unbelievable!”

“Tomás.” She looked at him gravely, and tried to make what she was going to say reflect exactly what she wanted to say, not sound like a threat, coercion or self-sufficiency. “The truth is I like you. I like you a lot. But we’re not in a relationship, we’re not a couple, or anything like it. I don’t know if I’m in love with you, and I don’t think you’re in love with me. Not that I really know what being in love is, if I’m honest. . But if I weren’t pregnant, I would go on a cruise with you and see what happened. Given the circumstances,” she continued, pointing to her belly, “everything has changed.”

He nodded, and inhaled deeply. It was clear that a great many ideas, questions and possibilities were thronging in his mind.

“Don’t be angry,” he finally replied. “But I need time to get used to the idea.”

“You’re not the only one. We have approximately seven months for that.”

He stood up and she knew he was leaving.

“I’ll call you,” he said.

“Of course.” She wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were on the table.

“Hey. .” He came over to her and stroked her cheek. “I’m not running away. I’m just asking for some time out.”

She turned to him, and couldn’t help the irony in her voice.

“Are you out of cigarettes?”

Tomás took a packet out of his shirt pocket.

“No.”

Leire said nothing. She felt the hand move away from her cheek and Tomás taking a step back. She closed her eyes and the next thing she heard was the front door. When she opened them he was gone.

Hospital del Mar’s brand-new waiting room was as full as might be expected on a July Saturday, and it took Héctor a moment to locate Sergeant Andreu. In fact, she saw him first and made her way toward him. She put a hand on his shoulder and Héctor turned, startled.

“Martina! What happened?”

“I don’t know. It appears someone broke into her house and attacked her. It’s serious, Héctor. They’ve taken her to the ICU. She hasn’t regained consciousness.”

“Shit.” His expression was so intense the sergeant feared he might lose control. “Héctor, let’s go out for a minute. Right now, we can’t do anything here and. . I have to talk to you.”

She thought he’d refuse, demand to speak to the doctor, but what he did was ask the inevitable question she’d expected.

“How come you found her?”

The sergeant looked at him intently, trying to discern in that altered expression a sign that might let her decide, know. She didn’t find it, so she merely answered in a low voice, “That’s what I want to talk to you about. Let’s go outside.”

The sun was making the mirrors of the cars sparkle. It was half past three in the afternoon and the thermometer was hitting thirty degrees centigrade. Sweaty, Héctor lit a cigarette and smoked hungrily, but he felt sick and the nicotine tasted foul. He threw the remains of the fag on the ground and stubbed it out.

“Calm down a little, Héctor. Please.”

He put his head back and breathed deeply.

“How did you find her?”

“Wait a minute. There’re a couple of things you should know. There’s news in the Omar case.” She was hoping to see some reaction in her colleague’s face, but all she could make out was interest, a desire to know. “Héctor, I asked you this Wednesday when we had lunch, but just so we’re clear. Did you see Omar on Tuesday?”

“Where is this going?”

“Fuck, just answer! Do you think I’d insist if it wasn’t important?”

He looked at her with a mixture of frustration and rage.

“I’ll say this for the last time. I didn’t see Omar on Tuesday. I didn’t see him again after that day. Got that?”

“What did you do on Tuesday evening?”

“Nothing. I went home.”

“You didn’t speak to your ex or your son?”

Héctor looked away.

“What the fuck did you do?”

“I sat down to wait for someone to remember to call me. It was my birthday.”

Martina couldn’t suppress a guffaw.

“Fuck, Héctor! Hard man of the month, going around whacking suspects, and then sitting down at home to cry that nobody remembers him. .”

Despite himself, he smiled.

“Well, getting older makes you sensitive.”

“The worst thing is, I believe you, but a witness saw you outside his house on Tuesday evening, around half past eight.” “What are you saying?” he almost shouted.

“Héctor, I’m just telling you what I’ve found out. I don’t even have to, so do me a favor and don’t raise your voice.” She went on to tell him Rosa’s testimony, not omitting a single detail, as well as the information obtained at midday in the butcher’s. “That’s why I went to your house. The front door was open and I went up. When I passed the first floor I noticed that the door there wasn’t closed either and it seemed strange. I pushed it and. . I found that poor woman unconscious on the floor.” Salgado heard his colleague’s story without interrupting her once. While he was listening to her, his brain tried to fit the other pieces into it: those disturbing recordings of him beating Omar and of Ruth on the beach. He didn’t manage to do it, but he thought Andreu deserved to know. He didn’t want to hide anything else from her, so he told her everything as soon as she’d finished. Then they both stayed quiet, thinking, each absorbed in their own doubts and fears. Héctor reacted first and took out his mobile. Nervously, he looked for his son’s number in his contacts and hit the call button. Luckily, Guillermo answered immediately this time. Salgado spoke to him for a couple of minutes, trying to seem normal. Then, without thinking, he called Ruth. The only reply was a cold voice announcing that the phone was turned off or out of signal. Meanwhile Martina Andreu was watching him attentively. He was aware of it, but told himself she was within her rights. There were reasons for her suspicions, and suddenly he realized-the irony of fate-that he would have to put forward the same argument he’d heard from Savall an hour before. Appeal to her friendship, trust, the years of working together.