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his own serenity and try to assuage her sorrow.
    The lift stopped and out came Gabriela, tall and fragile, looking around as if searching for something, a gesture that was characteristic of her. She greeted him with that calm smile which was never entirely free of affliction, and at times she seemed to be on the brink of bursting into tears. She’d gathered her blonde hair into a ponytail, and this gave her an air of youthfulness. Her face, clear and clean, only looked troubled in its lifeless eyes and in the deep, M-shaped wrinkle that had formed between her eyebrows, as if Manuel himself, in dying, had engraved it there so as to make his presence felt every time she looked in the mirror. Olmedo admired how beautiful she still was. Only a woman with an upright neck and straight nape can carry off a ponytail like that. In a few years it would suggest stiffness and harshness.
    ‘Have you been waiting here long?’ she asked.
    ‘One minute,’ he replied as he approached to kiss her lightly on her thin, cold lips. They were the same height.
    They went inside, and while his daughter showed Gabriela around, he sat in the living room with the child, who was now changed, and smelled fresh and clean. The boy started passing him all the toys he had in his playpen, as if that disorderly exchange of pieces were the most fun thing in the world. Olmedo heard the women in the other room, his daughter chatting about colours, furniture, decoration. They seemed relaxed when they returned, and he thought he could go to his meeting now, as they didn’t appear to need him at all. They had planned to drop by Samuel’s together, to pick up some plants he had promised them.
    ‘We’ll ransack his garden, you’ll see,’ joked Marina as she carrieda huge wicker basket and a roll of plastic bags. ‘I’ve bought a dozen flowerpots,’ she said, pointing to the balcony where one could see the empty containers of all sizes, ‘and we’ll get enough plants to open a botanical garden.’
    ‘Poor Samuel!’ said Gabriela.
    ‘I wish I could come with you, not to help you carry anything, but to stop you carrying so much. I really should be going, though. The meeting starts at eleven.’
    He put the printed papers in his briefcase, picked up the car keys and walked to the door with Gabriela.
    ‘Shall I stop by tonight?’ he asked.
    ‘Better tomorrow. I’ve got several things to do at home.’
    ‘All right. Tomorrow then,’ he said, respectful of the reserve she often showed him.
    They’d been seeing each other for four months, and he knew that patience was needed to solve a contradiction in their relationship : he sought Gabriela’s company more than she did his, and yet he was sure that, of the two, she was the one who needed the other more. But Gabriela would have to arrive at that conclusion on her own. In the meantime, he would stick around, and only when she opened the door would he step in, never trying to force the lock before that moment. He wasn’t a man who liked talking about himself, nor did he have enough mastery of the complex vocabulary of feelings to persuade her of all he could do for her. He felt awkward with sentimental words, perhaps because of his profession, in a time when the military had left behind the art of gallantry. If one day Gabriela looked him in the eye and asked: ‘Who are you? What are you like inside? Why do you take such pains with me and show me such kindness?’ it wouldn’t be easy to reply to her. He needed time and facts, more than words, to explain things.
    Now it was Gabriela who approached to kiss him, as if with that kind gesture she meant to compensate him for her refusal to see him that night. But when she placed her hand near his left armpit she must have felt the bulk of the gun, because she withdrew itquickly. Olmedo knew how much she disliked it when he was armed.
    ‘I’ll call you tomorrow then,’ he said.
    ‘Tomorrow, yes. Good luck at the meeting.’
    ‘I think it’ll be