Catalina Stays the Night

Sitting on a bench at the Sabana Station in Bogotá, waiting for the train to Zipaquirá, Ernesto saw a girl emerge from behind a column, wearing a turban on her head and carrying a shimmering red purse. He watched her approach, dragging two large gray suitcases, unsure whether to offer help.

She stopped in front of him, her lips slightly parted and her eyes filled with wonder.

"I'm Catalina, don't you recognize me?"

Ernesto shook his head, betraying a hint of emotion.

"Where did we last meet?"

"At the Hotel Diamant in Martinique. You spoke excellent French as well."

"My dear, you surprise me! I was on that island a few years ago, but I don't remember that place."

"You've forgotten who you were with?"

"What a strange coincidence; you must be talking about someone who looks like me."

"Maybe, perhaps I'm mistaken..."

"If you like, we can continue to address each other informally," Ernesto said with a faint smile.

Catalina blushed under his scrutinizing gaze. They fell silent for a moment. A strange desire to understand who this young woman was and what storms or twists of fate had brought her there overtook him.

"Tell me about yourself instead. Where are you going?"

Her hands, which had been hanging by her sides, clasped together.

"Nowhere, I'm waiting for someone," she said, checking her watch.

A concerned exclamation escaped her lips. Trembling, she stopped a train conductor.

"When does the direct train from Facatativá arrive?"

"You've got the wrong station. Only the tourist train runs here on weekends. You need to go to Transmilenio on Calle 26, where the new terminal is."

Catalina widened her eyes and raised her eyebrows. "How far is it?"

"Half an hour on foot, or just ten minutes by car."

Her cheeks flushed again, and she turned her head to hide her embarrassment.

Suddenly, as if focusing on a target in a rifle's sights, she saw them. Near the entrance, two policemen were checking the passengers' luggage.

"I have to go out and catch a taxi!"

Ernesto cleared his throat slightly to signal his agreement. Then, putting a gum in his mouth, he added:

"I have no commitments... nor a specific itinerary for this vacation. I would be happy to accompany you."

She did not respond immediately.

"A bit of indulgence never hurts while traveling, and I'm not someone who fears changes and surprises."

"Give me time to think."

"No, now. So, do you want to or not?"

"Yes... I do!"

Ernesto took the suitcases, weighing them a few times. Before setting off, and after handing Catalina the lighter one, he affectionately slipped his arm under hers.

Passing by the old police cars lined up in the atrium as if in a museum, they were stopped near the exit.

"What's this about?" Ernesto asked, feigning surprise.

The first officer did not respond.

"Are you tourists?" asked the second officer, short and stocky, exuding all energy and force.

"We are on our honeymoon," Ernesto said calmly.

"What do you have in the suitcases?"

"Mostly clothes."

"Can you open one?"

Catalina muttered some incomprehensible words and began rummaging through her purse.

"I can't find it, I can't find it... I can't find the key," she said, becoming more agitated and panting, as if she had just run.

"Please hurry!" the officer insisted.

"Here it is... how careless of me, I had put it in my pocket. I'll unlock it right away," Ernesto said surprisingly.

"Place it on that bench," ordered the first officer.

As Catalina blinked rapidly with excitement, the lock clicked. At that moment, hope, trust, and joy flooded her poor heart oppressed by fear.

During the inspection, the officers rummaged through the clothes and linen for a long time, finding nothing unusual except various bottles of lotions and perfumes. Meanwhile, Ernesto kept his eyes fixed on the young woman, who looked most attractive in her heightened pallor.

"Do you want to examine the other one?" Ernesto asked the two officers with a subdued smile.

The stocky one seemed hesitant. "It's not necessary!" said the other.

The same officer then took an orange pencil from his pocket and drew a cross on both sides of the recently checked suitcase.

"You may go."

Outside, the air was stifling and stagnant.

Catalina glanced around cautiously in various directions, fearing that someone might be watching her, then shrugged to shake off her fear.

About twenty scattered stalls formed a colorful market, filled with contrasting smells: from grilled chorizo to copal, from arepas to tropical fruits.

Among the stalls, there were ragged, half-naked, emaciated, spectral beggars, standing like cacti in the Tatacoa Desert. They were gaunt individuals who did nothing, ate scraps thrown on the ground, and were content with a few sips of water.

Before Ernesto and Catalina could decide which way to go, one of them approached them. His arms were wrinkled, his knees ghastly on his skinny legs, and his feet enormous. His face had only two tiny, dark eyes sunken into their sockets.

"May you find what you seek," he said to them, "or rather what suits you. That's my wish for you, in exchange for your cruel smile. If only the shadow of your compassion touched me, I wouldn't be able to see the sunrise tomorrow."

Then he added, pointing at Catalina: "Such a lovely face is a curse from heaven! One should never tempt anyone in this world."

Ernesto sketched a mocking grin.

Catalina did not react, stunned by the beggar's odors, the subterranean fumes, and the various food smells.

The individual moved his lips as if reciting a prayer, then bade them farewell with a wave of his hand.

"What a strange man!" Catalina whispered.

Ernesto responded with a hand wave with the back of his hand facing up, in the Argentine manner, then turned to her with a solemn gravity. "Is this your first delivery?"

"I won't say anything..."

"It's not enough to stay silent!"

"Then what should I do?"

"Trust me. We were lucky to pass the inspection; now we just need to leave."

"But my appointment?!..."

"The other station doesn’t exist; the Regiotram de Occidente was and remains a mere project."

"But the conductor told me it was nearby..."

"Perhaps he meant the bus terminal, or he wanted to lure you into a trap."

Catalina shivered. She rubbed her palms on her face, then slowly brushed her fingers across her temples and forehead, and finally removed her turban. She let down a fine, soft mass of dark hair, bending her head several times.

Meanwhile, she observed Ernesto, who showed neither pride nor fear.

"Why are you doing all this for me?"

"And why are you taking such huge risks?"

Catalina's mouth, with lipstick slightly smudged at the corners, parted in a yawn of exhaustion and sensuality.

She lowered her gaze. She thought back to her past, seeing a long sequence of exciting and pleasant moments, suddenly interrupted by sudden voids, by small, bottomless black pools. They would suddenly engulf her, perhaps during a dance, or in the middle of a conversation that amused her, or while making love. It wasn’t pain. It was much less and horrifically more. It was a nauseating absence of everything. What am I doing, who am I?...

"A month ago, something unexpected happened, and it was as if my entire previous life had been swept away. I fell in love with a man to whom I couldn't say no."

There was no more time or desire for whispers. With his good-natured impudence, his spirit, and his magician-like gestures, Ernesto wanted to get her out of there.

"Tomorrow, I’d like to visit the salt cathedral; I would be happy if you joined me. For tonight, I’ve booked a place in Chapinero, one of the southernmost neighborhoods."

An unexpected wave of joy enveloped Catalina, as if an invisible wing had lifted her from her troubles. Her face turned rosy, and her short, thick eyelashes began to flutter rapidly.

"Tell me, tell me..." she repeated several times, as if she wanted more details.

"Let’s go over there, I see some cars. They’re probably taxis from the Cooperativa Radio."