The seawater rose and fell in a synchronized dance. The waves seemed to follow their own rhythm, listening to music that only they knew. In the darkness of the night, the sound of the waves breaking against the sand was almost the only thing Lilia could hear, and it was easy to get lost in that sound, in that vast sea, and in that dark and starry sky.
The young woman with brown hair raised her face from the water and focused her gaze on the moon, which was shining brightly, almost as if she knew that her time was running out, that in a few minutes the night would give way to day and that no one would notice her. presence.
Lilia had known the history of the moon and the sun for a long time, and you could say that she always found it fascinating. She is reading that she tells how the moon and the sun fell in love, but they never saw each other, because when the moon arrives, the sun goes away, and when the sun rises, it is the time of the moon to retire. That impossible love that they had to live. But every so often, at twilight, they would meet, just above the sky, one on each side, and it was possible to observe them, just like now. The moon on one side and the sun on the other.
Lilia was alone contemplating the romantic encounter between the sun and the moon, from a distance. It was barely dawn and there was no one on the beach. She leaned back on the wet sand so that she could look at the two stars. They were big and splendid. She somehow almost felt like an intruder between the two of them, being her witness to her date.
The moon was shining and, for a moment, brighter than the sun, which is shy aside. In the middle of the darkness, the moon seemed to have more light than everything, even wrapped in darkness and darkness, she shone.
The lonely girl settled farther on the sand, listening for the tiny movements of the moon and the sun. They were almost imperceptible, but slowly the sun was changing its size and claiming something that by right was his, the day; while the moon was hidden until it disappeared completely. And when the rays of the sun began to cast shadows on her face, he knew it was time to leave.
She picked up her wool coat that she was using as a pillow and stood up. She took one last look at the sea, at the angry waves of hers that continually followed her path, while she, too, followed her own path.
It was several kilometers, but he had been doing this route for several days, so not only did he know it by heart, he was not afraid of it. He walked along the edge of the road, while some cars passed by him, hurrying to reach the city.
The girl who walked at a slow pace was in no hurry, she kept pace with her, enjoying the fresh air on her face and the wind that shook her hair. She enjoying the scents in the morning, which always seemed fresher and more natural than at any other time of the day.
She was a good feeling, feeling exposed and free, adrift, no thoughts clouding her mind, no fixed idea, no set plan, no place to go, no time to meet.
She later lived in that haze, she seemed like she was floating through life. As if she was not really alive but in a foreign dream. The days were hours and sometimes months, time passed slowly, crawling, and sometimes, when she was facing the sea, observing and analyzing the moon and the sun, the hours flew by. It was night and then it was the day. Nothing seemed to separate that moment more than an invisible line. While the rest of the day she seemed eternal.
It had been two months since the accident and sometimes it seemed like yesterday, and sometimes years ago.
Sometimes she forgot who she was and where she was, she just floated through life, like an unwanted guest, waiting for time to pass, looking at everyone through a transparent cloak.
She sighed in surrender when she, unfortunately, she got to her house, pretty fast, to tell the truth, and she counted the twenty steps needed from the sidewalk to the front door. Ritual already quite frequent since her nightly escapades began.
The door was open, she pushed it open and she stepped inside the house, just in time three pairs of eyes turned from the living room to look at her.
Lilia stared back at them, chin up. It was strange to see the three of them gathered in the room, although lately that was quite common.
— Lilia! — Her mother exclaimed, standing up and eliminating the distance between them until her body was glued to that of her daughter in an uncomfortable hug. Veronika was a confident and discreet person, she rarely showed affection, but she was being quite sentimental lately.
Lilia winced at her unnecessary expressionism and pulled out of her arms.
— Where were you? — Asked the father, observing how he was doing it lately. Robert was looking at his daughter as if she had grown a second head or if he expected her to disappear at any moment.
— I went to a walk. — The girl answered, with certain dejection in her tone. She had already explained to them that she liked to go for a walk at night to the sea. But they didn't seem to understand. And every so often they would make a scene.
— You went out yesterday? — Asked Mel, her older sister, who had been silent all the time, just leaning against the wall watching the scene. At least she didn't do it like her parents, yet her gaze conveyed something different.
— at night. — Lilia retorted, already turning to go up the stairs. The dream of a sleepless night was beginning to weigh on her body.
— You can't keep going out at dawn! — Veronika yelled from the living room.
