Page 57 of The Night We Became Strangers

Matías

R ight when I was getting ready to walk away, the door to the Anzures household finally opened. To my surprise, instead of the maid I’d encountered in the morning, Valeria herself was the one to open the door. She was wearing a simple linen shirtdress, not the white gown I had expected to see.

Did I get the date wrong? I searched behind her head for any guests.

She smiled. “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked, perplexed.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Shouldn’t you be at your wedding celebration?”

Sighing, she took a step outside and quietly closed the door behind her.

“There’s been a change of plans.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I changed my mind.”

“But there was nobody at the church. Did everyone change their minds?”

She chuckled. “No. Just me. I was on my way to the hair salon this morning, but instead, I went to see the Recaldes and had a talk with Félix.”

“Is that so?” I held her hand. “That took a lot of bravery.”

“I suppose.” She ambled down the curb. “Of course, nobody here is speaking to me, except for Joselito.”

“Your little cousin?”

“Yes. Even Graciela is mortified, because she invited her friends from school, and Germán had asked the girl he likes to the wedding. Everyone was looking forward to the celebration.”

I caressed her cheek. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m glad you canceled it.”

She smiled, biting her lower lip. “Why did you go to the church?”

“I don’t know. I was going to stop the ceremony somehow.”

“You were?” She grinned. “How?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t have a concrete plan. Somewhere along the lines of screaming your name from the church’s entrance, like a radionovela hero, or maybe—for a more dramatic effect—I could have punched Félix, carried you over my shoulder, and stolen you.”

She laughed. “I think I would’ve preferred yelling from the main entrance. Félix doesn’t deserve to be punched.”

“How did he take the news?”

We reached the end of the block, and she leaned on a light post. “Relatively well. He didn’t cuss at me or anything, but he seemed upset.

In the long run, he’ll probably be glad that I canceled instead of not showing up at the church at all.

His mother, however, wasn’t too happy with the idea of canceling the wedding the same day.

She said we now owe them the money for the flowers, the dress, the food, and the invitations, which of course, infuriated my aunt and uncle.

I feel so bad about it, but I couldn’t go along with the farce. ”

A couple walked past us and stared. Valeria lowered her head.

“Disgruntled guests?” I asked in a low voice.

“Yes. Our neighbors. Can we go somewhere else?”

She held my hand, ready to go.

“Wait a second,” I said. “I want to give you something.”

I pulled out her Kodak Brownie from the pocket of my jacket.

She covered her mouth. “What? How did you get this?” She hugged me and gave me a smack on the cheek before I could give her an explanation.

On our way to the plaza, I told her all about my encounter with Alejandro Toledo and how he’d given me her camera back.

She was ecstatic and wanted to know every detail.

We stopped by an ice cream cart for helados de paila .

The vendor was an old man whom we’d met as kids.

I was hoping Valeria would remember that our mothers used to bring us here when we were small.

Her radiant smile confirmed that she did.

We sat on a nearby bench, holding our cones.

“What made you change your mind about the wedding?” I asked.

She licked her lower lip, which was turning into a deep burgundy from the blackberry. “I heard you on the radio.”

The heat rose to my face. I’d been drunk last night. I couldn’t even recall everything I said during that ridiculous radio contest. Something corny about my feelings for her and that overly dramatic song that had become sort of a lovers’ anthem. I shoved vanilla ice cream into my mouth.

“I was already thinking about breaking off the engagement,” she said, “but hearing you on the radio only confirmed my decision. And then, the last push came this morning in the taxi when I heard ‘Nuestro Juramento’ on the radio.”

She watched me with a wide smile.

I felt like an idiot, so I just finished my ice cream in silence.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It was sweet.” She rested her head on my arm, watching me with amusement. “You wouldn’t believe where I was when I heard you.”

“Where?”

“In the waiting room of a hospital.”

“What were—?”

“My dad. He’s very sick.”

No wonder I couldn’t find him in more than a dozen hostels and hotels. “What’s wrong with him?”

She told me about his emphysema and how it might have started the night of the broadcast after inhaling all that smoke. The doctor had told them some people had it for years and didn’t know it until the symptoms became more obvious.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Are you going to go to Lima with him?”

“I’m not sure. We didn’t talk about that.” She turned back to her cone. “But I found out a lot about what happened the night of the broadcast between our parents.”

She proceeded to tell me a story that completed my mother’s tale and gave me a clearer picture of what had happened that night.

“My mom mentioned the scarf in the box,” I said.

“The one with the doves?”

“Yes. Apparently, she’d given it to your mom and found it in my dad’s car. That was the last proof she needed to confirm her suspicions.”

She was pensive for a moment, her ice cream mostly untouched. “I have an idea.”

“What?” I said, fearing she may be recruiting me for another one of her adventures.

She tossed the last of her ice cream in a nearby trash can and stood up. “We have to go.”