Page 44 of The Night We Became Strangers

Valeria

I was still submerged in a cloud of bliss, courtesy of Matías’s kisses, when my uncle’s thunderous voice brought me back to reality.

“What the hell is going on here?!”

My uncle had never been intimidating to me, but he was now.

I pushed Matías away, electricity still coursing through undiscovered areas of my body.

Tío Bolívar marched toward us and, before anybody could react, he punched Matías square in the jaw with a resounding crack.

Matías fell back, against a bookshelf, his head being crowned by a particularly heavy volume of Enciclopedia Espasa-Calpe , carelessly placed on the edge of the shelf.

I was mortified, but before I could assist him, my uncle lunged toward him. Fortunately, my older cousins rushed into the study and got a hold of his arms.

“Calm down, Papá!” Jorge, the oldest and the living portrait of my uncle, said.

“What’s come over you?” said Arturo, his second-born and the tallest of all.

Tío Bolívar shrugged his sons off of him, while Matías rubbed his jaw and attempted to stand up straight.

“This desgraciado was disrespecting your cousin!”

The two of them turned to Matías, glaring.

Holy Mother, could this get any worse?

“Really?” Jorge said, assessing him from head to toe. “No surprise there, I guess. What else could be expected of a Montero?”

Arturo grabbed Mati’s arm. “You have no business here!”

“Get your damn hands off of me!” Matías said, shoving Arturo against one of the sofas. “I know the way.”

Fixing his lapels, he turned toward me and gave me a sideways smile. “Good night, Valeria.”

“Don’t you speak to her!” my uncle said.

As Matías walked away, my uncle shouted, “I don’t ever want to see you near my niece again, you hear?”

Whether he heard or not, he was out the door before Félix and his mother made it into the library. I wanted to throw the damn encyclopedia at my uncle’s head. He’d just ruined my chances with Matías!

“What was that ruckus?” my future mother-in-law said.

“Oh, nothing to worry about, Dona Caridad,” Jorge said. “Just some party crasher that insisted on speaking to my cousin, but we already took care of him.”

“Yes, he won’t be coming back here anymore,” Arturo said, fixing his jacket as it got disheveled with Matías’s push. “Come on, prima . Let’s go eat.”

I sighed heavily. Before walking away, I shot a glance at my uncle, who watched me pensively. He knew exactly what had been going on, and it had nothing to do with disrespect.

That night, I couldn’t sleep from the excitement.

Matías loved me.

And he hadn’t betrayed me, like I’d thought. It had all been his mother’s fault.

I finally knew what a kiss from Matías felt like. Who could sleep at a moment like this? Now the only problem was what to do about Félix. We were getting more and more entangled. He’d even given me a pearl ring that he said had belonged to his grandmother.

A noise coming from the street startled me.

Matías!

Another serenade from Félix?

No, God, please.

Graciela was fast asleep by my side, so I tiptoed to the window.

At first glance, I couldn’t see anything but the lonely street and the dim light post in front of the bakery.

I identified some movement—the shape of a man.

He appeared away from the light, but I was almost certain there was a person there.

He wore that fedora I had seen before, and I knew it wasn’t Matías because of the grayish mustache.

What could this man possibly want from me? Or was he after Graciela?

I was tempted to go downstairs and demand to know why he was following us, but I didn’t want to look like a fool if it just happened to be some random person in need of fresh air or waiting for a friend.

Besides, it could be dangerous. What if it was, in fact, some delinquent or someone who wanted to harm me?

And what would my uncle say if he saw me nonchalantly dashing into the street in the middle of the night after the spectacle with Matías he’d witnessed at my engagement party?

He hadn’t said anything else about it, but he’d stopped drinking altogether and during dinner, I caught him staring at me.

It was only a matter of time before he confronted me.

I didn’t know what I would tell him. Things with Matías were inconclusive and it was obvious that the animosity between the two families had not diminished with time but was growing like the roots of an oak tree.

I wondered if Matías’s mom knew I had taken Alejandro Toledo’s photo and printed it just to spite me.

I ought to go to Crónicas myself and demand an explanation, a correction, and payment from them after their act of thievery.

It would also be an excellent opportunity to see Matías again.

The guard greeted me as I walked into the Crónicas building the next morning and called the elevator for me. I was glad he remembered me as I didn’t feel like lying about having an appointment with my madrina again.

As the elevator ascended, my courage descended.

I had been rehearsing all I was going to tell Matías’s mom, but I didn’t know if I could bring myself to do it.

Every step from the elevator to her office felt like I was heading for my execution.

Then I reminded myself of what this woman had done—how she’d given credit to someone else for my work, after all my sweat and blood, after risking my physical well-being and, potentially, my freedom (if Toledo had called the police).

