missing moments

" Pero qué coño haces aquí? "

What the hell was that? It only took her seconds to realise. 

Still sitting on the bed, Zulema closes her eyes and slowly lets out a deep breath. She actually forgot about it for a while. The phantom of herself in the inmate clothes leans against the wall next to the bed, contemplating her. Though Zulema has her eyes closed, trying to ignore it, she still feels her presence, like a ghost, haunting her wherever she goes.

Suddenly, a nasty laugh sounds through the room. 

"Ay díos, have you looked at yourself in the mirror today? You are a riduculous creature. " 

Zulema's hands dig into the blanket, forming fists. Nasty laughters, again.

"No, you won't get rid of me, neither by bashing me nor by closing your eyes. Estoy dentro de tí. Accept it, Zuleima. "

Anger brews up in Zulema. "I actually already did so leave me the FUCK alone" she murmurs through her clenched teeth.

"Oh right, my fault, that's why you decided to die dig-ni-fied in the desert, no? Good idea I must admit. "

Where are my damn pills?

"But then why exactly are you here now? Alive? You know, it doesn't seem to add up quite well. "

Her old self makes some hand movements and a grimace, mockingly pretending to be confused. 

A quiet but genuine "I don't know" escapes Zulemas mouth. Which was exactly the reason she had refused to think about it until now. 

"Oh you know very well. "

Dark eyes staring into the nothing.

"No? Well, I'll help you: You got weak. And as if this wasn't enough, of all things, you got weak for the rubia tonta. Ay qué mierda. " 

That was enough. Zulema abruptly leaps up from the bed and, with an angry yell, uses her right hand to grab her old self by the throat. As she violently presses her against the wall, Zulema hears a pressed " You don't hate her anymore, admit it. One could even say she's quite important to you, no? " 

In answer to that, with an even louder yell, Zulema grips the other one's throat even tighter, sways her right arm around, and throws her ghost that way onto the floor. 

Not even devoting it one more glance, Zulema reaches for her jacket that was still lying on the floor and hastily rummages through the pockets. Once she found her pills, she throws 3 at once into her mouth, one more than she should usually take, and gratefully swallows them. 

Nevertheless, a dulled voice from the floor reached her ears: " But of what avail is it? What does it even matter? You coward don't have the courage to tell her anyway. Oh and also, you can count the days you have left on 2 hands. And thanks to yourself, you'll die slowly and abject, in a filthy hospital. BRAVO. " 

And with these words and a few handclaps, the ghost in the yellow prison clothes was finally gone.

Macarena was in the living room when she heard the yelling that came out of the bedroom. She panicked for a moment, instinctively supposing there was an intruder or something that was threatening them, but bethinks then. My paranoia really won't recover from prison . Although Maca guesses it was just Zulema being the maniac she is, she heads towards the bedroom for reassurance. But as she walks through the corridor, she already sees Zulema through the gap of the half-opened door. Maca's steps stop when her eyes get stuck on the brunette sitting on the edge of the bed, bent forward, her front falling into her right hand that supports her head, her eyes closed. Thanks to the amount of time they had spent together, Macarena could read on her despaired face that she didn't know if she should rant or cry. 

The unusual sight hits the blonde like a slap in the face. Still standing in the middle of the corridor, paralyzed, something abruptly returns to her mind she had completely forgotten about: the tumor. 

When she first found out about it, back in the hotel, she had simply pushed the thought aside, not really caring about it, since she was blinded by her anger against Zulema and the unpromising situation, as well as her urge to get back to her family and a normal life. 

But what had happened in the desert changed everything. The prospect of Zulema's imminent death in this moment. Macarenas inability to let her behind. And, as a consequence, her realisation that, in spite of everything, she indeed NEEDS the person she once hated more than anything on this planet.

But in that moment in the corridor, Maca also realised something else: With her decision to leave Zulema, she had taken the first kind of home the brunette ever had from her. Particularly in the last months of her life. Suddenly, a feeling of guilt spreads in the blonde's chest, even tho she didn’t wanted it to. But anyways, it was already too late.

Or is it? Maybe not entirely . Eyes still resting on Zulema's dejected face, thoughts rush through Macarenas head of what Zulema could need now. After she came to a conclusion, she takes some quiet steps back to the living room, and, once she arrived, shouts "Zulema where are more towels?". Then, taking extra loud steps towards the bedroom, she exclaims "We're going to the beach!"

When she enters the door, Zulema looks up to her, a little confused. " Qué? ". She was taken out of her thoughts.

A smile appears on Macarena's face and as she lifts her brows a bit, she states confidently "It's an order".

Losing herself in the blonde's smile for some moments, Zulema's face lights up a little and she gathers herself.

"You just want to see me in underwear, don't you?" 

Macarena blinks a couple of times, confused, but then decides to play along. After she leaned down a bit, she puts on a slightly seducing look and whispers into Zulema's face "And what if?"

Adopting the facial expression, the brunette approaches her face even more and answers "Well, then you'll have to rip off my clothes yourself. But I guess that would end very bad." 

