Luis Leante - See How Much I Love You

ALBERTO WAS THE LAST PERSON SHE WANTED TO MEET IN the corridors of the administrative department of the hospital. Montse left the director’s office convinced that she had made an important decision. She knew her conscience would throw up objections, but she was used to such internal debates. She felt good, as if she had just got rid of some ballast and her mind felt lighter. For the first time in several months she viewed the future with optimism. Perhaps this was the light at the end of the tunnel people often talked about. She made plans: go to a churrería , have a breakfast fit for a queen, call up her sister, check train timetables, make a list of everything she needed for the trip and, finally, choose a destination. It was like walking into a building you have only seen from the outside, but which exerts a powerful attraction on you. Then her thoughts darkened. She was used to ghosts coming and going. But this ghost was real.

At that moment Alberto, who was still her husband, walked out of the lift, a briefcase in his hand and a mobile glued to his ear. He smiled at her, still talking on the phone. Montse felt her optimism slip away. Her heartbeat accelerated. She’d always been slow to react. By the time she felt the impulse to turn around and go back the way she’d come it was too late. She should have foreseen the possibility of an encounter. Alberto was now walking towards her and saying goodbye to the person on the phone. He had a heartbreaking smile and was impeccably dressed, as usual. He casually kissed Montse on the cheek. She let him do it, trying not to show her discomfort. She only wanted the moment to be over soon so she could go back to her previous mood: the buoyancy, the light at the end of the tunnel. But Alberto didn’t realise, or didn’t want to realise, that he was making Montse upset. They exchanged polite phrases. Montse tried to hold his gaze but found it difficult. She had to admit that he could be very charming, even if one knew all his tricks. When Alberto asked her what she was doing there, Montse decided to test his reaction.

‘I’ve just asked Human Resources for an extended leave of absence.’

Alberto didn’t bat an eyelid. He smiled his best smile.

‘Well, Montse, that is some news. Are you stressed out?’

‘On the contrary, I’m too relaxed. I need an experience which might be a bit more… fulfilling.’

‘I see, I see. It might be a good idea. Mind you, I’ve thought of it myself. I might follow your example. Are you going to travel?’

‘Yes, that’s what I had in mind.’

‘It’s wonderful to travel in the off season.’

The phrase felt like a blow in the neck. She was annoyed at thinking like Alberto — having her thoughts, even her words, stolen by him. He’d done that ever since they met. For a long time she’d thought Alberto had such a strong influence on her that she wasn’t the mistress of her own words. Montse said goodbye in a rush, feeling she was about to cave in, to collapse. Alberto was like a screen between her and what was real.

The ride on the lift seemed never-ending. She needed air, and almost ran to the street for a breath of fresh air. She was carrying her pills in her handbag, but did not want to take them only because of the encounter. Feeling nauseous, she leaned against a car. In spite of the cold, she was sweating. She was sure she didn’t love that man. Sometimes she doubted she had ever loved him. But she had come to depend on her husband in a way that went beyond love. Alberto had a puzzling influence on the people around him. He’d had it on Montse’s parents, on her sister Teresa, and on their daughter. He’d had it, no doubt, on the lovers that shared his bed while Montse searched for unlikely explanations after discovering small signs of betrayal. No one had left an imprint on Montse’s life as deep as that of her husband. No one had manipulated her so much, nor done her as much harm.

Alberto had always looked more mature than he actually was. Montse had met him during her last year at university. He was studying on a scholarship in his final year at the department chaired by Doctor Cambra. Her father had never invited students home, but Alberto was different. At the age of twenty-four he already spoke like an experienced professor, sure of his opinions. He was handsome, elegant, polite and cultivated. He warmed the hearts of Doctor Cambra and his wife. Even Teresa had a twinkle in her eye when the scholar turned up in the house. Alberto was attentive to everyone, but especially to Montse. He was so different from Santiago San Román that everything she saw in him helped to bury the memory of the dead boy.

The news of Santiago’s death had been more painful than her confinement in Cadaqués and her parents’ silence after the miscarriage. Montse had started university without applying herself. She had decided to hide her pregnancy from her parents until it no longer became possible. Nor was it very difficult to refuse to extend to Santiago the forgiveness he so desperately asked of her. She was so angry she barely knew what she was doing. In December, when the phone calls stopped, she felt relieved. She thought she would forget Santiago in the year it would take him to complete his military service. But things went from bad to worse when she could no longer hide the growth of her hips, belly and breasts. After her parents found out that she was indeed pregnant, the household descended into a kind of mourning. Yet Montse didn’t cry as much as she thought she would. She had run out of tears. Under pressure from her father, she confessed that she’d met someone in the summer and had fallen in love. Doctor Cambra wanted to know more, but she didn’t say another word. Just picturing her father talking to Santiago San Román made her feel sick. An enforced marriage was the last thing she wanted, and she knew her parents would never accept the boy. A few days before Christmas, Montse moved to Cadaqués to spend the winter and spring away from Barcelona. Mari Cruz, the maid, went with her. It was the saddest Christmas of her life. Everyone made her feel guilty, even the maid. Her studies were put on hold. The Doctor invented a trip to Germany in order to justify her absence, and the lies told by the family acquired epic dimensions.

Meanwhile, the winter by the sea passed slowly, monotonously, governed by boredom. The family visited Montse in Cadaqués every weekend, but she always wished it was Monday so she could be alone. She thought of Santiago, of his silence. Now she felt guilty for not having given him one last chance to explain himself. Her hope that he might have called her at home remained, but no one ever brought her any news or letters. Whenever she asked if anyone had called her in Barcelona, Teresa refused to discuss it. Even her sister seemed to be against her.

In February Montse started bleeding and having contractions. Her father came from Barcelona with a doctor he trusted. Two days later Montse had to be operated on and the child didn’t survive. It was a painful experience, but she felt relieved. Thereafter the family kept a resentful silence. Montse stayed in Cadaqués until Easter. On her return, although she had recovered, she remained in very low spirits — everyone was led to believe she’d been in Germany, attending university. She resumed her studies, but barely passed a subject in June. That summer the family didn’t holiday in Cadaqués. While Montse revised for her September exams, the rest of them moved about the house in silence, as if they were standing guard. Every time the phone rang she was startled. Montse only studied out of fear: her heart was not in it. Books and wall charts felt like flagstones under which she might end up crushed. But she was so afraid of her parents that she would have done anything to please them. Little by little Santiago’s image lost its contours. She would swing from nostalgia to hatred, from hatred to melancholy, from melancholy to despair. She was sure the boy had forgotten her already. Yet she sometimes would dream of him and wake in a sweat, nervous, fearful. She constantly tried to imagine what he might be doing at that precise moment, an exercise that increased her anxiety. This went on until October.