The previous night she had climbed into Richard’s bed to see how she felt beside him. She had needed to touch and smell him, to feel his energy. According to Daniela, when you sleep with someone the two energies are combined. This can be enriching for both, or can be very negative for the weaker of the two. “Just as well you didn’t sleep in the same bed as my papa, because your aura would have been burned to a cinder,” said Daniela. Sleeping with Richard, even when he was ill and in a flea-infested bed, had brought Lucia profound comfort. She was certain this man was for her. She had had an inkling of this for some time, possibly even before coming to New York; that was why she had accepted his offer, but she had been paralyzed by his apparent coldness. Richard was a mass of contradictions and would be incapable of taking the first step; she would have to take him by storm. He might reject her, but that would not be so serious, she had overcome greater reversals; it had to be worth trying. They had some years of life left and maybe she could convince him they should enjoy them together. The possibility of her cancer returning cast a shadow over her; all she could count on was the precious, fleeting present. She wanted to make the most of every day, because they were numbered and no doubt fewer than she hoped. There was no time to lose.
“She fell right next to the Picasso sculpture,” said Richard. “It was in the middle of the day. She was seen standing in the window, then jumping, and crashing into the pavement among the leaves. I killed Anita just as I killed Bibi. I’m guilty for being a drunk, for my negligence, for loving them much less than they deserved.”
“It’s time for you to forgive yourself, Richard. You’ve been paying for that guilt a long time.”
“Almost twenty-five years. And I can still feel the last kiss I gave Anita before leaving her on her own with her grief. A kiss that only brushed her cheek, because she turned her head from me.”
“That’s many years with your soul in winter and your heart locked away, Richard. That’s not a life. And the fearful man of those years is not you. In these last few days, when you were forced out of your comfort zone you were able to discover who you really are. It may be painful, but anything is better than being anesthetized.”
Richard had practiced meditation for years, and it had kept him sober. He had attempted to learn the principles of Zen, to be aware of the present moment, to start again with each new breath, but the ability to empty his mind escaped him. His life was not a succession of separate moments, it was a tangled story, a changing, chaotic, and imperfect tapestry he had woven day by day. His present was not a blank screen, it was packed with images, dreams, memories, shame, guilt, loneliness, pain, all his damned reality, as he told Lucia in whispers that night.
“But then you turn up and allow me to feel hurt for all I’ve lost, to laugh at my idiocy, and to weep like a small child.”
“It was time you did, Richard. Enough wallowing in the sorrows of the past. The only cure for so much misfortune is love. It’s not the force of gravity that keeps the universe in balance, but the binding power of love.”
“How could I have lived so many years alone and disconnected? I’ve been asking myself that for days now.”
“Because you are an idiot. What a way to waste time and life! You must have realized that I love you, haven’t you?” she laughed.
“I don’t know how you can love me, Lucia. I’m no one special, you’re going to be bored with me. And I carry with me the exhausting weight of my mistakes and omissions, and they’re a sackful of rocks.”
“No problem. I’ve got the muscles to sling your sack across my shoulder and throw it into the frozen lake so it disappears forever along with the Lexus.”
“Why have I lived, Lucia? Before I die I have to find out why I am in this world. What you say is true: I’ve been anesthetized for so long I’ve no idea where to start to live again.”
“I can help you if you’ll let me.”
“How?”
“It starts with the body. I suggest we bring the sleeping bags together and sleep curled up with one another. I need it as much as you do, Richard. I want you to put your arms around me, to feel safe and protected. How long are we going to tiptoe about so timidly, waiting for the other to take the first step? We’re too old for that, but perhaps we’re still young enough for love.”
“Are you sure, Lucia? I couldn’t bear it if—”
“Sure? I’m not sure of anything, Richard!” she cut in. “But we can try. What’s the worst that can happen? More suffering? That it doesn’t work out?”
“Let’s not think that, I couldn’t bear it.”
“I scared you . . . I’m sorry.”
“No, on the contrary, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before what my feelings are. This is so new, so unexpected, that I don’t know how to deal with it, but you’re much stronger and more clear-sighted than me. Come on, get into bed with me and let’s make love.”
“Evelyn is only a couple of feet away, and I’m a bit noisy. We’ll have to wait, but in the meantime we can cuddle with each other.”
“Do you know I spend hours talking to you in secret like a lunatic? That I picture you in my arms the whole time? I’ve wanted you for so long . . .”
“I don’t believe a word of it. You only noticed me last night, when I pushed myself into your bed. Before that you weren’t even aware of me,” she said with a laugh.
“I’m so glad you did, you shameless Chilean,” he said, crossing the short distance between them to give her a kiss.
They brought the sleeping bags together on one bed, joined the zips, and embraced each other fully dressed with unexpected desperation. That was all Richard was able to recall clearly later on. The rest of that magical night was preserved forever in a perfect nebula. Lucia on the other hand swore she remembered every last detail. In the following days and years she would tell him them little by little, always with a different version and more audacious with each retelling, until her story verged on the unbelievable, because they could not have performed all the acrobatics she described without waking Evelyn. “It’s true, even if you don’t believe me,” she would maintain. “Perhaps Evelyn pretended to be asleep but was spying on us.” Richard thought they must have kissed long and hard, then taken off their clothes in the restricted space of their sleeping bags, explored each other’s body as best they could without making any noise, as stealthily and excitedly as two youngsters making love in some dark corner. What he did remember was that she climbed on top of him and he could run his hands over her, surprised at her taut, warm skin, at this body he could only dimly make out in the flickering candlelight, a body that was slenderer, more docile, and younger than it seemed when she had her clothes on. “These chorus girl’s breasts are now mine, Richard, they cost me enough,” Lucia whispered in his ear, suppressing her laughter. That was what was best about her, that laugh like clear water that cleansed him inside and swept his doubts away.