RED 2: A Trick of Mirrors [#Wattys2017]

18. A Trick of Mirrors

That evening, dinner was a nostalgic ritual. New lacey blue dress, new ecru linen suit and a white T-shirt, silver earring, blue-faced watch, perfume, praise. Hand in hand like a couple in an early date. Without planning, Marisa and Marco revisited the past in a quiet bistro that invoked another from the time he was still her teacher. But in the present there wasn't fear of being seen together nor the ghost of Lorena: Marco's account had lifted a fog obscuring their relationship from the start.

Lorena's shadow had abandoned his body, it no longer marked his features with the scars of bitterness and his lost daughter. For a few hours, Marco and Marisa sufficed each other and their bond composed a painting of perfect colors. The composition shifted when the two caught sight of a couple in jeans and colorful tunics in the atrium: Zoe and Jean-Philippe. The two were looking for them to have champagne in Robert and Eliana's cabin before the Intrepid show.

At the mention of them, Marisa stiffened with no excuse for backing off. Zoe linked one arm to hers and they walked ahead while Marco and Jean-Philippe followed behind. The rustle of passengers and the music from the piano bar left a trail of joy Marisa was far from sharing. She felt ashamed of her dream and didn't dare face Robert as though their intimacy had been real. She felt ashamed of her disproportional reaction.

As for Eliana... In a flash, Marisa recalled Madame Lefèvre's prediction the previous month. She had discussed it with Valentina and decided it was nonsense. Amid the rush to pack, Marisa erased the fortuneteller from memory. Now her prediction returned with a wave of panic, more oppressive than ever.

Another woman is about to win Marco's heart.

Marisa's eyes clouded and for an instant her legs faltered. Squeezing Zoe's arm, she tried to control her qualm. She couldn't avoid Eliana and Robert indefinitely. It was nonsense, she said to herself. But upon entering their cabin on Deck 11, Marisa had a dejà vu feeling that renewed the acrid taste of bile and apprehension in the back of her mouth. A fluttering Eliana welcomed them in a dress with layers of sandy gauze. At each of her gestures, the gauze rustled while she rattled in a singsong voice how she had called their cabin but no one answered, how great it was that Zoe and Jean-Philippe had managed do find them, how they would pop a special champagne brought from Miami.

On cue, Robert showed them a bottle of Krug 1995 and Zoe whistled. Soon the cork leaped to the ceiling and the golden liquid cascaded to the glasses. Jean-Philippe and Zoe occupied the sofa, Marisa installed herself in the armchair with Marco by her side on a chair subtracted from the balcony. Eliana and Robert sat on the edge of the bed—he, in exceptionally good spirits, wore a jean shirt with rolled-up sleeves and seemed to unwind as the days progressed.

"So what's the occasion?" Jean-Philippe asked Robert.

"We're happy for taking this trip and making new friends. Let's toast to the unexpected paths life unravels."

So they did, and the champagne bubbled to the roof of the mouth with a refreshing note of honey and nuts. The open balcony door let in the starry night with the sea breeze and the murmur of the waters. They remained silent for a moment savoring their drinks.

Marisa loathed every minute. Alienating herself, she escaped by thinking of other things. The next morning they would stop at a private island in the Bahamas and she pictured herself running across the hot sand, open arms, all alone. She realized Marco was talking to her.

"Marisa likes indie rock, right, Mari?" He looked at her with what she deemed condescendence. "I'm past that phase but can still enjoy it."

"Indie rock is good in any phase." Robert smiled and turned on the MP3 player on the nightstand. "Have you listened to Food for Clouds, Marisa?