Page 94 of The Wondrous Life and Loves of Nella Carter
Fine, bottles. No judgment.
I stood up and stretched. I needed a new challenge—a project to distract me from the passing of time.
I snagged my canvas tote and headed for the fire escape that led up to the roof and down two stories to Calle Peña. We technically weren’t supposed to use it, but it was quicker than the stairs, and there was something about seeing the world at your feet.
The higher I got, the better I felt, the city dropping away as I ascended. The rungs were slightly damp from a brief summer rain, washing away the day’s heat. The air breezed fresh and new, smelling like opportunity.
Maybe there was a charity I could join. Get my hands dirty. Help someone else. Every time I felt a spark of motivation, I reminded myselfof the lessons Death had taught me. That work was taxing, and there was always a chance that he was nearby, but it had to be better than watching water drip, my endless day ticking away.
I was halfway up the ladder, turning the idea over, when the heavy metal door banged open, spilling out a grinning Diego. His smile was so genuine, I almost felt bad for not returning it.
“We meet again. I see this is where you hide,” he said. “Carmella, right?”
I grasped the rung in front of me, boots thumping on the slick metal, slinging the bag to my side as he gazed up at me.
“Did you want company?”
“I came up to read so—”
“I figured it out,” he said. His energy was lively and uncontained, and not what I wanted at this very moment, or for him to have recognized me from the cemetery.
I fished out my book and flipped to the bookmarked page, ready to read about characters as tragic as me. But as I scanned the page, I could feel Diego’s eyes on me. “What?”
His smile slipped for an instant, but he pasted it back quickly like the edge of curling wallpaper. “I have a question for you, but it might sound strange. It’ll only take a moment if that’s okay?”
I closed my book. Tapped my watch so he knew I was counting this alleged moment.
He grabbed the railing and hoisted himself up the rungs, scaling them with the ease of a rock climber. He sat beside me on the tiled roof. I’d been polite enough. Maybe it was time for more direct action.
“Such a nice day. Isabella said you come up here. I see why.” He turned, taking in the Buenos Aires skyline. “It’s beautiful, no?” He inhaled, his shirt molding to his sculpted figure.
“Yes, it is. Now, what is it that you need? Shouldn’t you be getting settled in?”
He smiled widely. “I should and I will soon enough. But first, I must know. You’re the woman from la Recoleta.”
“That’s not a question.” I gazed out in the distance, careful not to make eye contact. My stomach fluttered with embarrassment.
“Are you?”
“Am I?” I was being obtuse because I was trying not to be rude. There was an office full of women who’d want his attention. Surely I could redirect him.
“I would never forget your voice.” He fished for eye contact I wouldn’t give him.
I didn’t admit to anything, and I wouldn’t encourage him to dig deeper. I also pushed down the desire to ask about his grandmother. Had she passed? Had his heart been broken like mine? We sat there as the noise of the city filled the silence between us.
“There will be a company hike this weekend. We’re going to Costanera Sur on Saturday morning,” he said. “Linda says it’s for team building, since I’m new. Will you be there?”
If I went, he would ask again. And again. I would come to care for him. Something terrible would happen, and I would need to leave the life I’d made.
“Sorry. I have plans. Nothing personal.” They were the same plans I had every Saturday—book and bed—but that was none of his business.
He finally got the hint. “Well, let us know if your plans change.”
I held my book aloft. “Enjoy the rest of the lunch break.”
“Of course,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. I flipped to bury my nose in the middle of the book, ignoring the sting of guilt in my chest. He was just being nice. And the thing was, I wished he’d met me in another time. Sometimes you meet someone and it’s simply the wrong circumstance. Perhaps things would have been different.
What happened next, I couldn’t even blame on Death. He wasn’t there.
