The Warning I Ignored at the Company Party

My name is Adrián, and I’m writing this from the worst moment of my life. No one I loved has died. What happened is worse than that, because you can’t blame death for it. Carla, the woman I loved most, decided to sleep with another man, and with that single decision she made it impossible for us to stay together.

My job forced me to travel from Valencia to Seville a couple of times a month. Carla couldn’t stand being alone at home; it terrified her in a way she couldn’t even explain. I spoke to my bosses and they agreed to let her come with me. She worked remotely, so with her laptop she could do her job from any corner of the country without a problem.

That Friday I got home and found her nervous, because the next day I was leaving on a trip for a whole week. Seven nights alone. She was an only child, her parents had died years earlier, and all her friends had their own families and couldn’t keep her company. The moment I walked through the door, she locked eyes with me.

—Carla, I have good news —I said.

—Was the trip canceled? —she asked, anxious.

—No, the trip is still on. But I talked to my bosses and asked them to let me take you with me.

Her face went from disappointment to joy in an instant.

—And what did they say?

—That there’s no problem. They already booked a double room for the two of us.

Carla started jumping around and hugged me so tightly I thought she’d break my ribs. What I didn’t know then was that that gesture, that generosity of mine, would be the beginning of the end of our marriage. If that afternoon I had known what I know now, I would have laughed at my own naïveté. But as they say, reality is stranger than fiction, and reality ended up running me over.

***

My company worked with another one in Seville on a joint project. Every time I traveled I met with Gonzalo, my counterpart, and we went over what had been done between trips. Gonzalo was forty-five, ten years older than me and fifteen older than Carla. He was an attractive man, one of those who clearly live in the gym: you could tell he had a well-built body under the suit. I ran every morning before going into the office, just enough to stay healthy, but my physique was nothing special. My face wasn’t either: neither handsome nor ugly, a face that doesn’t bother anyone but no one remembers.

I don’t know how he found out about the flight, but he was waiting for us at the airport when we got off the plane. It surprised me, though I didn’t think much of it. Gonzalo and Carla stared at each other a second too long, until he held out his hand and she shook it. After that everything was normal. Too normal, I found out later.

The project was going brilliantly, so the two companies organized a party: dinner and, later, music for anyone who wanted to dance. Carla wore her long red dress, the one with the bare back. It didn’t surprise me: it was her favorite and she always wore it when we went out dancing. We were seated at Gonzalo’s table with his wife. While Carla enjoyed the night, his wife stayed serious, like someone who knows something everyone else still doesn’t.

We ate well, and then my little hell began. Who on earth decides to wear new shoes to a party. After dancing with Carla for a while, my feet hurt so badly and the room was so hot that I went out onto the large adjoining terrace to get some air.

I sat down on a stone bench by the railing and, when I took off my shoe, I discovered a nasty blister. Carla came out behind me, worried.

—Are you okay, Adrián?

—Yes, don’t worry.

Gonzalo appeared behind her. He was coming from a tense conversation with his wife, which he cut short before reaching us. When she saw the scene, his wife turned around and went back to the party to get herself a drink, even angrier than before.

—Do you mind if I take Carla dancing? —Gonzalo asked.

—No, of course not —I replied—. I don’t want a blister ruining her night.

—Are you sure, Adrián? —she hesitated.

—Sure. As soon as the pain calms down, I’ll come in too.

Some people will think I’m the stupidest man in the world. But until that night Carla hadn’t given me a single reason to distrust her, and I knew how much she loved dancing. What could go wrong? I had some band-aids in the inside pocket of my jacket. I put one on. It still hurt, but at least I could step without limping. When I stood up to go back in, someone came over: Gonzalo’s wife. Around forty, very well preserved. A truly attractive woman.

—I’m going to give you some advice —she said—. Don’t trust my husband.

—They’re just dancing —I answered—. I don’t think it’s that serious.

—I warned you.

—You haven’t told me your name.

—Lorena. And you’re Adrián, right?

—That’s right. I’ll keep your advice in mind, but I trust Carla completely.

Lorena gave me the saddest smile I have ever seen in my life. I was about to ask her something, but she had already turned back toward the party. When I went inside, Gonzalo and Carla were chatting at the bar, drink in hand, with nothing suspicious in sight. I joined them, checked that everything was in order, and when the pain came back I suggested to Carla that we head back to the room. As we said goodbye, Gonzalo and Lorena were arguing again in a low voice. They fell silent the moment we were near. Lorena’s look as we left didn’t escape me.

I understood it perfectly: she was asking me not to forget what she had told me. The week ended, we returned to Valencia, and our life regained its rhythm. I even ended up smiling, thinking Lorena had been wrong.

***

In my department, where I was a supervisor, someone made a serious mistake with a project. The deadline was looming and there was nothing to do but work overtime for weeks. When I told Carla about it, I expected a reproach that never came.

—I’m sorry I have to leave you alone some nights —I said—. You’re paying for dishes you didn’t break.

—Don’t worry —she replied—. I know you stay because you have no choice. And with both of us in the same city, I’m not as scared: you’re one call away.

I kissed her and went to the shower, exhausted, with the problem still unresolved. Carla didn’t complain once. We kept making love, less than before, but with the same devotion as always. I promised myself I’d make it up to her as soon as everything was over.

***

Two months after that trip, one night I was in my office, absorbed in reports, when someone cleared their throat. I looked up. It was Carla.

—What are you doing here? —I asked, surprised.

—Adrián, I have to tell you something —she said—. I thought I could live with it, but I can’t keep hiding it from you.

—Hide what? —I feared the worst when I saw she was unable to look at me.