Maca breathes in through her mouth, wanting to say something, but then stops. She frowns. "Wait do you mean "bad" like you knocking me out or like...you know-" 

"The towels are there" Zulema interrupts her harshly, and points towards the cabinet with her index, not breaking the eye contact. 

After further seconds of the staring battle, a mysterious smile starts to form on the brunettes lips, before she gets up and heads out of the room, leaving behind a confused but nevertheless teased blonde.

As soon as they had one foot into the sand, a bright smile spreaded on both of the women's faces. The blue twinkling water, the soft sand, the light sound of the waves breaking, the soon setting sun; everything was so beautiful. And kind of releasing and refreshing after what they had gone through. 

While Maca was still in her white dress, Zulema wore a long black t-shirt, made out of a thin and nearly see-through fabric. But only nearly. 

When they approach the water, Zulema suddenly starts to run and laughs as she hurls herself into the water. Damn how she missed the sea and the beach. It always gave her the feeling of endless freedom.

After diving around under water until her lungs burned in need of oxygen, she surfaces again. To her surprise, the water wasn't even cold, or maybe she just didn't perceive it, since the feeling of this other kind of freedom took her over. 

Some minutes later, floating around in the water, Zulema looks back to the beach, her eyes searching for Macarena. She finds her standing with just her feet in the water, holding her right hand against the sun to then pass it from the top to the bottom of her face. A déjà-vu. The thought of the situation they were in last time they were here, and what had changed since then, made the brunette chuckle.

But she also had to admit that the sight was quite enjoyable. The white dress, Maca's long blonde hair lightly waving in the breeze and her skin shining in the soft light of the setting sun. Damn this hallucination for being right. 

Words she had heard not so long ago start ringing through Zulema's head again: I need you. 

Her lips curling, maybe even a bit smugly, she drops to the back and lifts her legs to the surface, so that she's lying flat on her back in the water. Then, not holding it back at all, she starts to laugh, loud and deep from within her stomach. How absurd it all was. It seemed so amusing to her, she couldn't even stop giggling for a long while.

But then Zulema suddenly perceives an unfamiliar, if not weird feeling within herself. 

Something that had always seemed so far away, suddenly spreads in her entire body.

Peace . 

Actually, it was more than weird. It was SO long ago that she felt at peace, that she even had forgotten HOW it felt. Most of her lifetime there had been something that was wrong, something out of place. Mainly big issues, sometimes little ones. 

But in this exact moment, while floating on the water, Zulema felt like she was in the right place, at the right time. And, no matter how absurd it was, with the right person. 

Still laughing, she closes her eyes and tries to burn this moment into her memory. 

Life could actually be beautiful sometimes .

But then, unfortunately, reality inevitably hits her again, as if someone crashed a stone onto her head: Hers had to end soon. Very soon. Too soon . When it was finally a bit beautiful. 

The realisation first lets her laughters fade, then turns them into quiet sobs. Not being able to hold them back, warm tears stream down the brunettes face, directly into the large ocean. 

At the time, Macarena had sat down on the sand, a few meters behind the water, so that she wouldn't get wet. Her eyes had been resting on Zulema constantly, contemplating her attentively. When the brunette wouldn't stop laughing, her lips automatically curled a bit, just because it was such a genuine laugh, and she wondered what must have gone through her head. 

But then she noticed the change of her facial expression, despite the distance separating them, and realised Zulema started to cry. 

Seconds had passed, feeling like hours, but Zulema wouldn't stop. The sight lets Macarena feel something she didn't expect at all: a literal pain in her chest. The tumor . As if it was coming directly from her heart, the pain spreaded in all directions.

It was horrible. Unfamiliar. Zulema dying this way absolutely doesn't seem right , Maca thinks to herself, not at all . Like a misunderstanding. But she has to push the thought aside: It was wishful thinking , she admits to herself. Not reality.

Thus, being reminded of the tumor again, and therefore of Zulemas proximate and indispensable death, while directly looking at the painful picture of her crying, Macarena has a sudden realisation. And she makes a definitive decision. 

But the pain in her chest stays.

The sun was already red when Zulema came out of the water. While sitting down in the sand, next to Macarena, she asks her what she was thinking about. The blonde had been staring unceasingly into the red sun above the water during the last few minutes. 

"Do you remember this guy, i mean, this rapist? That attacked you on this exact beach all these years ago?" 

"Clearly. And what about it?" 

"I just had to think about how, back then, i simply pointed the gun at his head to scare him and made him leave that way. And how you literally yelled at me afterwards. ¿Porque coño no has disparado? " 

Zulema snorts at the imitation.

"You were so angry I didn't shoot him, I couldn't believe it. Well, and then, there was New Year's Eve. I..."

She takes a deep breath.

"I killed every single one of them. Shot them. Without even thinking about it. Like a robot. Boom boom boom. Like a cold machine without any feelings. And you? You only said I could have just shooted in the air to scare them and they would have been gone. I don't know. It's funny and scary at the same time." 

