We - Part 6
6.
Sara’s bloodcurdling shout hadn’t stopped ringing through the halls of the mansion that Silvia was already running up the stairs. The unthinkable had happened, her mind was already shutting itself down as her body was still moving, stubbornly, lost in the forward momentum, fighting against the distance that separated them, preparing itself to fight anything and anyone standing in between her and her reason for living. Her body was fighting for survival. It was as simple as that - if Pepa lived, she lived, if Pepa was gone, she would take her with her, just as if she’d extend her hand and Silvia would willingly put hers in it and walk alongside her anywhere, because anything else was inconceivable.
Paco was standing in the middle of the huge, ravaged room, his arms hanging by his sides, eyes lifeless, utterly defeated, like a statue, unseeing, unwilling to see more, cutting itself off from all the pain and death because to let it all in - at this very moment - would shatter it to a million pieces. Silvia only stopped to grab his collar, shake him violently once and roar: “Paco, the medical kit out of my car. NOW!!!”
The next second she was leaping over the dead guy’s feet in the door to the upstairs room. She almost faltered when her brain translated to her heart what her eyes were seeing - Pepa dead. But the body couldn’t stop yet. She felt herself falling to her knees, saw her two hands extending themselves towards the unmoving figure, one of them raised a chin, the other felt for a pulse. Her heart almost burst when she found one, a thready one, but one nonetheless.
Noise close-by alerted her to the presence of others. She looked over her shoulder. Sara, Don Lorenzo, Paco, Lucas and Aitor. Tears coursing down Sara’s face, hands trembling, Lucas hugging her with one arm around the neck offering support, Don Lorenzo shaken, looking so much older and more frail than his years, Paco more alive, hoping again, with the medical kit in one hand.
“Lucas, Aitor, help me get her on the bed. Paco, bring me the kit.”
Lucas is reaching under her arms and Aitor grabs both of her feet and then they gently lay her on the bed. Sara is already on the other side of the bed, at her head.
“Papa, please go find someone to help you bring up some boiled water. Paco, find me some…”
“Silvia, she isn’t breathing!” Sara’s voice is high-pitched.
*
I turn my head. The words reached my brain, but I had trouble comprehending them. This was not how it’s supposed to go. I lunge at the bed, check, she has stopped breathing.
I draw in a lungful of air, bring my lips to hers and start performing CPR, my hands press one, twice, three times on her sternum.
“Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare, Pepa.” I sob and my eyes are flooding with tears.
“You promised!” I repeat the procedure, hoping the air will reach her lungs, hoping they haven’t collapsed yet as a result of the trauma inflicted by the bullet… but most of all hoping irrationally that Pepa will just keep her promise against all odds.
Pepa always keeps her promises to me, always. Just once she didn’t, and it cost us 8 years of our lives to find our way back to each other, but we were kids then, kids who were afraid and couldn’t fathom fighting the entire world just to keep our promise to each other. The promise we made to each other the night before Sara’s 1st Communion, under that old oak tree of ours in my father’s garden at night, when she finally gathered all her courage and kissed me for the first time, and I told all my fears to go to hell and acted on my feelings and kissed her back. After that perfect moment my fears were back with a vengeance, I didn’t voice them, she simply knew, she just pulled me down on the grass, held me in her arms, smoothed back my hair and waited until I raised my eyes to look into hers. “We’ll always be together, you and I. Don’t you know that, Silvia? We always have been and always will be. The world will just have to get used to it.” And then she gave me her trademark grin and another kiss, at the end of which I couldn’t remember anything but the way her lips felt and tasted, and my brain got happily lost in describing the experience to itself in minute detail, over and over again.
“Silvia…” I feel my father’s arms around me. But I can’t stop.
“No!” I wrench myself out of his arms and turn my fury on them all.
“OUT! Everybody out. NOW!” Stunned faces look back at me, then pitying eyes.
“PLEASE! Leave us alone… please.”
I know I’m hurting them and I’ll apologise when this is all over, but right now, right here, this is between me, Pepa and death. They can’t help me. This is my fight.
