An Endless Longing novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The False Seal
The clerk at the Miraflores Municipal Office stared at my marriage certificate for a full minute.
Then he passed it under a purple light lamp, then under another one, and finally looked up.
"Mrs. Gamarra, this document is not authentic."
I had only gone to request a copy.
My certificate had gotten wet from a leak, and I needed a new one to renew my travel visa.
"There must be a mistake," I said. "It's the original. We got married five years ago, right here in Lima."
"The seal is fake. The registrar's signature too."
He typed my ID number into the computer and waited.
Then he typed in my husband's, Hugo Larco.
He looked at me with an expression I recognized, the one of someone who already knows they're about to deliver bad news.
"Ma'am, the system shows you as single."
I felt the floor shift beneath my shoes.
"That's impossible."
"And Mr. Larco is listed as married."
"Then there has to be a record," I said. "Search again."
He typed again.
"Yes. Five years and two months ago. To Carolina Maúrtua."
The name meant nothing to me, and at the same time it meant everything.
Once, at a cousin's wedding, I had seen her photo from a distance: a tall woman with short hair, in a gray tailored suit.
Hugo told me she was a business partner.
I leaned on the counter with both hands.
The clerk handed my papers back in a manila envelope.
At the top, in gold letters, the phrase "Marriage Certificate" gleamed.
My eyes stung looking at it.
I walked out into the street and wandered aimlessly through Kennedy Park, among pigeons and tourists.
Five years.
The church in San Isidro had been full of white flowers.
I wore a lace dress and cried because my mother, already gone, couldn't see me walk down the aisle.
Hugo, in his blue suit, had slipped the ring onto my finger.
The priest had said: "I now pronounce you husband and wife."
I had signed a book.
I thought it had to be a computer error.
I thought the registrar had gotten the surname wrong.
It took me almost two hours to convince myself otherwise.
By the time I reached our apartment in San Isidro, it was already dark.
I opened the door with my key.
The hallway lights were off, but a strip of yellow showed under the door of Hugo's study.
I heard voices.
I stood still, the envelope pressed against my chest.
I recognized the second voice.
It was the Larco family lawyer.
"Mr. Larco, it's been five years now," he was saying. "Don't you think it's time to give your wife some formal recognition?""
There was a long silence.
Then, my husband's deep voice, the one I thought I knew better than my own.
"Let's wait a little longer. Carolina is still in Madrid, handling the branch office. If I let her go now, the land contract falls through."
"But Amelia..."
"Amelia doesn't ask. She never has."
I covered my mouth with my hand.
"Your marriage to Mrs. Maúrtua only exists on paper," the lawyer insisted.
"If she decides to request an annulment, she can leave whenever she wants."
"She won't. Her father owes too much to my grandfather."
"And Mrs. Amelia?""
"Her I love," Hugo said, with a tenderness that made me want to scream.
"She stays with us until we sort everything out. She lacks nothing, she suspects nothing."
The lawyer cleared his throat.
"And what if she finds out someday?""
Hugo let out a short laugh.
"She married me with her eyes closed. She accepted whatever I gave her. With her, I've always been able to."
I felt something inside me break in silence, like a cello string when you tune it too tight.
I made no sound.
I set the keys on the entryway table, very slowly, so they wouldn't clink.
I left the apartment without anyone seeing me, went down the service stairs, and sat on the last step.
I breathed until the trembling passed.
Then I took out my phone and searched for a name I had never searched before.
Carolina Maúrtua.
There was only one profile photo, in black and white.
A serious woman with tired eyes, looking at the camera as if no one had ever asked her what she wanted.
I stared at her for a long time.
Then I turned off the screen.
That night I returned to the apartment at eleven, as if nothing had happened.
Hugo was waiting for me in the living room with a glass of wine and a smile.
"My love, where were you? I have a surprise for our anniversary tomorrow."
I looked at him.
And for the first time in five years, I saw him.
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