Free Love in Lowercase by Francesc Miralles Page B

bed was empty. They informed me that he had been taken out for some tests. I wanted to wait, but the buxom nurse insisted that I should leave.
    â€œHe’ll need some rest after this.”
    This reminded me of Valdemar’s space explorations, so I headed off to the bar. As I was walking through l’Esquerra de l’Eixample, I wondered how he made a living. It was hard to imagine him having a serious job of any kind, although his clothes suggested that he wasn’t short of money. If he wasn’t living off an inheritance, he had to be doing something.
    When I got to the crossroads, I saw that Valdemar had just gotten up from his table and was picking up his manuscript, about to leave. I caught up with him just as he was striding away to wherever he was going.
    â€œDid you find the piece by Ravel?” I asked him for the sake of starting a conversation.
    â€œI’m not looking for it,” he responded very brusquely. “You told me it was called ‘Le Gibet.’ That’s all I needed to know.”
    â€œSo you only wanted to know the name of the piece?”
    â€œYes, I like calling things by their names. Don’t you?”
    As we walked down one side of the Plaça de Catalunya, I remembered the mystery of Mendelssohn’s gondolier and told Valdemar about it.
    â€œFavor for favor,” he answered without slowing down. “Take me to a music shop, and I’ll clear up the mystery for you. I’m very good at reading CD cases.”
    I led him to the classical-music shop, and we got there a few minutes before closing time. We were already halfway through the door when, acting on impulse, I pulled Valdemar back onto the street. He wasn’t in the least surprised by my behavior, and we continued striding along together.
    â€œI’ve had enough of music,” I said. “Can I take you to lunch? I know a good restaurant not far from here.”
    He nodded slightly. I was trying to slow down my heart, which was racing madly after I’d seen Gabriela inside the shop again.

When We Go to the Moon
    I led the way through the maze of alleys to the Romesco, a small restaurant I’m quite fond of in the Raval neighborhood. Valdemar didn’t say a word all the way there, which gave me the opportunity to try to make sense of what was happening.
    Then it hit me, and I laughed at myself for not having seen it earlier. It was no miraculous coincidence that Gabriela had reappeared in the music shop. Of course! She worked there.
    This realization was comforting in a way, because now I knew where to find her. I didn’t need to go back to sitting on the terrace on the off chance she’d walk by. I only had to go to the shop. Yet this didn’t help me with the main problem—namely, that Gabriela hadn’t recognized me or been at all receptive to my reminiscences of our childhood. As far as she was concerned, I was a stranger, and the most intimate interaction I could hope for between us was my purchasing a CD from her. And that was exactly what I decided to do.
    â€”
    We managed to grab the only unreserved table in the restaurant before a horde of low-budget tourists swarmed through the whole place. They serve simple dishes there, so I asked for salad and fish for both of us, plus a bottle of white wine.
    â€œI don’t have much time,” Valdemar said.
    â€œThey’re very quick here. Don’t worry. Where do you have to go?”
    â€œI have to get back to my research.”
    He tasted the wine, his index finger drumming on the thick manuscript that lay on the table. He then wiped his mouth with the napkin and announced, “A marvelous future is in store for humanity.”
    At first I didn’t know what to say. As if I was experiencing a new déjà vu, I had the feeling that this wasn’t the first time I’d heard such nonsense.
    Then I said: “Now, that’s certainly an optimistic viewpoint. But what’s