—Gonzalo and I…

—Shut up! I don’t want to hear any more! —I cut her off—. Since when?

—For a few weeks now.

—I can’t believe this, Carla! His wife warned me about it at that party and I trusted you blindly!

Carla wiped away her tears and, rubbing her hands together, began to tell me everything, knowing that every word finished destroying our marriage. That night at the party she had felt something the moment she saw him, a current she initially refused to take seriously. But as the evening went on she discovered a man who was fun, with a thousand things to talk about, and who danced as well as she liked. Her curiosity kept growing. Even so, she loved me, and convinced herself it was a passing foolishness.

When my company got into trouble and I stopped traveling, it was Gonzalo who started coming to Valencia to supervise the project. I don’t know how he did it, but he got her number and one night invited her to dinner. Carla almost told me, but she saw how stressed I was and thought it wasn’t worth worrying me over a dinner. Besides, going out would do her good so she wouldn’t have to spend another night alone at home.

That first dinner, according to her, didn’t go beyond dinner and dancing at a trendy place. But once home, going over the night in the shower, she became aware that the man attracted her the way flame attracts a moth. She had his number on the screen, her finger on the delete key, and she didn’t delete it. That was the beginning of the end.

They started talking every night I stayed late at the office. Interest turned into obsession, obsession turned into desire, and desire got into her dreams. She woke up aroused and tried to satisfy herself with me the few times we crossed paths, without success. The next time Gonzalo came to Valencia, she accepted another dinner she should have turned down. And the inevitable happened.

They went back to the same place, only that time he was much bolder: he kissed her neck, brushed his body against hers, until, without her quite knowing how, they ended up in the back alley, her against the wall and him inside her. She told it in a low voice, without looking up, and then fell silent.

I was trying to breathe. My heart was pounding and I was genuinely afraid I might drop dead right there. That confession had just wiped out fifteen years of my life in a matter of minutes, leaving inside me a hollow as if something had been torn out from within.

—Carla, I need you to leave the house for me tomorrow morning so I can pick up my things —I said, defeated.

—I never wanted it to end like this —she replied—. You have to believe me.

—It doesn’t matter whether I believe you or not. The damage is done. You committed the fault, but we both pay for it.

—I’m truly sorry. You can’t control feelings —she said—. I wish I hadn’t felt anything. But when I met him something stirred in me, and at the very least you deserved the truth.

—I see you’re very clear about it —I muttered, looking out the window—. I hope you know what you’re doing.

—I know the most likely thing is that I’ll crash headfirst into a wall —she replied—. But if I don’t try, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.

Carla stood up to hug me when she saw how broken I was. I took two steps back and put my hand between us. I didn’t want her comfort. I wanted her to leave.

—Remember: the house is mine only tomorrow morning —I said, swallowing my tears—. After that you’re free. My lawyer will contact you about the divorce.

—And what are we going to do about the house? —she asked, her lip trembling.

—Pay me my share and keep it, or we sell it and split it. I don’t care.

—You don’t want it?

—No. Tomorrow will be the last time I set foot in it —I answered, as the dam finally gave way and tears ran down my face.

She lowered her head, turned around, and left the office, leaving me alone with a weight crushing my chest.

***

I couldn’t work anymore that night. I booked a room in a nearby hotel; luckily, a last-minute cancellation had left one available. On the way to the elevators I passed the bar, still open, and sat on one of the stools in the middle.

—A strong whisky, please.

—Rough day, sir? —the bartender asked.

—The worst.

I watched him put back the bottle I’d chosen and take down another from a higher shelf.

—No need for anything special —I said.

—Trust me, this one is very good. You’ll thank me.

I don’t know how many hours I spent there or how many glasses went down, but for a while the pain crushing my chest eased. Closing time came and I went back to the room to wrestle with that newly installed emptiness, lying there staring at the ceiling, wondering what I had done wrong. And worse still, whether Carla had ever loved me or whether I had only been a consolation prize while she waited for something better.

***

I watched the first rays of sunlight come through the window. I took a long shower and went to collect my things. Luckily, I was never one to accumulate: everything I owned fit into three boxes. I stopped by the company to ask for the morning off, but I didn’t feel up to driving and took a taxi. When I reached the building entrance my heart tightened and I broke down crying. At that hour the neighbors were asleep and I didn’t have to give anyone any explanation.

I went through the house one last time, treasuring memories that would never repeat. The last stop was the bedroom. Carla kept her word: she wasn’t there; maybe she hadn’t even slept there. I gathered everything except for three things I left on the bed, one beside the other.

The first was the envelope with the letter in which I declared my love to her. I got so nervous in front of her that the words wouldn’t come out, so I wrote them down. The day I gave it to her my hands were trembling so badly that I dropped it on the floor, and she was the one who picked it up and read it through tears. She looked at me and said yes. For years that letter meant my love for her; after her confession, it came to represent the most absolute lack of love.

The second was my wedding ring. I still remember the trembling at the altar, the sweaty hands, the dry mouth, the fear of not being able to say my vows, and how all it took was her taking my hand for me to know everything would be fine. For two years it was the definition of fidelity. Since last night, its definition had changed: infidelity, disloyalty, betrayal.

The third was the key to what had been our house. I scoured the entire city looking for the perfect place before we got married, and when I was about to give up, I found it. I brought her there blindfolded to surprise her; I will never forget how her eyes shone when she took off the blindfold, or the strength with which she hugged me, crying with joy. That key meant commitment for four years. Now it meant abandonment.

I left the three objects together. Carla knew me well and would understand the message. I looked at the house one last time before closing the door and walking toward the taxi. The blow had been brutal. I had no choice but to lick my wounds and move on, hoping that one day someone would fill that emptiness again.