The Cracks in the Labyrinth

Chapter 17 (Part 2)

Their breathing was loud in the pregnant silence after Adam slid his thumb on the screen to accept the incoming call. He was eager to find out if his old friend truly was on the other side of the phone, but he refused to make the first move. Why her? He wondered. What's her relationship with Lili? Is she her client? Her friend?

"Where is he?" she asked as a way of greeting. He could almost hear the frown in her voice. Okay, so not friends, or at least not in good terms. But what did this mean for him? "Tell me!"

It sounded like her. But could he be sure? They hadn't spoken in forever.

"Fine. Don't want to talk?" she continued. "Then, this is over."

"Hello?" He had to clear his throat before he could speak. "Hi."

This time it was her who remained silent for a while. "Who's this?"

"Hey, Vera."

"Adam?" A long pause. "Oh, no!" She clicked her tongue and mumbled a series of fucks, shits, and this-can't-be-happening. "This was a mistake."

"No, no, no." He rushed to stop her as soon as he suspected she would hang up. "Wait!"

Transfixed, he searched for the right words. And there, under the ever-vigilant red eyes of the white rabbit, he headed towards the balcony only because he wasn't sure what to do next. He put his fingers between the slats of the shutters over the glass door and took a peek outside. Instead of the beautiful Ávila mountain he'd seen last night from the bay window at his old apartment, he found countless little amorphous shacks covering the nameless hills that surrounded the city like tumorous lesions. Their stained zinc rooftops and uneven brick walls stretching as far as the edge of the horizon. Overpopulated and traversed by sinuous, narrow roads that often led nowhere, the anarchic architecture of these squatter areas, their impossible corners and sharp edges, and their Penrose stairs had always made Adam think of the famous lithograph called Relativity by the Dutch artist M. C. Escher. At least it did when he was still in college. Now it reminded him more of a slow landslide that had almost buried all Caracas. Or a growing parasite that could kill its host at any moment.

He snapped the slats shut and backed away. How long had they been quiet? A minute? An hour? Why had neither of them uttered another word? Adam wasn't sure.

"Bye," she said, breaking the silence.

"Please, I... I..." Tears welled up behind his eyes. Looking for what to say, he'd found something unexpected—sadness. What's wrong with me? Loneliness had never felt as heavy as it did now. Once he heard a familiar voice, he realized how much all these years of seclusion had weighed on him. "I've been trying to contact you."

"Me? I have tried to find you for months! But she wouldn't tell me where you were."

"Who? Lili?"

"Who's Lili?"

A fog of doubts and uncertainty clouded his thoughts.

"Who were you calling?"

"It is too late, Adam. If you are there..." It seemed she was struggling to prevent her emotions from taking over. "Time's up for you, for me. Every one of us... fucked!"

"Why?"

"I am not telling you shit. They got to you."

"Vera, it's me. I know we haven't been in touch, but I'm still me."

She let out a mirthless laugh. "Sure about that?"

"This makes no sense."

"Bye, Adam."