Free The Antiquarian by Julián Sánchez

enough to form a barrier between them that Enrique considered insurmountable.
    â€œNo, Bety. I appreciate it, but I’d rather be alone.”
    â€œI understand,” she murmured sadly, then suddenly took cover behind a veneer of cheery composure. “Well, there’s no time to waste then. I’ll be by to pick you up at three thirty. Let me call the travel agency to change the name on the ticket.”
    Enrique got up to walk her to the entry hall, but she refused.
    â€œDon’t even think about it.” She stopped him, placing her hands on his shoulders. “Rest, get your strength; you’ll need it these next few days.”
    Bety left. His rejection had stung her, and part of him took wicked delight in it, while the other, still dulled from sleeplessness and pain, chose to ignore it instead of facing reality: after all these years he still loved her, even more than in the beginning.
    True to form, Bety was right on time: she was downstairs, parked in front of the building, at three thirty on the dot. Two quick honks of the horn let Enrique know she was there. He gestured from the window to acknowledge that he’d heard. Seconds later, he appeared in the lobby with a large duffel bag. Bety opened the passenger door, and Enrique plopped his bag into the backseat and sat down next to her.
    â€œHow are you?” Bety wanted to know.
    â€œNot good. I lay down in bed for a while and tried to get some sleep, but I couldn’t. I’m too tired and my muscles are all stiff.”
    â€œPut your seat belt on,” Bety instructed.
    â€œYou know I don’t like wearing them.”
    â€œI know you don’t, but this is my car, so don’t argue. Come on Enrique, are you really going to spend your whole life objecting to everything I say and do? You know how important it is to me for everyone in the car to have their seat belts on when I’m driving, yet you still argue with me! Is it so hard for you to give in on something so trivial?”
    â€œNo, it’s not hard,” Enrique admitted, aware of how awkward it was to be arguing just then. “You’re right.” He immediately put the seat belt on and adjusted it. “Bety, I’m sorry. It’s not the best time for me right now. I had just finished my new book, and then I went out for three days of good, hard sailing. I felt so at peace with myself, I nevercould’ve expected anything like this. All I wanted was to crash out and sleep for twenty-four hours straight.”
    â€œIt’s fine, really. We don’t have much time, so let’s take the expressway.”
    They said little to each other during the drive. In an attempt to get Enrique’s mind off things, Bety tried to get him to talk about his novel, but he wasn’t up to it. She drove in silence. Enrique opened the glove compartment looking for CDs. Among them he found a mix of boleros that he’d recorded for her a while back, shortly before they separated. He slipped it into the player and turned it on. Lost in thought, he scarcely remembered that they’d shared their first kiss with these very songs playing in the background. In fact, he wasn’t surprised Bety had kept it. He would never have been able to, but she was pragmatic enough to ignore such incidentals.
    Bety parked right in front of the airport terminal. She had the gift of always finding a parking space as close as possible to her destination. Together they went to the Iberia Airlines ticket counter and confirmed a different passenger would be traveling on Bety’s ticket. They went to the cafeteria and ordered coffee, waiting for the boarding call to be announced.
    â€œCaptain Fornells said he needed to talk to you as soon as he could. Here’s his number at the station,” she said as she slid him a slip of paper with the number written on it. “Where will you stay? I have to know where you are, Enrique. I don’t want to miss the