Page 24 of One Year Ago in Spain
“I am going to watch you walk inside, okay?” the paramedic said. “To make sure you are steady.”
She nodded. “Muchas gracias.”
Claire made a show of puncturing one of the juice boxes with a straw and drinking it while she went back inside. The kind receptionist hurried over, bringing Claire’s laptop and briefcase from where she’d left them in the hotel café.
“They told me I just need to eat, drink, and rest,” Claire said, even though that was a lie. But the receptionist didn’t need to know that Claire likely had a concussion and that they’d wanted to admit her to a hospital.
“We were worried,” the receptionist said.
Claire glanced over her shoulder to see if the ambulance had left yet. But the paramedics were still standing in the driveway, watching her. She couldn’t just ask the receptionist to call a taxi for her to Matías’s hospital; Claire would have to actually get in the elevator to convince the medics she was going upstairs to rest.
“I’ve got my juice and crackers,” she said, holding them out for the receptionist to see. “All good here.”
The receptionist hit the elevator call button.
Claire sipped on her juice.
The elevator didn’t move from the third floor.
Claire finished the juice.
The elevator decided to go up instead of down.
The receptionist smiled awkwardly at her.
Claire smiled awkwardly back. “Um, you don’t have to wait here with me if you—”
“No, no! I am happy to carry your bag and computer and escort you to your room to make sure you are okay.”
Great.
Claire opened a package of crackers and nibbled one. Her stomach was not in the mood for anything to be put in it, but she was under the spotlight for now with the receptionist and the medics all watching her.
Finally, the elevator came to the lobby, and a rush of tourists spilled out, ready to hit Madrid in search of restaurants and bars.
The receptionist accompanied Claire all the way up to her room, looking as if she were afraid Claire might faint again at any second.
“Okay, thank you,” Claire said as she unlocked her door and took the computer and briefcase from the receptionist.
“If you need anything—”
“Thank you!” Claire said, practically closing the door in the receptionist’s face.
Safely back in her room, Claire leaned her back against the door and slid to the ground. Everything that had happened hit her at once.
She’d seen Matías’s ghost.
She had had a conversation with it.
He was dead, and she was losing her mind.
Claire inhaled a jagged breath as the weight of loss began to crush her again, grinding her into the grimy hotel carpet, compressing her lungs so it became harder and harder to get air. Her heart panicked, pounding erratically like a drummer who’s lost all control of the beat, and the only thing she could see was the image of Matías in bed, hooked up to all those machines.
Except now, the machines were quiet. No beeping monitors. No IVs administering medicine.
No need, because Matías was dead.
Claire moaned and tried to bury herself deeper into the carpet.
