Ah, Noelia

I knew she loved me—I just needed to convince her of that.

I woke up with the sun shining on my face through the gaps left by the curtains, my entire apartment painted in golden hues. I was never a superstitious person, but this was, without a doubt, a good omen. Somewhere across Madrid, I knew the same sun shone on Noelia's freckles. Deep in her mind, even if not wholly conscious of this fact, she was also thinking of me.

Today would be the day. I would finally call Noelia and set things right—it would be the first day of the next chapter of our lives.

I went directly to the shower, and I left my bodily fluids flow as I thought of her and of her skin and of her curves.

I ate the usual bread I eat every morning, with peanut butter and strawberry jam-An exotic combination that is her favorite. I still remember the time when we met, completely perchance, in the supermarket. She was buying peanut butter, and I was too.

I left, then, the kitchen, and admired her photographs on the wall. I called it Noelia's Wall, for it was precisely that.

That photo in the Parque del Oeste, when she was eating ice cream, wearing her leopard print sunglasses, looking at the opposite side. This was her natural beauty at its apex.

Another photograph depicted her about to enter her Audi, her face somewhat contorted into a frown. The midday sun shone high, Noelia's forehead sweating.

And my favorite one: Our photograph. It was the best night of our lives, and I can recollect every single moment of it. This picture crystallizes my feelings into a single object, being my most valuable treasure. In it, I lie on the bed beside Noelia, who sleeps tight. Her freckled face is turned to me, her white shirt still stained with vomit.

I sighed—infatuated.

Ah, Noelia.

I peeked down at the street and saw children going to school, and the traffic forming as tiny cells in the organism that is this city.

I noticed the broad smile on my face, reflecting on the window.

Everything would be perfect. Everything should be perfect.

I grabbed my phone and called Noelia's boyfriend.

***

"Hello?"

"Hey. It's me."

"It's me who?"

"Javier."

He hung up.

***

So I tried again, of course.

***

"What the hell do you want?"

"I just want to talk to Noelia."

"Well, douchebag, she doesn't want to talk to you."

"But it's important, it's—"

"I don't care. Stop calling us. For Christ's sake."

"But it's been two—"

"Yeah, I know, it's been two months since you last called us. So make it two years now. Or twenty years. Better yet: Never. Call. Us. Again."

I swallowed hard. I knew he liked me, but he was a tough nut to crack.

"Look, I just—"

"Dude," he said, interrupting me again. "I'm tired of your shit. So is Noelia. It's been six years."

I didn't say anything.

"Stop calling us. Or I'll call the cops."

***

Well, it didn't go as I had planned.

So I called Noelia's cell phone instead.

***

"Hi," she said, sounding tired. Was she taking night shifts?

"Hello. I just want... To tell you something."

She remained mute, so I asked, "Noelia?"

"I'm listening."

"I just want to tell you I'm sorry."

"Yeah," she said.

I gulped, then I went on. "I'm sorry for not being the one you really wanted, for making you really, really sad. For hurting you. But... I know you're with someone now—"

"Yes, I am."

"—and... That I wish all the best for you. If you want to talk to me any time—"

"I don't."

"—then you know how to reach me."

Silence.

"Javier, sometimes I really worry about you. And about the things you might do."

I smiled the very smile that only blooms in the spring. "Do you? Do you worry about me?"

"Oh, man... it's not what you're thinking. It's never what you're thinking. It's been six years since we had something. And it was only a night, for fuck's sake." This was her way of convincing herself of this, all right. "We weren't made for each other." We were, of course. "And when you started showing up at places, then it started to get creepy." This is her boyfriend manipulating her thoughts. She didn't believe this for real.

Noelia sighed.

"So stop. I mean it. Stop calling me. Stop stalking me. Move on."

"All right."

She took a while to answer. "Really? Will you really stop?"

"Yeah."

"Then I hope you're telling the truth this time. Goodbye, Javier."

"See you, Noelia."

And she hung up.

***

I yelled out of excitement and joy. She still loved me!

I couldn't believe it, but she still loved me all right. I started to dance around the apartment, like a little boy who finally got what he wanted.

I threw myself on the bed and faced the ceiling, the broad smile on my face. And I was still smiling when I grabbed the revolver.

Only three bullets inside, but I would only need one. I put it on my desk, searched the balaclava in the drawer, and I placed it beside the gun.

The sun shone on the revolver—the golden sun over Madrid.

Despite the heat, I put on a jacket and hid the revolver and the balaclava in its pockets.

Then I left my home.

***

It was already evening when I came back without the balaclava and without the revolver. They were somewhere down the Manzanares River now.

I waited till twilight, till the very first night sky of this season, then I called Noelia.

***

"You," she said.

"Noelia, I heard—"

"It was you, wasn't it?"

"Was I what?"

"You murdered him. You fucking murdered him!"

"Noelia, I don't know what you're talking—"

"You stalking creepy motherfucker. You'll rot in jail! I'll fucking make you pay for this," and raw emotion already consumed her words. She was crying. She was crying for me. "I swear it."

And she hung up.

***

I didn't do it, of course.

The bullet that hit her boyfriend's skull was shot by a criminal wearing balaclava—the same man who robbed her purse.

The purse that now sits on my desk.

You know, hate and love walk hand in hand. Two faces of the same coin. The real antithesis of falling in love is apathy—not feeling anything at all. This is dangerous.

But Noelia... Noelia's emotions exploded for me.

I went to bed, smiling, knowing that this would be the best spring of my life. 

Without her boyfriend, Noelia's heart was open again.

And I knew she loved me—I just needed to convince her of that.