En otro corazón

Cuando acababa el verano, se iban con él los sabores más dulces. Se acababan las risas del mar, las sandías en la playa, los helados de turrón y almendras, el chocolate derretido por el calor, el abrazo del sol... Se volvía a congelar la infancia, y se sucedían las prisas, los acelerones y el estrés. Se mudaba el armario por prendas algo más sofisticadas y los vestidos de tirantes se apretaban en el baúl de la ropa de uso ocasional.

Cristina aseguró su bolso al hombro y salió del portal. Hacía una mañana fría, aunque aún comenzase Septiembre, y tuvo que enroscarse al cuello un pañuelo largo que la abrigase. Se cruzó con Pablo al final de la avenida, como calculaba desde sus años de instituto, y continuó el trayecto arrancándole palabras perezosas.

La melena rubia de Pablo se erizaba sobre sus hombros como las olas del mar sobre las rocas. Todo en él era océano. Sus ojos marinos, sus labios salados, su pelo dorado, su cuerpo emborrachado de sol y sus piernas fuertes, eran la personificación más perfecta del mar. En la universidad era reclamo de miradas indiscretas y comentarios atrevidos, pero él simulaba no darse cuenta. No le gustaba encabezar la lista de “los solteros más cotizados”. Por eso, quizá, no desmentía los rumores de que Cristina y él salían juntos. No era ella con quien soñaba las horas muertas y los días tristes, pero de ese modo evitaba debates apasionados entre sus admiradoras.

Cristina intentó arañar sus recuerdos.

–¿Verdad que fue divertido este verano?

–Sí, no estuvo mal.

Y silencio, de nuevo.

Se aproximaban a la entrada de la facultad y el reguero de alumnos los cercaban por todos los frentes. Se mantuvieron juntos, brazo con brazo, con miedo a despegarse antes de acceder al edificio.

Cristina saludó a sus amigos sin detenerse, justificándose con una mirada rápida a su acompañante, y comentó con Pablo la salida de la tarde.

–Acuérdate que la cena era a las nueve. Tomás cocinará esta vez y ha preparado una repostería impresionante... y una mesa de cócteles.

–Sí... –Pablo sonrió, con poco entusiasmo–. Aunque quizá ande ocupado, ya sabes.

–¡No se te ocurra faltar! Prometiste que vendrías. Diana me preguntó anoche por ti y Sofía y Fernando te apuntaron en la invitación. Además, hace mucho que no los ves.

–Sí, lo sé.

Se encogió de hombros, sin argumentos ni disculpas, y se despidió de Cristina como hacía siempre al alcanzar las escaleras de la cafetería.

–Tengo que desayunar antes de entrar en clase, lo siento. Nos vemos a la salida –y subió con grandes zancadas, en una huida evidente.

Cristina abrazó su carpeta y suspiró. Aunque se sabía observada, no retuvo las lágrimas. ¿Qué estaba ocurriendo? Porque había algo mal, eso era evidente. Desde los últimos días del viaje a casa de Pablo, su humor parecía arrastrarse por los suelos. Con desesperación, tecleó en su móvil un mensaje a Diana.

Convence tú a Pablo para la cena, a mí no me hace caso.

Mientras tanto, Pablo meditaba delante de la taza de café. El desayuno era su momento preferido, porque estaba solo y con la mente despierta.

En la taza, removía el azúcar y sus ganas de fiesta. Estaba atragantado de frustración. Había escuchado una conversación confidencial y el secreto le escocía el alma. Quizá Fernando estuviese equivocado y nada de lo que le había contado a Sofía era cierto. Pero, ¿cómo iba a saberlo, si todo parecía apuntar a que era acierto?

Aún le preocupó más pensar en Cristina. No estaba siendo del todo sincero con ella. Ya le había dejado claro otras veces que sólo eran buenos amigos. Era cierto que la amaba, pero de un modo distinto al que ella deseaba. Cristina estaba en su otro corazón, en el del día a día, en el de las risas, los buenos ratos, las anécdotas... En definitiva, en el corazón de su historia. Pero no podía pasar de ahí, aunque a veces le hubiese parecido lo más fácil.

