Page 20 of The Night We Became Strangers
Valeria
I was now officially engaged. I’d regretted it almost immediately.
When my uncle told the Recaldes, Félix sent me a bouquet of violets, and that afternoon, he paid me another visit filled with uncomfortable silences and shared smiles.
Before he left, he clumsily came to me and stamped a kiss on my cheek.
My nose started to itch again, and the only relief came in the form of a sneeze.
I was convinced I was allergic to Félix.
The only solution to my dilemma was to become self-sufficient.
It turned out that I couldn’t live off my inheritance since there wasn’t any money left.
My dad’s house had gotten sold years ago, and my mom’s father hadn’t left me anything of value.
In fact, he’d had so much debt that my uncle had covered it all with the sale of his furniture and other possessions.
My uncle had simply tried to spare me the distress of knowing the full truth when I’d first arrived by hiding those unfortunate details.
But Tía Marga had told me the truth.
And now, I had a plan.
My uncle had all the insight on the Mexican celebrities visiting our town.
Whereas Juliana Isabel had agreed to sing during the radio’s evening show next week, the reclusive Alejandro Toledo (and my old camera) remained unreachable.
Apparently, he was only seen on the movie set, and photos were not allowed.
He would then return to his suite at Hotel Humboldt, where he would spend the rest of the evening.
My uncle had heard from a friend of his at the set that a girl visited the singer every night and they ordered dinner from the hotel restaurant.
I had been thinking all night about my options and my only conclusion was that in order to break off my engagement, I needed a job.
The only thing I could—and wanted—to do was take pictures.
If Crónicas wouldn’t hire me as a photographer, another publication might.
And what was the one thing all the newspapers were currently after?
Alejandro Toledo.
If I managed to get a shot of him with his mysterious girlfriend, I could offer it to all the editors in town and see who paid me more, or better yet, who offered me a full-time position.
It was brilliantly simple.
But I couldn’t do it without help. I needed Graciela to cover for me, because my plan could only take place at night, and I had to be in bed by nine.
I also needed a key to Alejandro’s suite.
That might be trickier, but not impossible.
Graciela tried to dissuade me. Félix was a perfectly acceptable match.
He was romantic and generous, she said, what else could I want?
“A man who doesn’t give me allergies?” I said.
“That is the stupidest thing I’ve heard. You’re not allergic to him. It’s all in your head.”
“All right, then how about someone I love?”
Graciela led out a deep sigh. “That I can understand.” So, she agreed to help me. But the plan required preparation.
It took three days and two visits to the Art Deco hotel, the tallest in all of downtown, to become acquainted with the building layout and come up with a strategy.
Our plan required a secret meeting with one of the hotel housekeepers, whom we ambushed after her shift was over and she was waiting for the bus on a bench.
I hated to part with some of my savings, but I saw the transaction as an investment in my future, so I flat-out offered to buy her uniform.
“But senorita , it’s dirty. I wore it all day. I was taking it home to wash it.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that.” I removed a couple of bills, and she took them without speaking another word.
From our observations and from pointed questions to Tío Bolívar, we got a good description of the girlfriend in question and learned that Alejandro Toledo was staying on the eighth floor, which happened to have a nice terrace with some lounge chairs to enjoy the city view.
My plan was bold, but if I wanted an exclusive, I was going to have to take risks and do something different from all the other photographers.
The only problem was how to avoid the two mammoths who accompanied Toledo at all times.
I would have to figure it out when the time came.
Meanwhile, Graciela would cover for me at home, saying I had a terrible migraine and wouldn’t be coming downstairs for dinner.
She agreed hesitantly, as she didn’t like lying to her parents.
I left home at 6:00 p.m. because the housekeepers finished their shift around that time.
In a leather handbag I had borrowed from Graciela, I carried the uniform and most important, my camera.
I discreetly walked past the bank adjacent to the hotel tower, then stood, gathering my courage, in front of the hotel’s bronze double doors.
I scanned the door’s square panels, running my fingers over the embossed reliefs featuring scenes of everyday life.
These panels were surrounded by geometric lines that gave the hotel entrance an ultramodern appearance, which highly contrasted with the colonial style of the buildings in the same block.
Of course, Toledo would’ve stayed there.
It was one of the newest and biggest hotels in the area.
I finally pulled the doors open and, taking advantage of the fact that the receptionists were busy tending to a group of tourists, I crossed the ample vestibule, my gaze on the cement tile floors.
I headed directly to the lavatory, which Graciela and I had already surveyed on our reconnaissance mission.
I quickly donned the black shirtdress, which was a little short on me, and tied the white apron around my waist. Then, I went to the basement. For another ten sucres, the maid had told me where to find the keys to the rooms and Toledo’s in particular.
“You’re not going to rob him, right?”
“Not at all,” I said, “I just want to see him up close. I’m his greatest fan.”
Finding the keys and grabbing a cart full of cleaning supplies, I headed for the service elevator.
The hallway to Toledo’s room was empty, so I continued to his suite with confidence.
My uncle had said that filming usually concluded after sunset, but Toledo never joined the crew or other actors for dinner. He came directly to the hotel.
I knocked on the door, just to make sure no one was inside.
As there was no answer, I removed the keys from my apron’s pocket.
With trembling fingers, I opened the door to the suite and pushed it in.
It smelled of fresh pine and wood. It was so spacious and nice! I wouldn’t have minded staying there.
The suite had a fine living area, with a rosewood couch and matching lamps on either end table.
A guitar was resting casually on top of the sofa.
I pictured Alejandro singing romantic tunes to his lover in this very parlor.
The coffee table was made of thick oak, with flower arrangements scattered throughout the suite and tasteful artwork hanging on the walls.
In the bedroom was an oversized bed draped with a lime quilt, a small desk, and a sitting area in front of a long vertical window with a glass door next to it.
There was the balcony with lounge chairs my uncle had mentioned!
The view of the city was breathtaking: a mosaic of pitched roofs, church towers, and domes tucked in a valley surrounded by evergreens and mountains.
What made it most impressive were the kaleidoscopic colors in the sky, ranging from blues to crimson and purples, as the sun was being swallowed by the night.
Any moment now, Toledo and his bodyguards would be back.
I had to find a good hiding spot. The closet in the bedroom was where all of Alejandro’s clothes were.
He would probably take a shower or change clothes as soon as he got back.
I contemplated hiding under the bed, but it was too low, and I didn’t fit.
Besides, if something were to happen between the two lovers, I didn’t want it to take place on top of me !
In the hall between the room and the parlor was a closet with a gabardine overcoat hanging by its lonesome self.
The weather in Quito was mild most of the year, and this had been a warm month, so there would be no need for him to reach out for this jacket.
Thus, he probably wouldn’t look inside the closet—at least I hoped so.
Hanging the camera around my neck, I went into the dark space and alternated between sitting and kneeling, trying to find comfort and relief for my aching legs.
What if Toledo decided, this once, to go out to dinner?
Then, I would be stuck in this closet for the rest of my life!
I grabbed a broom leaning against the wall as a defense weapon against one of the bodyguards or anyone who might find me here.