Chapter Twelve: Spread Out.

Everything seemed to be moving too fast. While Enric forced himself to go to work and act normal, Patricia stayed in Barcelona for a week instead of the three days she had planned before heading to the Catalan city.

With her work done, the girl set out to explore the cosmopolitan city. The grand Diagonal was full of shops and venues, but it wasn't as commercial as Madrid's Gran Vía, as Enric had once casually mentioned. She promised herself not to think of him, but she was disobeying her own vow.

She mistakenly believed she could isolate all her thoughts by simply walking, but improvising in a foreign city didn't suit her. It was the second day of vacation and the fifth she had spent in the Condal City, and she spent nearly the entire day walking along the Rambla, from the port to the center, uphill. She explored a bit and discovered streets and alleys not too different from those in Madrid.

After reaching the port, she returned to the hotel where she was staying, and the next day she wandered all morning northward until she arrived at a familiar address: the street and number she had once written on a postcard more than two years ago.

She looked at the names on the intercom for something to confirm whether what Enric had said was more than just a point of view, but aside from a nameless sign on the floor and letter she had once written, there was nothing else. Something kept her from leaving the area, and she soon found out why, as an elderly woman came out of the building and noticed her:

"Soraya, dear! What's become of you?" The lady touched her shoulder.

"Excuse me?" Patricia was surprised.

"Oh, dear, forgive me," the woman sensed the truth from her reaction. "Aren't you Soraya?"

"No, I'm sorry." She smiled out of politeness.

"You look so much like her," the woman scratched her chin, "I got confused, sorry, young lady."

"Oh, don't worry, Soraya and I are twins." Patricia looked away.

"Wow, she kept that well hidden!"

"I see." The young woman, with a circumstantial expression, decided to give the lady the sad news. "But Soraya passed away over a year ago, ma'am."

"No wonder I haven't seen Enric in so long, poor thing, they loved each other so much!" The woman covered her mouth.

"Wait, Enric lived here?"

"Of course, Soraya and Enric lived together already!" The woman grew concerned. "Did something bad happen to him?" She moved closer to Patricia. "He didn't try to hurt himself, did he?"

"He lives in Madrid now." Patricia was puzzled by the question and didn't answer directly.

"But is he okay?" The woman tried to take her hands.

"Yes, of course. Why wouldn't he be?" Patricia felt a very unpleasant sense of unease.

"Enric is an introverted guy who loved Soraya so romantically..." The woman shook her head. "A young man like him seemed from two centuries ago."

"I don't understand, ma'am." Patricia felt a lump in her throat. "Unless you explain yourself..." She didn't want anything bad for Enric.

"Well, it seemed he loved her with all his soul. Enric was romantic as if born around 1800; though he was more about gestures and actions than words. He didn't tell your sister he loved her for fear of rejection!" She put a hand to her head. "Even while living together!"

The unease was suffocating her, but that neighbor shouldn't worry about her like she once did for Enric and her sister. And something beyond that feeling gave her a ray of light:

"And Soraya?" she asked.

"Oh, your sister was stubborn as could be," she shrugged, "though you probably know that, and I know Enric was the only one who could make her see reason most of the time. She loved him too, but showed it differently, and above all, they cared deeply for each other."

"And how do you know so much, did you know them well?"

"My children live in Australia, and we had formed a little family because we lived across the street." The woman pointed to a terrace of the building.

"And Soraya never told you about the family she had in Madrid?" She seemed slightly annoyed with her sister.

"Not at all!" The lady made an exaggerated dismissive gesture. "Enric lost his parents shortly after they moved into the apartment, and we found out about that from her, mind you." The woman squinted, raising her eyebrows.

Patricia was puzzled by the revelations of the former neighbor. Soraya had kept her family a secret as if it were something to hide. And Enric? She had underestimated his feelings to the point of ignoring them. After what the lady had said, she feared she had hurt Enric with something she said the last day she saw him. Then she realized she loved him as much as he had managed to admit.

She thanked the woman and tried to learn more about her sister. She knew from her parents which company Soraya worked for and looked up the current address in the directory to visit. They were very formal when they accepted Patricia's visit without an appointment. She spoke with the head of the department Soraya belonged to, and he gave her a large architect's folder with work done by the deceased. Since it seemed strange to her that they kept the originals, she asked, and Soraya's boss explained that Enric had requested it as a personal favor.

Now she no longer saw Soraya as someone with a traitor's air; each had locked themselves away in their own way after the death of the older sister, and ironically, Enric had helped her understand it. What she didn't know was that she had caused the same effect in him unintentionally by sharing so many anecdotes among the three sisters.

Meanwhile, Enric had become an automaton again. He constantly wore a poker face, with unnecessary sunglasses indoors, simply to prevent a glimpse of his unease from escaping. He felt as if he were reliving everything from the beginning, but this time he didn't feel powerless because he knew he could do something. But what?