Her fencer girlfriend came back to find her that night

The hospital had that smell that nothing could get rid of. Bleach, reheated coffee, antibiotics. And fear. Daniela had three shifts stacked up even though Friday wasn’t hers. She’d volunteered herself. She preferred the beeping monitors and code blues to the silence of her apartment.

Or, worse, to standing outside Valeria’s building another night, waiting for her to appear at the fourth-floor window and for her to actually come down and open the door this time.

Every step down the waxed hallway felt twice as heavy. She wasn’t eating. She wasn’t sleeping well. Her white coat hung off her shoulders and her lips were cracked from biting them so much. The only thing that really hurt, though, was Valeria’s silence. She didn’t have her number. She had no way to write to her. She only knew where she lived and which café she went to with Camila on Saturday afternoons. It had been a month since either of them had shown up.

—Dr. Vega —the hospital director’s voice snapped her out of her trance.

Dr. Rivas appeared at her side with his immaculate coat, loafers without a single scuff, and that sticky sweetness that always had something else behind it. He was the kind of man who said “dear” and made it sound like a warning.

—I’ve noticed you’ve been covering extra shifts —he said, walking slowly to force her to keep pace with him—. Any financial trouble you want to talk to me about? You know you can count on my support.

Daniela clenched her jaw. Inside, her world was falling apart, but she wasn’t going to give him a single millimeter.

—Everything’s fine, Doctor. I like keeping busy.

—Admirable. And, honestly, surprising —he lowered his voice a notch—. You’ve always been so reserved. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know you fully.

They walked together toward the break room. She swallowed. She knew the script. She’d heard it in whispers among her coworkers, in the held-back tears of Mariana, the trauma resident he’d “suggested” have dinner with the previous Monday. The ones who said they didn’t leave without a recommendation.

—I have a new project —he went on—. A private pediatric unit. I think you’d be interested. If you’re willing to talk, of course. In a more personal way.

Daniela stopped dead.

—Thanks, but I’m fine where I am.

He tilted his head with a smile that never reached his eyes.

—I understand. Though a recommendation from me could take you very far. You know that.

She lowered her gaze. Not from fear. From held-in rage. And because beneath the rage there was something else: the memory of hands that did know how to touch her.

***

Three months earlier, after the national tournament, Valeria had taken her to her apartment for the first time. She was a fencer on the national team and had won gold the night before. They arrived dizzy from cheap champagne and a conversation that wouldn’t end. In the elevator, Valeria put a hand on the back of her neck, slowly, as if asking permission, and pulled her close until her mouth brushed Daniela’s without kissing her.

—If you get scared, tell me —she murmured.

Daniela wasn’t scared. She bit her lower lip and let her bag slip from her shoulder.

Inside, Valeria took off her jacket before turning on the light. Her hands were steady, roughened by gripping the sword, and yet they knew how to find the soft places. She opened Daniela’s blouse button by button while kissing her neck, with the calm of someone who knew she had no reason to rush.

—Look at me —she asked when she took off her bra—. I want you to look at me while I touch you.

And she looked at her. She looked into her dark eyes, her half-open mouth, the shoulders shaped by years of training. Valeria ran her tongue over her left nipple, slow, then stayed breathing over her until Daniela arched against her.

—Don’t rush —she said—. We’ve got all night.

She took her to the bed, pushing her with her hip. She took off her skirt, her stockings, everything, and took her time looking at her naked against the white sheets. She stroked the inside of Daniela’s thigh with her knuckles until Daniela spread her legs without being asked. Then she lowered her mouth.

Daniela remembered the first brush of Valeria’s tongue like a jolt. The way she held her by the hips so she wouldn’t move. The way, when she could no longer bear it, Valeria came up and settled over her, skin against skin, and bit her ear while asking her to come. She remembered coming while crying, without understanding why. And Valeria’s hand in her hair afterward, combing it through as if she were a little girl.

—I’ve known you for three hours —Valeria had told her, lips pressed to her temple— and I already don’t want to sleep with anyone else.

That was three months ago. Before the silence.

***

—Dr. Vega.

Rivas’s voice brought her back to the hallway. They were in front of her office. He had his hand on the knob. The door was half open.

—Don’t you want to come in? I’ll make you a coffee. You look tired.

—No, Doctor —she said, looking him in the eye for the first time—. I’m not coming in. Not today, not ever. And if you call me “dear” in the hallway again, I’m going to speak to HR. Is that clear?

The smile dropped off his face. It took him two seconds to put it back on.

—You’re very touchy.

—I’m very awake.

She turned and walked down the hallway, her legs trembling, but without quickening her pace. When she turned the corner she went into the staff bathroom, locked the latch, and leaned against the tiles until her breathing evened out. Then she splashed water on her face, tied her hair back up, and went out.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out expecting another shift, another call from the hospital. It was an unknown number.

—Hello? —she answered.

There was a long silence on the other end. Then a voice she knew better than her own.

—It’s me.

Daniela closed her eyes.

—Where are you?

—Down below the hospital. Camila gave me your shift. Can you come out for a minute?

She didn’t answer. She hung up. Took off her coat, tossed it over a chair, and went down the service stairs three steps at a time. When she came out through the side door, rain was falling in fine needles and Valeria was standing on the other side of the street, in a black jacket, wet hair stuck to her forehead.

