Page 34 of One Year Ago in Spain
Oh shit. She’d momentarily forgotten that this wasn’therMatías. That she was talking to an illusion. Or a Ghost of July Past? Whatever he was, he didn’t know they would end up together, that this was more than a passing walk through the park with a stranger.
“Um, sure,” Claire said, trying to figure out how to cover. “It’s nice to have a familiar face in a new city.”
“That’s very sweet of you,” Matías said. “So…could I have your number so we can connect once I’m there?”
“Yeah, okay…”
“I mean, if you don’t want to, I understand—”
“No, no. It’s fine.”
It was just that, to Claire, Matías should have known her number by heart.
But she pulled herself together and recited it.
He keyed the digits into what must’ve been his phone, but Claire couldn’t see it, even though he obviously could.
The reflection off the fountain’s surface shined through Matías, rendering him momentarily transparent. Claire felt his flicker viscerally, the brief second he vanished hollowing her out, only to be relieved and refilled when he reappeared.
“Okay, I’m going to text you a message so you have my number, too,” Matías said. He typed something and hit send.
But then he made a face at his phone. He jabbed at it again.
“Strange. It says the message can’t be delivered.”
A chill shivered up Claire’s spine. Was she suffering a mental breakdown? Was her usually logical, lawyerly mind trying to make sense of her walking and talking with an apparition, and then concluding that a Matías of the past wouldn’t be able to send a message to Claire in his future?
Matías was still looking at his phone.
“Oh no, I lost track of time!” he said. “I need to get to my studio—the boxes for shipping my paintings will be delivered soon. But it was very nice chatting with you, Claire. I’ll call you when I land in New York in a couple weeks, if you’re back by then? Or if you’re interested, come find me. My exhibit will be at—”
“The Rose Gallery,” Claire said.
Matías ran his hand through his hair and gave her a long, admiring look. “You have a sharp mind. Except when it comes to counting coins.”
Claire laughed despite herself.
“I look forward to seeing you again, Claire.”
And with that, he waved and jogged off in the opposite direction, back toward the part of the park where the drink kiosk had been.
Claire watched him. Her Matías.
Until a patch of sunlight hit him full-on, and he vanished into thin air.
Claire
Claire hurtled intoher hotel room, the door slamming behind her. She grabbed her laptop from her briefcase, flung herself onto the bed, and dove into research about what had happened at the park.
What was that version of Matías she’d just spent half an hour with? And the one who’d been here in the hotel driveway the day before?
Besides what Claire already expected—concussion-induced hallucinations or something else caused by the trauma of Matías’s accident and stress—internet queries were fruitless:
What you are seeing is a demon in human skin.
Are you doing shrooms?
Haunted houses often utilize projectors to create the image of a spirit.
