Chapter 68 - Being Back Home - mduno
I stretched out in bed, having heard my father walking around the house since three in the morning. In less than an hour, I had to get up to help milk the cows. D’Artagnan jumped onto the bed, he slept at the foot of it with me. I arranged his blanket nest, and no human power could get him out of the room. Deep down, I didn't want to part from the only memory I had left of Roland.
The first week was tough. Mr. Fausto was happy because I distanced myself from that "bad influence." The problem was my heart, which felt the opposite. I haven't been able to reconcile reason and heart; the latter has justified him beyond measure.
My pride boasted that he would come looking for me, but he didn't. The second week, my arrogance faded, and I started crying when I realized he didn't love me. I didn't cry in front of them; I did it when I rode or during my work moments. I tried to smile, though they knew it was out of courtesy.
Knocks on the door made me groan; life in the countryside wasn't the same. My mother made the day more pleasant. Well, that's what I thought. Coming back home as a professional, I see things from a different perspective.
"Vero, it's time to start getting ready," my father commented from the other side of the door.
"I'm coming, Dad."
I stretched again, and with my eyes half-open, I got into the shower. La Dorada was a hot town, very hot, far from the capital's cold. Adding to that, my father's lands were vast. Before noon, I was already melting and dehydrated.
Today marked sixteen days without hearing anything about Roland. He was probably asleep, maybe tangled up with his new girlfriend. It still hurt that he preferred her. I undressed, and as every day, the scar on my body reminded me why he wasn't sure about me anymore. No way, I brought this upon myself; there was nothing I could do about it.
I'll save enough for cosmetic surgery to improve it a bit, if they guarantee, of course, that I'll look better than what I see. I wiped away the tears, praying to God to stop them from falling. Under the water, I cried my first ration of the day; I managed to fragment it.
I didn't want to see Dad giving me sermons about the same person, nor did I want my brother to start introducing me to his friends again. I dried off, put on jeans, a shirt I tied at my waist, and my black boots.
I pulled my hair into a high ponytail and went out. Renata already had breakfast ready for us. She was the foreman's wife and had lived with us for as long as I could remember. I kissed her forehead.
"Good morning, Renata."
"Good morning, my girl."
She greeted in her usual dry tone. She was a woman with short hair, had six children, and the eldest already worked with his father on the farm.
"What do you have for breakfast today?"
She winked at me; I hadn't tasted better coffee with milk than hers. She served me a plate of fried plantains and cheese. Delicious, I smiled without meaning to.
"Finally, you smiled, girl."
"Oh, Renata… better not ask."
"Yes, because I don't want to hear anything about that man."
Renata and I exchanged glances. My father sat at the table; we had breakfast before leaving the house. Santi pulled my ponytail and sat down.
"Come on, Renatilla, you only make these breakfasts with Vero, huh!"
My brother said in a playful tone, and I knew he said it out of jealousy. I laughed, stuck out my tongue, and rolled my eyes at him.
"Vero," I looked at Dad. "I spoke with Mr. Rogelio, and he's interested in having you check his animals. They'll pay you well."
"But Dad."
"You're a veterinarian," I nodded. "Besides, I already told several friends in the association, and you're likely to start getting jobs."
"Thank you."
I had to do something; I studied for this. I don't know why I didn't visualize myself practicing in the future. Well, since Roland crossed my path, I forgot, with all that money he had in his account, and I never thought it was mine. It seems my subconscious betrayed me.
"I don't have a phone, Dad."
He looked at Santi, who shrugged and tried to suppress laughter. What are they up to?
"They already have your number. I've been your secretary. Next week, your schedule is packed."
"Thank you."
It was all I said. There was nothing else I could do, maybe getting involved in activities related to my career would help me not feel the hole in my chest.
"Well, let's milk the cows and then go to church."