Sara’s bloodcurdling shout hadn’t stopped ringing through the halls of the mansion that Silvia was already running up the stairs. The unthinkable had happened, her mind was already shutting itself down as her body was still moving, stubbornly, lost in the forward momentum, fighting against the distance that separated them, preparing itself to fight anything and anyone standing in between her and her reason for living. Her body was fighting for survival. It was as simple as that - if Pepa lived, she lived, if Pepa was gone, she would take her with her, just as if she’d extend her hand and Silvia would willingly put hers in it and walk alongside her anywhere, because anything else was inconceivable.
Paco was standing in the middle of the huge, ravaged room, his arms hanging by his sides, eyes lifeless, utterly defeated, like a statue, unseeing, unwilling to see more, cutting itself off from all the pain and death because to let it all in - at this very moment - would shatter it to a million pieces. Silvia only stopped to grab his collar, shake him violently once and roar: “Paco, the medical kit out of my car. NOW!!!”
The next second she was leaping over the dead guy’s feet in the door to the upstairs room. She almost faltered when her brain translated to her heart what her eyes were seeing - Pepa dead. But the body couldn’t stop yet. She felt herself falling to her knees, saw her two hands extending themselves towards the unmoving figure, one of them raised a chin, the other felt for a pulse. Her heart almost burst when she found one, a thready one, but one nonetheless.
Noise close-by alerted her to the presence of others. She looked over her shoulder. Sara, Don Lorenzo, Paco, Lucas and Aitor. Tears coursing down Sara’s face, hands trembling, Lucas hugging her with one arm around the neck offering support, Don Lorenzo shaken, looking so much older and more frail than his years, Paco more alive, hoping again, with the medical kit in one hand.
“Lucas, Aitor, help me get her on the bed. Paco, bring me the kit.”
Lucas is reaching under her arms and Aitor grabs both of her feet and then they gently lay her on the bed. Sara is already on the other side of the bed, at her head.
“Papa, please go find someone to help you bring up some boiled water. Paco, find me some…”
“Silvia, she isn’t breathing!” Sara’s voice is high-pitched.
*
I turn my head. The words reached my brain, but I had trouble comprehending them. This was not how it’s supposed to go. I lunge at the bed, check, she has stopped breathing.
I draw in a lungful of air, bring my lips to hers and start performing CPR, my hands press one, twice, three times on her sternum.
“Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare, Pepa.” I sob and my eyes are flooding with tears.
“You promised!” I repeat the procedure, hoping the air will reach her lungs, hoping they haven’t collapsed yet as a result of the trauma inflicted by the bullet… but most of all hoping irrationally that Pepa will just keep her promise against all odds.
Pepa always keeps her promises to me, always. Just once she didn’t, and it cost us 8 years of our lives to find our way back to each other, but we were kids then, kids who were afraid and couldn’t fathom fighting the entire world just to keep our promise to each other. The promise we made to each other the night before Sara’s 1st Communion, under that old oak tree of ours in my father’s garden at night, when she finally gathered all her courage and kissed me for the first time, and I told all my fears to go to hell and acted on my feelings and kissed her back. After that perfect moment my fears were back with a vengeance, I didn’t voice them, she simply knew, she just pulled me down on the grass, held me in her arms, smoothed back my hair and waited until I raised my eyes to look into hers. “We’ll always be together, you and I. Don’t you know that, Silvia? We always have been and always will be. The world will just have to get used to it.” And then she gave me her trademark grin and another kiss, at the end of which I couldn’t remember anything but the way her lips felt and tasted, and my brain got happily lost in describing the experience to itself in minute detail, over and over again.
“Silvia…” I feel my father’s arms around me. But I can’t stop.
“No!” I wrench myself out of his arms and turn my fury on them all.
“OUT! Everybody out. NOW!” Stunned faces look back at me, then pitying eyes.
“PLEASE! Leave us alone… please.”
I know I’m hurting them and I’ll apologise when this is all over, but right now, right here, this is between me, Pepa and death. They can’t help me. This is my fight.