Yesterday (Part One - Chapters 17 & 18) (Patreon)
Content
CHAPTER 17
Laura was quite wide-eyed but her gaze was absent.
She was unable to blink. For the whole morning she had been in a dense trance that kept her away from reality.
Everything was happening before her eyes like in a movie at different speeds.
At times, her surroundings seemed to slow down. Other times she jumped from one situation to another unexpectedly.
Laura wondered over and over again why she was in that state. She told herself that all she needed to wake up was courage, a simple snap of her fingers or a gesture of will, but the truth was that she felt unable to escape from that paralyzing tangle.
She waited resignedly. She didn't think of anything concrete, her brain was numb, lost in a blur that forced her to ramble and watch everything with her eyes wide open, almost dry, about to turn into crystal balls.
Eva was sitting beside her. Couldn't look at her. She didn't know what to tell her. She felt nothing. Instead, Eva seemed to feel everything. She was a stranger, and Laura realized that what really surprised her was that she was finally behaving like an adult. She pushed the thought away and turned her attention to her father. He looked shattered and absent, she bet that no one who did not know him well would notice. "He's the kind of man who knows how to keep his composure in any situation." She felt sorry for him. "What a pity that nothing is allowed to be felt, not even this," she told herself. The irony is that she herself had fallen into the same trap, she reasoned later, as a prey to her own personal limbo as she was.
The priest continued with the funeral prayer, and Laura was unable to find coherence or calm in any of his words. The scene seemed increasingly unreal to her, and she was again flying away with her imagination when Eva took her hand. She let herself be grabbed, though somewhat upset by the urge with which she did it. She forced herself to raise her gaze to the sky. It was a splendid day, fortunately she was wearing the sunglasses that Eva had lent her before they left home.
The coffin glowed, its dark wood seemed to drink all the sun and sweat it out of the corners. Ebony? Mahogany?
She was clueless, hadn't heard anything. Someone had arranged everything without her. The priest spoke at that moment of souls and heaven. Laura wondered again, as she used to do in such situations, if there really was anything after death.
Could it have been her imagination? Was she crazy?
Many times she would be surprised to think about these things, looking involuntarily for meaning. She summed up and made up in her mind what she had seen and felt near the dead, before and after they died. She had studied, she had read about it, but she had no way of reaching a conclusion. At least not in words.
Would she see her mother?
The thought of it horrified her, for it involuntarily made her mentally travel and imagine for a moment what would it be inside that dark, shiny coffin. She perceived the carefully dug hole beneath it, the moist, spongy, greedy earth and the juicy grass surrounding the grave, and could not help but travel in time with her imagination until several weeks later. She visualized herself there, alone and seated in front of the tomb, involuntarily entering with her mind inside the box.
Hollow. Dark. Cold.
She tried to blink with all her might, escape that morbid dreaming and regain her attention in the present moment. Her insides felt burning. Perhaps a flinch slipped out of his grasp, as his sister squeezed her hand tighter. She felt her other hand on her chin, drawing her face closer to her.
––Are you all right, Laura? –– Eva muttered.
Laura made a superhuman effort and fixing her attention on her nodded.
––Here, wipe your tears ––. Eva told her by putting a handkerchief in her hand.
Tears?
Laura stared at her astonished, and barely escaping her trance she realized that she had been crying.
It took her a few minutes to recover, relieved to feel she owned her thoughts again. The shock of being able to grieve over it had hit her hard. Maybe there would be hope for her after all. She was so accustomed to her self-image that discovering that she still had personality traits left to explore seemed like a sign of good luck. A primitive optimism invaded her, a seed of a kind of happiness she had forgotten. She let her gaze climb over the green horizon and an echo of her childhood flooded in. She felt calm, comforted and, without realizing it, a smile was drawn on her face.
It lasted only a moment, just until Eva took her out of her dream again with a pinch.
––They'll think you've gone mad, behave yourself! –– whispered Eva.
The funeral ended and everyone said their goodbyes as they left the cemetery, except for some family and friends who accompanied the family home for a short brunch, in the American tradition. Martha had always missed the habit of giving a small reception after the funerals, and they thought it would be nice to do it for her.