Apuró el café y se levantó, al fin decidido. Si no descubría si las palabras de Fernando eran ciertas, no descansaría de atormentarse. Escribió a Cristina. No tenía mucho más que perder y, aunque no le atrajese la idea de reencontrarse con su dolor fantasma, por ella, asistiría a la cena.

                                                           - In another heart -

When the summer ended, its sweetest flavors ended with it. The sea’s laughter, the watermelons on the beach, the turron and almond ice cream, the chocolate melted by the heat, the sun’s warm hug… Childhood was freezing over again, and was being replaced by the hurries, the sprints, and the stress. The closet was moving to hold more sophisticated clothes, and the strappy dresses were being crammed into the trunk of occasional use clothing.

Cristina secured her purse to her shoulder and walked out of her doorway. It was a cold week, even though September had only just begun, and she had to coil a long handkerchief around her neck to keep her warm. She bumped into Pablo at the end of the avenue, as she had calculated since she was in high school, and continued the walk extracting lazy words from him.

Pablo’s blonde hair perked up over his shoulders like waves breaking over rocks. Everything about him was an ocean. His sea-blue eyes, his salty lips, his golden hair, his body drunk with sun, and his strong legs were the most perfect personification of the sea. In college, he was the subject of indiscreet looks and bold comments, but he pretended not to notice. He didn’t like to head the list of “Most Eligible Bachelors.” Which is why, perhaps, he never denied the rumors that he and Cristina were dating. She wasn’t the one he dreamed about on gloomy days, but that way he avoided passionate debates amongst his fans.

Cristina tried to scratch his memories, “Wasn’t this summer fun?”

“Yea, it wasn’t bad.” And again, silence.

They were nearing their college, and the rush of students was enclosing them from all sides. They remained together, arm-to-arm, afraid to separate before reaching the building.

Cristina said hi to her friends without stopping, justifying herself with a furtive look at her companion, and commented with Pablo on that afternoon’s outing. “Remember that dinner was at nine. Tomas will cook this time and he prepared an amazing dessert… and a cocktail table.”

“Yea…” Pablo smiled, with little enthusiasm, “although I might be busy, you know.”

“Don’t you dare miss it! You promised you’d come. Diana asked me about you last night and Sofia and Fernando put you down on the invite list. Besides, it’s been a while since you don’t see them.”

“Yea, I know,” he shrugged, without arguing or apologizing, and said goodbye to Cristina as he always did when they reached the stairs to the cafeteria. “I have to have breakfast before we go to class, I’m sorry. I’ll see you later.” And he went up the stairs with huge strides, very blatantly fleeing.

Cristina hugged her binder and sighed. Although she felt herself being watched, she couldn’t hold back the tears. What was happening? Because something was wrong, that was obvious. Ever since the last days of the trip to Pablo's house, her mood seemed to be dragging through the floor. She grabbed her cell phone and desperately typed a message to Diana.

You convince Pablo to go to dinner. He’s not listening to me.

Meanwhile, Pablo meditated in front of his coffee mug. Breakfast was his favorite time of the day, because he was alone and his mind was awake.

In his mug, he stirred the sugar and his willingness to party. He was choking with frustration. He had overheard a private conversation and the secret burned in his soul. Maybe Fernando was wrong and nothing that he had told Sofia was true. But why would it be, if everything seemed to be pointing to the fact that it was true?

He was even more worried when he thought about Cristina. He wasn’t being completely honest with her. He had already let her know on several occasions that they were only good friends. It was true that he loved her, but in a totally different way than what she hoped for. Cristina was in his other heart, the day-to-day one, the one with the laughs, the good times, the memories… Ultimately, in the heart of his history. And she couldn’t get out of it, even though at times it would have seemed like the easiest thing.

He finished his coffee and got up, finally making a decision. Until he found out if Fernando's words were true, he wouldn’t stop tormenting himself. He texted Cristina. He didn’t have much more to lose, and, even though the idea of reencountering his ghostly pain didn’t really appeal to him, he would go to the dinner.

Traducido por: Carolina Rodríguez García