— It wasn't early morning, it was night. — she corrected him, stopping on the stairs to contemplate them.
— Worse! — She screamed and by the tone of her voice, it was noticeable that she was angry. — Did you spend the whole night at the beach?
Lilia turned a deaf ear to that question, completely determined to ignore them. There was no need to say something. Her parents already knew the answer. What she didn't know was why they insisted on asking the same questions when they already knew the answers.
Since the accident had happened they had become paranoid, overprotective, and even a little heavy. And that who had lost the boyfriend was not them, but her.
Ian had died in the car accident they had had two months ago. They were coming back from the beach, the same one she used to visit now from time to time. They had spent the night lying in their jacket, looking at the stars and the moon. When dawn broke, they decided to return, but just two blocks from getting home, a car has driven by an alcoholic driver hit them. He passed away immediately from his injuries, but Lilia, ironically, was even hurt.
Although the impact was on his side, he did not even have a wound. Nothing to prove that this had really happened, so from time to time he doubted whether it really had. It seemed like a dream from which it was difficult to wake up. He had nothing to prove it, just the continued absence of Ian.
From one moment to the next he had ceased to be in his world, from one moment to another and no one accompanied him to the beach, and he had no one with whom to look at the stars, with whom to see the sun rise on the horizon and see the moon hide. Between the clouds.
It had been taken from her, and strangely enough, the idea that it was a dream still hangs over her. A horrible nightmare from which she could not wake up.
Lilia walked into her room and flopped down on the bed. She will not cover her blankets in such a way that they will cover him completely. She buried her head in the pillow, and she was about to fall asleep when she felt someone enter the room.
She barely raised her head to see Mel sitting on the edge of the bed.
Her older sister smiled at him excitedly, but it was one of those fake emotions that you use when you want to say something but don't know how to do it. Lilia could tell that she knew her quite well.
— What? She — she claimed. — Do you want to sleep with me? She — she suggested opening her arms to him and showing him the tangle of blankets that was her bed at that moment.
— I have to go to work. She — she answered — and you too.
The young woman who was lying down snorted in exhaustion. It was true, but it was also true that Mr. James had been being very condescending lately and letting her take a few days off. Everyone understood the girl that she had lost her boyfriend two months ago. They all wanted her to feel better and less broken. Everyone wanted to pretend that in two months she would be fine, probably meeting other boys and planning a trip.
They were all so wrong. She already had a planned trip, with Ian, she already had a life planned with him. They were going to move in together next year, they were going to have a dog and two cats, and they were going to collect some nonsense to have as their own hobby and expose it to visitors with pride and enthusiasm. That nobody understood. But she didn't say any of that to her sister.
— just a few minutes. — He begged instead, and she gave in to her gesture. She settled next to her, head to head, staring at the white ceiling of the room, as the sunlight trickled through the curtain to hit the mirror creating patterns of shadows.
— You can't keep doing that. She — she whispered as if she were telling him a secret.
And even though she didn't say it, Lilia knew what she was referring to. He was implicit in her tone and in her expression, even though she could not see it from where she was, she felt her face wrinkled from hers.
— I don't know how much it bothers them. — she complained in the same tone.
— It doesn't bother us, Lilia, it worries us. — She replied, with a dry voice.
The words drowned in Lilia's throat, he wanted to tell her that there was nothing to worry about. She wanted to tell him that within her pain and discomfort, she was fine. She just needed time. Two months is still too little to get over someone.
But the dream was beginning to win over him. All she could hear was Mel starting to say something again, but she couldn't keep up with him. Her mind was already elsewhere, she was already lost in the memories of Ian. She lost what they had been. She murmured something, nodding her head to show him that she agreed with whatever she was saying, and then she closed her eyes, indulging in the depth and innocence of the dream.
When she opened her eyes again, a soft melody sounded from downstairs. Veronika was playing the piano, the way he liked it.
Mel was gone. The minutes with his sister were up.
Lilia got out of bed and went to the window to open the curtain, just in time to see some children running through the streets. The sun was still shining, but with much less force than in the morning.
She reached for the laptop resting on the writing and opened it. A blue background, no photo, welcomed him from her. Mel had changed it for her when she had asked. She couldn't bear to open up and see Ian's smiling face next to hers. She still had her lock screen photos on her cell phone, but she still didn't dare to touch them, so she didn't touch her cell phone either. For a while she had it filed in a drawer. She was too cowardly to change the background paper, so she had simply stopped using it.
