She had planned a trip to Mexico before we met, so she flew to Mexico. During the first days, we talked every day. She’d send me pictures of street dogs and I'd send her pictures of stray cats. On the fourth day, we didn’t write. That was the first day that we didn’t talk since we had met. I don’t know if she was as aware of that fact as I was. I thought about it all day , but for some stupid reason, I wanted her to initiate the conversation. I wrote her the next day, casually. Nothing terrible had happened really, even if it felt like it did. She didn’t reply that day. I tried not to make too much of it. She’s on a trip with friends, that’s all there is to it. But it smelled funny. Over the next couple of days we still talked but it was sparse and felt forced. Something had changed. 

 

I offered to pick her up from the airport when she came back but she declined. A friend of hers was picking her up already. “Ok, see you tonight?” I asked.

 

“Let’s talk later,” she replied. I knew at that moment that our relationship, however one wanted to categorize it, was over. I just didn’t know why. Trips are tricky. They can rewire a person’s circuits in inexplicable ways. It must have something to do with the interruption of the continuum of events…it seems like we’re not built for it. Loss of momentum can be lethal. 

 

I talked about this with my wife. I proposed the most obvious theories, which were that she either met someone in Mexico, or she went there to see someone to begin with, or she had re-started things with her ex, the one she had recently broken up with. My wife suggested another one: “Maybe she likes Lucas.” 

 

“What? No way, you’re crazy,” I said.

 

“I don’t know. There’s something weird… and I’m pretty good at noticing these things.” She was right about that. She was good. And I was terrible. Men are clueless. 

 

“So what, she’s just sleeping with me to make your boyfriend jealous?” I said. 

 

“It’s possible,” she replied. 

 

I didn’t give any credit to that theory; mine were way simpler, and, as they say, the easiest explanation is usually the right one.

​

It was five days after her arrival that she texted to see me. We were going to “have a talk.” I agreed out of pure curiosity, nothing more; the mourning had already been done. Before leaving my house, I went through some of my favorite Stoic prayers. I wanted to make sure I was mentally prepared to face the forthcoming situation. Whichever explanation would come out of her mouth, I was to accept it without any resentment or anger whatsoever. I was ready to hear anything. We agreed to meet at a park of her choosing near my place around 5 PM. 

 

When we saw each other from afar, we both chuckled. I found myself happy to see her, which was unexpected. She walked towards me, and I skipped towards her like a schoolkid. Knowing that the relationship was over liberated me to be as goofy as I wanted. When we finally reached each other, we didn’t kiss or even hug, we just said ‘hi’ and laughed. She guided me to a wooden bench that I previously didn’t know existed. It was placed directly over the grass, surrounded by bushes, and with a perfect view of the little artificial lake. One of the city’s best kept secrets. We sat there and talked about random shit, completely ignoring the mammoth in the room. 

 

Time flew by. The sky went dark. After hours of fluent conversation, a few seconds of silence opened the door to the unavoidable. It was time. “So, what is it?” I asked.

 

“Nothing, I don’t know,” she said with her face down. I translated that as: “it’s something, and I know exactly what it is, but I don’t want to tell you.”

 

“I swear I’m prepared to hear anything. Is it a guy you met in Mexico?”

​

“No”

​

“Is it your ex?”

​

“No”

 

I made a longer pause before my next question: “Are you in love with Lucas?” 

​

She covered her face with both hands and buried her head between her legs. I gasped but immediately started laughing. The whole thing was simply too precious for me to be mad. Granted, from my point of view it wasn’t ideal. But from God’s perspective, it was perfect. I tried to explain this to Maria, who was even more shocked at my reaction than I was at her revelation. “So, it doesn’t bother you?” she asked.

 

“It bothers me a little, but I also find it hilarious,” I said. 

 

“Please, please, please, don’t tell anyone,” she said. 

 

“I won’t,” I said. 

 

“Can I sleep at your place tonight? I don’t want to sleep alone.”

 

I said yes; I figured since things were going to hell anyways, I may as well get some sex out of it. 

 

The next morning, we woke at the same time from a loud noise coming from the kitchen. Sounded like a metal tray falling or something. She looked at me with horror eyes. Of course, of course this would happen, how could we not anticipate it, she worried. I, on the other hand, couldn’t have cared less. Like the past night, the spectator in me was thrilled to find out how things would pan out.

 

“Let’s go,” I whispered. 

 

“I can’t, I can’t,” she said. “What are we gonna say?”

 

“I don’t know, we’ll see,” I said. 

 

“No, no, no, no, no,” she begged. 

 

I agreed to stay in bed a bit longer. Then I smelled butter. Sizzling butter. I hadn’t done anything wrong, I was hungry and we were going to have to get out of there eventually, so why not go out while breakfast is still hot? This last argument ended up convincing her, or maybe it was the fact that I was already getting dressed while making it.

 

We got out of the room and made a public appearance. Very familiar scene under a very different set of circumstances. The inquisitive looks fell on me first. I shrugged. Lucas asked me if I fucked her with his eyes and I replied duh with mine.

​

I sat at the table, legs spread and arm on the next chair. “What’s for breakfast?” I asked. I felt so comfortable that I failed to notice that Maria was having the opposite experience. She stormed out of the house mumbling something like “sorry, sorry.” I went after her, but when I opened the door and shouted “Maria,” all I heard were quick step sounds coming from the building’s stairs, followed by a loud door slam.

 

“What the fuck was that?” Lucas asked when I came back.

 

We were all shocked. They wanted explanations and after that scene there was no way I could play dumb.

 

“The truth…is….that…you were right,” I said to my wife.

 

“I knew it!” She got up in excitement. She pointed to Luca, “I told you!” 

​

“What?” he asked.

 

“She’s into you,” she said.

 

“WHAT?” he asked, looking at me.

 

“Yeah, it’s true,” I said, nodding.

  

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it,” my wife kept rejoicing in her perceptiveness.

 

“You didn’t know?” I asked him.

 

“No way,” he said.

 

“Because you’re all stupid!” my wife said.

 

“She told me yesterday,” I said. “I couldn’t believe it either.”

​

“Damn,” Luca said, scratching his forehead. “That’s crazy.”

 

“Yeah… guess we’re not forming a band after all,” I said.

 

“Never mind,” said Luca. “She doesn’t know how to play any instruments anyways.”