Signal to Noise(59)

And that was that. You don’t get to rewind your life like a tape and splice it back together, pretending it never knotted and tore, when it did and you know it did.

Didn’t he get that?

They’d never be friends again. Never care like they cared, never dance like they danced. Time had sucked the marrow out of her and they were both too old.

He stretched his arms and pulled Meche forward, resting his chin upon her head.

“I know,” he said.

Meche squeezed her eyes shut and let him hold her for a good, long time. They’d lain like that on the factory floor, Sebastian wrapping his arms around her as they fell asleep.

“I can’t see you again,” she said. Her voice sounded dinted and strained.

“Why not?”

“Compartments. Plus, it’s not as if I like you.”

Sebastian laughed lightly.

“Then pretend to like me for a couple more days.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll be gone after that.”

Oslo, with the little apartment. The shelves and the books—yes, she had bought them. She even had The Ambassadors, damn it—and the vinyl records proudly displayed on the walls instead of photographs of her family. Yellow walls and little white dishes as she sipped her tea and looked out the window, facing north. For half a second she wished he could see the place right now.

Meche shifted and slipped from his embrace. She looked down at him as she stood beside the bed and she shook her head, just the slightest movement.

She headed to the living room, pushed her hands deep in her pockets, brushing a pile of records on her way and making it tumble onto the floor. The front door was two paces away.

The keys.

Meche sighed, heading back towards the living room and bumping into Sebastian, who was standing there, leaning on the doorframe, looking down at her.

Sebastian stretched out a hand, pulling her closer and pressing his forehead against hers.

She felt completely lost and tried to shove him back, gently. He didn’t budge, instead pressing a kiss against her cheek.

“Second movement,” he said.

He kissed her mouth. Meche shook her head and looked away, staring at the shadows. She stood like that for a long time.

Coda, she thought. You mean a coda. She slid her hands up, touched the stubble of his jaw. It was odd, the texture of his skin beneath her fingers. Meche closed her eyes and kissed him harder than he had kissed her, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck.

He smiled against her mouth and she wished he was not so damn pleased with himself. Then she smiled too, only a little.





Mexico City, 1989





MID-JANUARY VICENTE VEGA withdrew all the savings from their bank account. He was investing them in the business venture of Azucena’s cousin. By the end of January, Azucena and the venture had vanished. Natalia found out at the end of February.

Vicente grabbed two suitcases and left on the last day of the month.





FEBRUARY WAS AN explosion of pink and red at Daniela’s house. Valentine’s Day approached with its excuse for her to indulge in craft-making on a grand scale. She went downtown and bought all kinds of supplies: silicone for the hot glue gun, fabric, shiny paper, bits of lace. She made Valentines for all her family—including the extended cousins in Mazatlán— and for all her classmates, even though they did not give her any Valentines. Then she began working on Sebastian’s birthday gift: he was turning sixteen.

Sebastian had been born the morning before Valentine’s Day and this gave Daniela the perfect excuse to put her talents to use for a gift which was part birthday present and part homage to this holiday. Her creations were all pink and sparkly, hideous and kitsch, best viewed from afar or not viewed at all. Sebastian, not wanting to hurt his friend’s feelings, accepted each with a smile, posed for a picture with Daniela holding the gift and stuck it somewhere on a shelf.

This year she was working on something which seemed to be a cross between an elephant and a zebra, a creature capable of giving Dali nightmares.

Sebastian observed her from the couch, wrapped in a warm blanket while Meche fumed.

“I thought we were going to practise some spells.”

“I’m here, ain’t I?” Sebastian said.

“I thought we were taking a break,” Daniela said, pressing sequins against the head of the deformed elephant.

“That was half an hour ago,” Meche said.

Daniela shrugged and Meche turned to Sebastian. It was cold in the factory with the broken panes letting in sharp winter air. He felt quite comfortable snuggled underneath the blanket, but he relented and walked towards Meche. Daniela, noticing it was now two against one, gave in.

They did not need to dance or hold hands anymore, though they sometimes did. For the past two weeks they had been working on something called a glamour, or as Meche pronounced it—gla-mur. She’d found out about it from a book of fairy tales she pilfered from the school library and was determined to make it work, although the results, so far, were far from perfect. There had been a creepy moment last week when they made Daniela’s eyes apparently vanish and she walked around as though she was a mole-person.

“Why don’t we try to imitate a whole person?” Meche asked.

“We can’t get eye colour right, let alone the eyes. Why bother with a whole person?” Sebastian asked.