She opened the email and searched for what she wanted.
There were the electronic charts. The mails. All the ones she had received until a month ago. She wasn't sure when she had started. Since the accident, the days were nothing more than haze, and she had a hard time separating them from each other.
But she was almost certain that it had been before her life had turned into a mess, and her letters were what kept him awake, attentive to something other than the hours and days.
But they had stopped coming, as well as everything that she had stopped happening in her life. Those emails were what kept her attentive and distracted when everything around her threatened to suffocate her, but suddenly there were no more new parts. Her email was always the same, except for the garbage that she was not interested in receiving. She updated every day hoping to see a new email from her, but there was nothing.
l.liliawa15@gmail.com she sent him sporadic emails, twice a week, sometimes three or even just one. They were stories of her life, stories of a life that she did not belong to, but that for some time she had lived as her own.
At first, they were just short letters, telling everyday things, or important details. Then they got more intense, the story got more interesting.
They were always signed with the same name. Lilia Wanderers. Curiously, they shared the same name, but not the last name. And for some strange reason, universe coincidence or encoding errors, they were causing their emails to go to his mailbox. Over and over again, making her fulfill a story that he only knew from the protagonist's words.
In less time than anticipated, she was eagerly awaiting her emails. Lilia wanted to know what had happened, that she had changed. It was like reading a book but in real-time, as it was being written. And that had helped her out of the small, dark world of hers. For those minutes when she read her email, her life ceased to exist, to worry, to care.
But then her emails stopped coming. From one moment to another they stopped coming; the days became eternal and entire weeks. There was nothing new to know, there was nothing to discover. The story was truncated. But there was something wrong.
The last email from her had not been at all passionate. On the contrary, the girl of the same name was worried, nervous, and upset. Something had been bothering her for a long time.
In her last letter, she was going out with someone, a boy with whom she had already been writing for a while. From what she told he was older, but they got along well.
But he was intense and possessive. He had been insisting on her to get out of her for quite some time, according to what she had read in her own letters until she gave in and decided to give him a chance.
She described herself as interested but concerned. He was older, she had met him at a party in late August, and she didn't quite know how she felt towards him. Maybe just curious, she said, for being someone older.
But since that departure, the routine emails had stopped arriving. Maybe she had just lost interest in writing them, but she wasn't satisfied with it. Thousands of tragic scenarios passed through her mind, perhaps due to her latest accident, she had a hard time getting out of that negative expectation, but deep down she knew it was something more than that.
Her letters had arrived for almost three months, religiously, however short or scarce of relevant information it was, they were there, in her mailbox. And now, out of nowhere, there were no more.
Lilia dropped her shoulders in surrender. Her psychologist said that she thought of this girl so as not to think of herself. But what else was left to her other than that true story, told by someone who had a life, when she herself felt that hers was over?
She closed the laptop. She had no way of knowing who she was. She had already sent him e-mails from her but they went into her mailbox, and she wasn't sure if they got into hers.
He dropped onto the bed and faced the ceiling. She looked shorter than she should have, or at least what she remembered. It was white, but a dull, dull white.
— Lilia, let's have dinner, — Veronika called, and when she turned her face Lilia saw her leaning against the door frame. — You shouldn't miss work, — she reproached him.
— No one is going to get angry,— she returned. The empathy with the dead boy's girlfriend is still in force. She thought to herself, but she didn't say anything. It bothered her mother when she spoke of herself in those terms.
But to tell the truth she didn't care. She used to pretend to move in with Ian, that's why she even worked overtime. The two were pooling money in a joint account to move in together. But for two months she did not know what to put that saved money.
She went downstairs to dinner, and as she sat in front of the television, Mel walked into the house, dumped his wallet on the cabinet, and dropped down right next to her.
Mel watched her for a moment without saying anything as if she was searching for something. Lilia raised an eyebrow in response, waiting for her to open her mouth to say whatever she was going to say, but then her sister turned her attention to the television with disinterest.
The young woman leaned her head on the back of the sofa. She was not really interested in what was happening on television. She counted the hours to be able to go out again, count the twenty steps to the sidewalk and walk to the beach, where the waves of the sea and the moon would welcome her.