The morning bustle passed, they ate frugally and finally the two sisters and their father were left home alone.
Laura managed, not without effort, to control herself and overcome that heavy trance in which she had been immersed all morning. They offered her some anti-anxiety medication, but she turned it down. Seeing Eva so strong gave her courage. In fact, she was a little angry with herself for having reacted like that.
She and her sister were sitting in the living room when her father came in, and leaning on the doorknob stared at them as he rushed a cigarette.
––Dad, don't smoke please –– Eva reprimanded him.
Laura shuddered, remembering that image, but not in exactly the same circumstances. His father walked into the room and approached them crestfallen. He looked tired, with a gloomy mood. He reluctantly extinguished the cigarette in an ashtray on the coffee table and put his hand on Eva's shoulder with his eyes on Laura.
––Eva, I need you to leave your sister and me alone for a few minutes –– he asked quietly ––. Please.
––Yes, of course, Dad –– Eva faltered in surprise. She gave Laura a fleeting kiss on the cheek and walked out of the room in a daze.
Laura felt overwhelmed by her father's stone-cold gaze, who stepped forward and sat down in front of her. She decided to take the initiative and stand up for herself just in case.
––Is there something wrong, Dad? If it's about the funeral, I…
––Forget it, Laura –– He interrupted her while shaking his head ––. It has nothing to do with that, I have something to say, and I don't want you to interrupt me, because I know that if I don't do it now, I will never do it.
Laura felt her stomach shrink into a fist and nodded in fright trying to interpret his gaze. A thousand crazy ideas ran through her mind at full speed.
She had never seen her father like this, nor recognized the look he gave her before starting to speak:
––Jonah is alive.
CHAPTER 18
The lazy light kept the room in the dark. The light bulb on the bedside table was heating up, and little by little he felt the white walls stained with his shy but warm glow.
He stretched his arm without opening his eyes and with his fingertips he reached between the sheets for Eva's warmth, but she was not there; perhaps she was up by now, he thought. He felt asleep again. The pillow wrapped around him, loving and soft. Waking up again, he gave thanks for all that tranquility.
But something wasn't quite right. A tiny thought fluttered over his sleepy mind. Was it still dark?
He decided to sleep a little longer.
It was a gift to wake up like that, why not wait a little longer? Did he set his alarm the night before?
Thinking about it, he realized that without making sure whether or not he had programmed it the night before he would not be able to sleep peacefully. He decided to check it out. Slowly he opened his eyes, but decided to close them again and grope his cell phone across the bedside table. But it wasn't there. Would it have slipped off?
The light on the bedside table continued to increase in intensity, but it did not harm his eyes, so he decided to give himself one more minute. It was so nice there.
But a restlessness was growing again in his mind and, despite the laziness of getting up, he decided to make a new effort.
“First open your eyes, let's not rush into anything”.
Little by little he opened them up, and as they got used to the light, he realized that something else had changed. It must be the light bulb, he thought. A new one, a new color. Some of Eva's eco-experiments..
Everything was cream-colored, the shadows were caramel-colored. It was nice, though a little dark for his taste. Even so, the light emanating from his side was powerful. Odd. Had to ask her where she bought it.
He stared at the ceiling, adjusting his pupils to the light. Inadvertently, meditating.
“What time will it be?”.
In fact, perhaps it was the glare, but he thought that even the ceiling looked beautiful, immense. He had never paid close attention to it, but at that moment it seemed like an infinite white, as if instead of plaster, it was covered with a sugar glaze, with small shimmering specks of frost. He imagined he was disintegrating and outdoors.
He loved snoozing, everything became so ethereal.
Without realizing it, he closed his eyes again. Images began to float through his consciousness, illuminating his mind with a dance of elusive silhouettes. He lost control, fell asleep.
He sat up suddenly, dragging the sheets behind him, panting and drenched in sweat. An image of the dream struggled to survive. He tried to catch his breath.
A road with white lines lit up, sinuous, rapidly approaching like a snake. Everything was still moving around him, spinning slowly without finally solidifying. He was still feeling dizzy.