I walked past the receptionist and marched toward my godmother’s office. I opened the door without knocking. She lifted her head from a piece of paper where she was writing, startled. All I noticed were the glasses and the chignon.

“What are you doing?” she said, standing. “How dare you come in like that?”

“I came to collect my money and my film.”

She faltered for an instant, but then straightened her back and raised her chin. “You could’ve made an appointment, or at the very least, knocked.”

“That would be more kindness and respect than you’ve given me.”

She assessed me. “You’re just like your mother.”

I crossed my arms. “Really? How is that? When I was little, you didn’t seem to mind how she was.”

“I’m not going to discuss your mother with you.”

We held each other’s gaze. I wasn’t going to be the one to look away first. She opened the top drawer of her desk and removed a checkbook. She wrote an amount I couldn’t see and signed the check. Then, she opened another drawer and removed an envelope.

“We’ll print a correction in tomorrow’s edition.” She handed both things to me. “This concludes our business.”

Our business? The amount on the check was more generous than I had imagined, but hardly enough money for me to live on. Inside the envelope was my film, cut in four long rows.

She sat down, her hands rubbing the cognac leather arm’s rest. “I’d appreciate it if you closed the door behind you. And Valeria?”

I looked up from my purse, where I was inserting the check and the film.

“Stay away from my son.”

Oh, how I wanted to throw one of my shoes at her arrogant face, but instead, I took a deep breath.

Acting like a petulant brat would be beneath me.

The door burst open and Matías barged into the office, out of breath.

He looked around the office with a worried expression, as if trying to assess the damage to furniture or humans.

“Nobody knows how to knock anymore?” his mother said.

“Sorry.” He turned to me. “Are you all right?”

“She’s fine, Matías. She was just leaving.”

I walked to the door. As he started following me, his mother spoke again.

“Matías, please stay. I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.”

I nodded at him and left the office. Underneath my skirt, my legs were shaking.

I was filled with regret during my entire walk down the hall, during the elevator ride downstairs, and as I headed into the bright street.

I should’ve said this. I should’ve said that .

This had been my opportunity to find out what exactly had happened the night of February twelfth, but I’d been too proud, too upset to think strategically.

By the way she spoke of my mother, it had been more than apparent to me that she despised her, and the only logical conclusion was that, in fact, my mom and Matías’s dad were having an affair.

Women only hated in such a fierce way when it had to do with a man and a betrayal.

My years of reading literature and theater had taught me as much.

I turned to see if, by a miracle, Matías had followed me outside.

No such luck.

Given how much our families hated each other, a relationship between the two of us was impossible.

I felt like a modern-day Juliet immersed in one of my mom’s radionovelas .

It was a ridiculous situation. And yet, I’d never felt more drawn to Mati than I did now.

When I’d seen him at the newspaper, it had taken all my might not to throw myself at him and cover him with kisses.

My head was a jumble of contradicting ideas and feelings.

How was I going to deal with the Redhead Dilemma, aka my engagement?

I felt awful about kissing Matías during my engagement party, but also exhilarated because I’d been dreaming about that moment since I was ten years old.

I liked Félix—he was sweet, and he’d given me my Leica, the best gift anyone could’ve given me. And also a ring.

I glanced at it for a moment. If I broke off my engagement, I would have to return it to Félix.

But Matías hadn’t promised me anything. He’d only given me a kiss.

That didn’t mean he wanted to marry me, or even have a relationship with me.

And this check—I tightened my purse against my side—this money wasn’t enough to give me the independence I wanted.

It would be a good start, though.

There was a bank adjacent to Hotel Humboldt, the place where Toledo was staying.

Maybe I could open a savings account? Dona Amparito had one.

I’d gone with her several times to deposit money from the restaurant.

If I took more photos, I could sell them to other publications—it was obvious that Crónicas wouldn’t be conducting any further business with me.

But I didn’t think I wanted to specialize in stalking celebrities for gossip.

As I double-checked for any cars before crossing the street, I noticed him again. My shadow. The man who had been following me for days. For an instant, I’d thought—and hoped—it might be Matías, but the familiar beige gabardine told me it wasn’t him.

Enough of this!

I kept trudging along the curb until I walked past a narrow alleyway. I took a sharp turn and grabbed a rock in each hand. Sure enough, the man turned after me. I threw one of the rocks at his face. He let out a groan and brought a hand to his forehead.

“Who the hell are you?” I asked him. “Why have you been following me?”

Rubbing his forehead, he slowly removed his hat. “It’s me, Valeria …”

The voice was familiar. I immediately recognized his eyes. But what happened to his hair? It was almost all white, and his mustache had thickened.

I dropped the other rock.

“… your dad.”