—You've been sleeping all this time. — Lilia heard Mel speak, interrupting her train of thought, but she wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement, so she just kept quiet.
— Tomorrow you should go to work, Mr. James called today — Roberto snapped as if that would make her react.
Mr. James had been the first to tell Lilia that she takes whatever time she needed. How could she take the days off that she felt were necessary until she felt good and could go back to work when she was ready to do so.
She also did not respond to the statement of her father. He was counting the minutes until they all went to bed and she could head to the beach.
Lately, the moon was better company than anyone.
The four of them gathered around the table, Veronika at her plate of salad as if the last days of dieting were going to change the last 40 years of poor nutrition. Roberto with his piece of meat, ignoring the deaths necessary for him to eat that. Mel with the cell phone in one hand and the tender in the other. Lilia very much doubted that she was really aware of what she was putting into her mouth.
Ian used to say that eating was a sacred moment and they should dedicate themselves entirely to that task. But Ian was no longer there to support his beliefs or defend his views. And Lilia didn't think she had the strength to fight her parents' bad manners and food choices.
— You don't like it, dear? — Veronika asked, referring to the bowl of soup that she was whole before her daughter.
Lilia wondered why they all ate something different. But I didn't say anything. She just carried the spoon to the plate and from the plate to her mouth.
She went through that process for the next few minutes until it was empty. He didn't feel better, but apparently, her mother did, for she gave him a knowing smile when she lifted her face from her. Lilia returned the gesture, more for doing something than for complicity.
In minutes they had all dissipated. Each one to his room. She waited patiently for the silence to reign in the house and dressed again, with the first thing she found, she picked up her coat from the closet and her shoes, but she did not put them on, she held them firmly in her hands, ready not to make noises. She tiptoed to the back door.
She carefully dodged the furniture so she wasn't wearing anything. She had been doing this for so long that she could do it with her eyes closed. She reached the door that had been left open for as long as she could remember, and she held his cheekbone gently to turn it with absolute stealth. But the door did not open. Lilia found that after years of performing the same action of leaving the door open, it was now closed.
Panic grew inside her body. She turned to the cabinet, searching for the key that was always close at hand. It shouldn't be too far, but I wandered around looking over the table, at the ornament that rested on the cabinet, at the cabinet itself, opening and closing various drawers and doors, I lifted the chair cushion and nothing. It was as if he had disappeared.
She felt dizzy as if someone had stolen the air from the place. Almost in bewilderment, he approached the door again and felt harder. But it was inevitable, she was stuck. She did it again, this time with more force, she was beginning to feel flat phobically enclosed.
She turned on her heel and went back to her task of checking the place. She couldn't be very far away. The damn key had to be somewhere. There was a small drawer where she knew that they kept lost things, and she began to stir in it with enthusiasm and even despair. She was about to toss it all out so she could see more clearly when she saw someone standing near the entrance to the kitchen.
— What are you looking for? — Her mother asked in a low tone, and Lilia felt a wave of hatred wash over her. She knew very well what she was looking for.
— Where is it? — She asked, stopping in her tracks. She had to find the key, they couldn't keep her locked in the house forever.
—Lilia…— he whispered, but she really didn't care what her mother had to say. She just wanted to find the damn key.
— Where did you put it? — She repeated, unable to avoid raising her tone, deaf to her demands, trying, with all her strength, not to scream.
— We no longer want you to go out at night, it's dangerous ... — When listening to her, Lilia felt desperate, furious. She felt the blood rush through her bandages in a way that she hadn't before.
But she took a deep breath and tried to control her accelerated breathing, so as not to show that she actually felt like she was about to explode. Her jaw clenched almost painfully, along with her shoulders tensing. She couldn't believe this. Her eyes filled with involuntary tears. It was not sadness, it contained rage.
—Why are you doing this? I just want to get out! She — She screamed then and her face was held in a grimace. — I opened the door, — she ordered, gesturing to the door, trying to look calmer. Maybe she yes spoke as an adult, pretending tranquility that she did not have achieved what she wanted.
—I'm not going to do that, — Veronika replied, and she seemed steadfastly standing from her side of the door frame, determined not to give in. — You are going to sleep all night, tomorrow you are going to get up early and go to work. You're going to get your life back ... — she began but her voice died in the air when she saw the grimace that formed on her daughter's face.
