Chapter 17: What She Gave Back

The house had a new lock on the garden gate, and Valeria opened it herself.

She wore jeans and a grey sweater, and her hair was loose.

I had not seen her hair loose on a Saturday in five years.

"I didn't make lunch," she said. "I didn't know if you'd stay."

"I won't."

"Good. Then I won't have to learn how."

She almost smiled, and led me to the dining room.

On the long table lay a stack of folders, squared neat at the corners.

Every one had a coloured tab.

"Sit," she said. "Please."

I sat.

She stayed on her feet, and I understood she had practised this in front of a mirror.

"First folder," she said. "The accounts."

She slid it across.

Inside were bank statements, and a pen-written list on top in her small surgeon's script.

"They're all in my name. I've changed them to both our names. Joint, with full access."

"We're divorced."

"I know. I did it anyway."

"Vale, I don't want your accounts."

"They're not mine. My father left me the house, but five years of it was paid for by a man who stopped earning, so I could keep my job."

I pushed the folder back.

"Second," she said, and slid another.

A new bank card lay on top, with my name embossed on it.

"I cancelled your old one in a rage, the night you left. It's the worst thing I did that week, and it was petty. I'm giving you a new one."

"I have a card."

"You have the card Inés gave you."

"She gave me a salary advance."

"And I wasn't going to be outdone by her," said Valeria.

I laughed.

I couldn't help it, and she looked at me with a pleased, wary hope that I did not know what to do with.

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