Neither of them moved for a moment. Then Daniela crossed the street without looking and stopped thirty centimeters from her, burning with fury.

—A month —she said—. A month without a single word. Do you know what that is?

—Yes.

—No. You have no idea.

Valeria brushed her hand over Daniela’s cheek. Daniela knocked it away.

—Let’s go up —Valeria said—. We’ll talk upstairs.

—To your apartment?

—To yours. If you let me.

Daniela gritted her teeth. She nodded.

***

The elevator in Daniela’s building smelled damp. They rode up in silence, watching each other in the mirrored reflection. Valeria had lost weight. There was a yellow bruise on her cheekbone, not quite faded.

Inside the apartment, Daniela closed the door and stayed against it, not inviting her to sit.

—Talk.

—They offered me a scholarship in Italy. Three years. To train with the Olympic team.

—And?

—And I turned it down two weeks ago. That’s why I disappeared. Because I was going crazy trying to decide, and I didn’t want to drag you into it with me. The prosecutor was my lawyer, helping me break the contract.

Daniela looked at her. It took her a while to understand. When she did, something in her chest loosened that had been clenched for thirty days.

—And why didn’t you call me?

—Because I knew that if I called you, I’d accept whatever you told me. And I needed to decide on my own. I needed to choose you without you choosing me first.

Daniela bit her lip.

You idiot. She thought it before she said it.

—You idiot.

—Yeah.

—A gorgeous idiot.

Valeria smiled for the first time in a month. She took a step forward. Daniela didn’t move from the door, but she lifted her face.

—Touch me —she said—. But this time don’t leave.

Valeria put both hands on her face and kissed her. It wasn’t a soft kiss. It was a kiss made of a month’s worth of hunger, teeth clashing and breath breaking apart. Daniela grabbed the wet jacket and threw it to the floor. She slid her hands under Valeria’s T-shirt and dug her nails into her back until Valeria groaned into her mouth.

She shoved her against the hallway wall. She kissed her neck, her collarbone, the hollow where the vein pulsed. She bit the lobe of her ear the way Valeria had bitten hers the first time, and Valeria laughed softly, hoarse.

—You learned —she murmured.

—I had time.

She took her to the bedroom, pushing her the same way Valeria had pushed her three months before. She sat her on the edge of the bed and knelt between her legs. She unbuttoned her jeans slowly, looking at her, waiting for her to nod. Valeria nodded, her eyes shining.

—Don’t rush —Daniela said, giving her back the line—. We’ve got all night.

She pulled down her jeans and underwear in one yank. She kissed the inside of her knees, the inside of her thighs, biting just enough to make her skin prickle. When she reached the fold, she ran her tongue over her whole length, slow, and Valeria let her head fall back onto the mattress.

She held her by the hips like she had that first night, but now she was the one who knew how to hold on and how to let go. She made her moan twice. She made her say her name. She made her grip the bedhead with both hands. And when Valeria was close, she came up, settled over her, and slipped two fingers inside her while kissing her mouth to swallow the last of her moan.

—Look at me —she asked, just as Valeria had asked her—. I want you to look at me while you come.

Valeria looked at her. Her pupils were dilated and her mouth was parted and she came against Daniela’s hand without making a sound, biting her shoulder. Then she stayed still, breathing against Daniela’s neck, until Daniela realized she was crying.

—Hey —Daniela said, combing her fingers through her hair—. Hey.

—I thought you weren’t going to open the door for me.

—I thought you weren’t going to open it for me anymore either.

Valeria turned her over slowly, without breaking contact. She laid her on her back and kissed her sternum, her navel, her hip, before climbing up again. She settled her under her body with that same firmness from three months ago and slid her knee between her legs.

—Now you —she murmured.

Daniela closed her eyes. She felt Valeria lower herself to her breasts, barely biting her right nipple, tracing her stomach with an open mouth. When Valeria reached between her legs, Daniela clutched the sheets with her fingers. No one had touched her for a month. For a month she hadn’t even dared touch herself thinking of anything other than silence.

—Look at me too —Valeria said from below.

Daniela lowered her gaze and found those dark eyes looking up at her over her pubis. That image broke her. Valeria ran her tongue over her, slow, and Daniela let out a moan she’d kept locked away for thirty days. She ran her tongue over her again. And again. Until Daniela’s whole body began to tremble in waves, in tiny surges climbing up her legs.

—Don’t rush —Valeria gave it back with a smile you could hear in her voice.

But she rushed. She came with her head thrown back and both hands tangled in Valeria’s hair, not caring that the apartment walls were so thin the neighbor would hear. And when she came, she cried too, unwillingly.

Valeria came up slowly, kissed her tears one by one, and lay down beside her. She pulled her close against her chest. Slipped an arm around her waist.

—I’m not leaving —she whispered in her ear—. Do you hear me? I’m not leaving again.

Daniela nodded against her collarbone. She breathed in the scent of rain on Valeria’s skin.

—Tomorrow I’m quitting the hospital —she murmured.

—Tomorrow we’ll talk about tomorrow.

Outside, water kept falling on the tin roofs. Inside, for the first time in a month, Daniela closed her eyes without being afraid of waking up alone.