— You can't be serious! — She screamed with all the desire, interrupting her perfect and insane speech — My boyfriend just died in a traffic accident, he left, he is no more! Isn't it okay for me to take some time to process everything?! — she was yelling at herself more than necessary but she couldn't control herself. She felt like the universe was making fun of her. It was like swimming against the current, like when you want something but everyone else wants you to do something different. She turned to try to open the door again. It was no longer about getting out, but about running away.
— You already took your time, Lilia. It's time that ... — Veronika tried again, after sighing.
— He was everything to me. We had plans for a life together. We were getting married. Did I already tell you that we were going home? — Lilia asked for a minimum of understanding and empathy. — To marry — she affirmed and she contained a cry when understanding the words. Every time she came back to it it was as if a new hole opened in her heart.
— I understand my daughter, but it is time that ... — Her look was sad, her eyes were drenched in false tears.
— Not! — she claimed to scream at her insensitivity. — It's not time. I want to feel my grief. It's my right. And you will not be able to leave me locked in this house forever — she protested, going to her lake, holding back tears and anger.
She shook her head and walked away from the place, running her hand hastily down her face to wipe away the incessant tears. She took the stairs two at a time, trying to control herself. Not to make a scene. She just wanted to be outside, walk the streets, step on the sand, see the moon and the sun. Seeing her romantic date and thinking that all was not lost. If the moon and the sun had found a way to stay together, why couldn't she?
Lilia stormed into her room and slammed the door. She went all the way through the window. It was a second floor, but she had already jumped when she was younger, maybe she could still do it without being fatally injured. She just had to fall in a good way. Maybe on her knees, she didn't quite remember how she did it before.
— What are you going to do? — He heard the familiar voice of her sister. Mel was watching her sitting on the bed.
Lilia cursed under her breath at her entire family. Apparently, everyone had agreed to tease her tonight.
— You have to help me,— she said, returning her attention to the window, determined to use what she had within her reach, she would not give up. — Mom is hysterical and she doesn't want him to go out. Can you believe that she hid the key to the door? She — She asked, already getting on the railing and looking out of the window. — Can you throw my shoes at me when I'm outside? She — she questioned, calculating the distance. Maybe it was three meters, and if she, surely she had already done it before, with about ten years younger.
— The idea was mine — he heard her say but it took her a few seconds to understand what she was referring to.
— Was it your idea to hide the key? — He protested when he realized the meaning of her words, entering the whole room and turning to look at her. This time he even bothered to hide his anger from him.
— It was the only thing I could think of. Clearly, the dialogue is not working — he snapped as if he was revealing that she ate part of her cake.
— What's wrong with you? — Lilia screamed in exasperation, at her screams, waving her arms in indignation.
— Lilia you have to start having a normal life, to leave Ian in the past. He is dead! But you are alive, and you are going with him — her voice echoed in the head of the aforementioned, and she sent shivers up her spine. Hearing someone talk about him like that was horrible. He knew that he was dead and that he was not coming back, but it was something that he only heard in his mind; when someone else said it he made her realize it was a reality in a way that nothing else could do.
— I'm alive,— he whispered, dropping his arms. — But I miss him. To what we used to be and what we pretended to be — he confessed, dropping to the side of the bed, already feeling the tears burn down his cheeks.
— You have to find a new version of yourself. Who do you want to be from now on? He is not coming back and he does not anticipate that you hold on to the memories or the things they used to do together — his voice was tender. She sounded almost motherly as she sat next to her on the floor, wrapping her lovingly in her arms.
Lilia leaned her head on her sister's shoulder and let the tears run down her cheek, leaving a wet trail. At some point, they moved to the bed, and Lilia let her sister tuck her in the unkempt blankets and hug her. She still wanted to go, she felt locked up and sad in that bed, looking at the memories that floated over her head. But she didn't want to move either, suddenly she was too tired to stand up and walk miles to the beach. Lilia couldn't sleep but didn't want to think about Ian. She let her mind travel to the girl of the same name, to the emails she received from her for months, making her an accomplice in her life.
Lilia closed her eyes feeling the heat of Mel's body close to hers. It would be easy to close your eyes and pretend that nothing had happened, but that would be nothing more than a fantasy, and fantasies have a short period of validity.
They couldn't bury her forever and force her to live a dream life, forgetting everything as if it hadn't happened. She wasn't going out tonight, but she would tomorrow.