RED 2: A Trick of Mirrors [#Wattys2017]

34. Little Death, Last Breath

Aquamarine, Day 5

Back in the cabin, Marisa paced back and forth in wait until she dropped on the sofa. She was drained. Her restless mind, however, wouldn't allow her peace. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Marco and Eliana again. One hour unfolded into two and he didn't return. Marisa gave in to a volatile sleep populated with images both real and imagined. The open curtains in the alcove, the naked bodies of Marco and Eliana. The two in the cafeteria, his hand on hers. The two in the forest, clandestine kisses, caresses. The two in the solarium, their heads touching, silhouettes mingling in shade and light, black and white garments, fair and dark skin, her arms around him with an authority acquired in the past days and crystallized that moment.

Marisa woke up with a startle, and the dim of the solarium was engulfed by the brightness in the cabin. The clock on the bedstand marked six on the dot. The events of the eve flashed back to her memory prolonging the nightmare. She glanced around and spotted Marco on the balcony chair, in the same position as the previous evening. But another day had dawned and Marco was no longer the same men previously sitting there.

She approached him, tension melting away her sleepiness and rendering her instantly alert.

"We need to talk, Marco."

He still wore the faded jeans and white T-shirt. Like a harsh chisel, the shadow of a stubble toughened his well-defined jawline and square chin. He had toughened. Marco rose and walked to the door.

"I was only waiting for you to wake up. We have nothing to discuss, Marisa. You made your decision and I made mine. You'd better talk to Eliana. She's in her cabin packing."

The words, the clipped speech shook off Marisa's haze. So Marco dismissed her just like that. Resentment gushed through her, and it hurt so much she hardly managed to breathe. A minute ago, Marisa would have crawled for him. She was a fool for believing in Marco's love and those stupid flowers—probably a parting gift and not a sign of reconciliation, just like the kiss on the dance floor and the conciliatory arm on her shoulder when she caught him debating Eliana's divorce.

It sufficed to review Marco's personal history to understand his dynamics. He stayed with Lorena till the very end, feeling responsible for her, persuaded that he loved her in order to endure a failed marriage. The same was happening now. Marco was reluctant to leave Marisa without support and, thus, deluded himself and her with the fiction of a love that no longer existed. But he did distance himself, perhaps in an attempt to drive her away and avoid the guilt of abandoning her. Marco must have been relieved to see her with Robert. That was the perfect pretext for breaking up.

Robert had warned her indeed: Marco didn't waste time to fall into Eliana's arms. His indignation was nothing more than wounded male pride. He no longer wanted her nor would he accept that another man did. Marisa forgot her guilt and retained Marco, sinking her fingers into his arm as if to pierce it.

"You've got to listen to me. Even if it's for the last time."

He lowered his gaze to her hand and then looked Marisa in the eye.

"I'm gonna have breakfast. I'll see you in two hours for disembarking."

At Marco's gelid tone, she dropped her hand. He exited and Marisa kept staring at the door, unable to move. Her anger faded into sadness when she realized Marco couldn't stand her presence. He'd rather leave to Eliana the announcement that the two were officially together.

Marisa couldn't feel her own footsteps as she entered the shower, leaving the time to slip away with the water while she postponed facing Eliana. At last, she reluctantly stood by the closet, skimming the clothes on the left in their rectilinear blacks, whites and grays until pausing on the chaos of bright colors to the right. That arrangement was yet another detail of her shared life with Marco about to be formally buried.

She pulled from the shelf a pair of shorts and a gray tank top, got dressed and, numb, headed to Deck 11. She predicted Eliana would wish her all the happiness in the world with Robert, whereas she and Marco would enjoy their own newly-found bliss. Brimming with smiles, Eliana would stress the fortuitous coincidence: they would all live happily ever after in a beautiful fairytale, the two princes with their swapped princesses.

When she answered the door, however, Marisa was confronted with a different woman from the one she had expected. Eliana didn't show any sign of sophistication and sparkle. Barefoot in a plain green cotton dress, with no jewelry or makeup, she had her hair tied in a loose bun on the verge of collapsing. She wasn't surprised to see Marisa and, waving for her to come in, preceded her to the living area.

Before they sat on the sofa, Eliana unexpectedly hugged her. Even though she was taller, she seemed to Marisa almost fragile.

"I'm glad you came. I hope it's not too late."

Marisa took the seat beside her, disconcerted and cautious. She caught her breath and began: "Marco told me to talk to you. About last night—"

"We have a lot to discuss, Marisa."

"Where's Robert?"

"I don't know. We had another argument half an hour ago and he left slamming the door."

"Eliana, I'm sorry for what happened. I would never get involved with Robert if he hadn't mentioned you guys are getting a divorce. Besides..." Marisa hesitated and forced herself to go on. "Marco fell in love with you, isn't so? I saw you two last night in the solarium."

A gleam crossed Eliana's gaze, and she shook her head.

"He was furious. I tried to calm him down."

"I can't blame him for being furious." Marisa lowered her eyes. "I love Marco. I don't know what got me into that."

"I owe you an apology. It wasn't my intention to meddle in your relationship with Marco. We got closer again and I sought his support as I was distressed and needed to talk to someone. Marco's company comforted me from the first day because it reminded me of a happier time in my life." For an instant, Eliana's face rejuvenated only to cloud over again. "This trip has been difficult for all of us. I must forgive Robert, I don't want to be poisoned by hatred. But there's still one piece missing to solve the puzzle, Marisa: you. You can't get involved with Robert."

"I don't understand where this is going." 

Marisa questioned if Eliana was as torn between Marco and Robert as she herself had been. The situation of both turned out to be identical: a relationship falling apart while the possibility of another rose on the horizon. Marisa, however, couldn't see the horizon any longer. She had been caught in that maelstrom, tumbling underwater without knowing where the sky was and where was the bottom of the sea. Nothing made sense anymore. The only thing that made sense was Marco—Marco lost somewhere on the horizon she was unable to see.

Eliana let out a sigh that sounded akin to a death-rattle, and in that infinitesimal movement her mask slipped off. Behind it, one could glimpse a bloodless face. It was ugly.

"Once you listen to me, you'll understand exactly where this is going."