My brother and I exchanged glances. He knew this Veronica was a facade; I hadn't let them see inside. At some point, I would. For now, if I let my guard down, my chest would hurt. Only God, time, and my family would heal me. They would slowly fill the void. My father left, and Santi stayed with me.
"Vero..."
"I'm fine, it's nothing," she denied.
"I know you very well. You love him, it's not good to hold it in, you've been through a lot."
"We need to help Dad with the milking."
"Lorena's death hasn't fully healed, and now the breakup with the man you said, 'if he were gone from this world, you'd kill yourself for.'"
"I would never do that!" I said, such stupidity has never crossed my mind.
"Sis, I don't mean killing yourself, there are many ways to die, right now, you're just breathing. I know you, and if with my mother..."
"With time, it will pass, I just loved a little more."
"No, Vero, there's something else. I witnessed how Roland suffered during your coma, his sudden change doesn't make sense, and now he's indifferent to you. He seemed crazy, even talking to himself."
"What?" I didn't know that.
"I want you to know, I'm here."
I felt like crying. I threw myself into his arms, and without trying, the tears started to flow and flow.
"Call him, clear things up. He wasn't kissing her, you just saw her kissing his neck and..."
"And he stayed with her at her house! He never invited anyone... For a man like him, that's more than just sleeping with some woman."
"She doesn't know he's a drug dealer, maybe..."
He shrugged while I kept hugging his waist. I wiped my nose, and we went out.
"Wait, your phone."
"Thanks."
I said as I took it. As soon as I had it, I felt like calling him and lowering myself to cry. I put it in the back pocket of my pants. It was Roland who should look for me, I wasn't the one who failed our relationship.
"In Dad's office are the appointments for next week, don't get used to it because I discovered I don't have the soul of a secretary," I smiled.
"You guys are impossible. Still, I love you both very much," I wiped my nose, and we went out to the corrals.
Life on the farm went by quickly, no matter how much I say it was monotonous, it wasn't. After milking the cows, something I had enjoyed since childhood, we went to mass. Father Pérez was very cheerful, too youthful, and that made the service different and equally gratifying.
His way of teaching us about God and the love professed by His son was much better. He had the support of the parishioners who backed and approved his methods. Just looking at how the church was about to burst with people eager to hear his messages was proof. If you don't arrive on time, you have to listen to the mass standing.
My father introduced me to many people while my brother organized a gathering for the evening at a well-known place in town. I didn't want any of it; my spirits weren't high enough to dance, and my visual daggers were useless.
He didn't even notice, and old Fausto, eager for me to forget Roland, would give me permission until dawn, as if I were a child. He arranged with his friends; the gathering was at eight. We returned to the farm.
Being attentive to the cattle's vaccinations, the diseases of some animals, and a thousand things that arise out of nowhere kept me from thinking too much. One day it was the fence knocked down by the bulls. Another day it was the Correa's animals that wandered onto our land.
The hens laying their eggs in various places. I don't know why my father doesn't build them a coop, well, actually, I do know. He doesn't because my mother liked to search for the nests in the mornings.
The house remained the same as she left it. According to Renata, moving a picture out of place would result in a week of scolding for whoever committed that imprudence. I lay on the bed; it was four in the afternoon. I remembered I had a phone now.
The only numbers I knew by heart were his, Flaco's, and Lorena's old number. I only had the right to call my friend. On the fourth ring, he answered with a hoarse voice. I imagined the hangover he had from last night.
"Hello," I said, not wanting to think about how annoyed he must be with me.
"Vero?"
I laughed to myself with my heart in my throat. He was involved with one of Roland's trusted men; maybe he'd tell me something.
"Hello, Flaco."
"Look who's back!" I was speechless. "God, I can't even tell you how hurt... Look... I won't say anything! You treated me like a mere acquaintance, not 'your friend.'"
"I'm sorry."
It was all I could do. He was right; if I put myself in his shoes, I'd feel the same. He sighed.
"I understand."
"Are you talking to Verónica?" My soul froze at hearing him.
"Are you with Roland?"