Maca stops talking. She felt as if she missed her point, as if she had forgotten what this comparison actually was about, therefore she decided to simply wait for an answer from Zulema. When she never receives one though, she tilts her head to the side, a questioning look on her face, the other woman doing it immediatly after her. 

And when their eyes lock, as so often, the point was suddenly crystal clear. It was one of these moments where they would communicate without words, understanding each other nevertheless. The fact hanging in the air between them was inevitable: They influenced each other. More than they actually wanted to. 

" Joder " they said simultaneously while tilting their head back to face the horizon. Silence sprawled between them. The sunlight seemed to have become even more red, bathing the ocean and beach in a burning light. 

After some minutes, Zulema hears Macarena asking "And you? What were you thinking about?". Obviously the blonde had seen her in the water. Crying.

Zulema in- and exhales deeply and looks around. She actually just wanted to absorb the view. She didn't want to talk. Not about it . Not with Macarena. But she also knew that now was the moment.

"Dying."

Her eyes fix the sun again. It now seemed to touch the water.

"I'm not scared, you know that. Everyone knows that. Death has and will never scare me. What always fucked me up was not being able to live the way i wanted to. To maybe get old in that damned filthy prison. I mean, yes, most people that know me probably think that it's exactly what i deserve. And aside from that they can kiss my ass, I understand why they are thinking this way. Fuck, i know i'm a damn psychopath. And I did unforgivable things, yes. But doesn't life fuck up all of us somewhen? Some earlier, some later, some less, some more. You just gave the perfect example by the way. And no, i'm not whining about my mother tainting me from the the day i was born or the asshole that violated me or the son of a bitch that took away my daughter and got me into prison in the end, where this bunch of other suffering begun. Though all these horrible things made me the way i am in the end, I never have. Because just like fear, it leads to nothing. It's just that..."

Zulema makes a pause and closes her eyes, tightening the grasp from her arms around her legs.

"I suddenly don't bear the thought of dying soon any longer. I don't want to. I really don't. I always thought that in the end, death is actually meaningless because everything goes on: there will still be christmases, summers, birthdays, elections...just that you're not here anymore"

She sighs.

"But maybe that's exactly the problem. When this putodoctor told me that I only have months left, it was the way i would die that made me furious, but not dying itself or when it was going to happen. Tarde o temprano, you know. But now that months have passed...I want to be here more than ever."

It seemed weird to say it out loud.

"Maybe it's this psychological thing where you want the most what you can have the least. But to tell the truth it's probably because..." - she holds her breath for some seconds - "Because life is a bit beautiful again" 

Her voice got more and more quiet during the sentence. She opens her eyes again. 

"I mean, i'm free. And while floating in the water i realised that i'm kind of in peace with myself and everything that's around me. Joder, I couldn't even remember the word peace. And at the moment I feel like I'm in the right place. I mean, look. Look around you!"

She lets her eyes wander around and points with her arms in every direction. 

Macarena does it after her, but there was this watery curtain im front of her pupils, blurring her sight. 

"Look! I want to see this EVERY fucking evening. But how many times am I going to see it again, huh? 6? 7?"

Zulema puts her hands beside her angled legs, into the sand, and looks to the side, away from Macarena, since she felt a pressure behind her eyes again. 

"Why now? Why? Am I destined to have not one single period of time in my life that i would define as beautiful? Just little moments that were punished with pain afterwards?"

She didn't even know if her voice had a rather ranting or whining tone. Maybe all at once. What she knew was that she probably shouldn't confess the following to the blonde AGAIN, but the words bubbled out of her without hold, just because the thought fucked her up so much.

"Why now that I feel for the first time in my life kind of at...at-" 

Her voice broke. 

"At home?" Maca whispers towards the horizon, hardly hearable. 

Nevertheless, Zulema heard a bit guilt out of it. And that the blonde was touched. Which slightly warmed her heart, if this was even possible.

"Yes" she confirmed quietly. 

After some moments of silence, she suddenly perceives a hand carefully taking her own that was still lying in the sand. Her arm automatically pulls back a bit as she startles, not having expected the touch at all. Her confused face turns into Macas direction. That's when she sees the tears rolling down on each of the blonde's cheeks. 

Macarena didn't know what had happened to her, why Zulema's words had touched her so profoundly or why she felt the need to comfort her at least a bit. But she actually couldn't care less at the moment. She only knew that she wanted to take her once worst enemie's hand. So all she could do when Zulema's eyes met her face was looking down to her sprawled out hand to encourage the other one to take it. 

Indeed, Zulema's features soften at the sight, and she finally glides her hand into the other one, even if a bit shyly.

The moment was unique. The red sun that seemed to plunge into the ocean, the light sound of the waves breaking, the warm breeze, the soft sand underneath their bodies; all these things enframed it beautifully. But what made the moment magical was the fact that the extraordinary story of the two women had in the end led to this exact moment. All these years of fighting, tearing down and attempted murders, but yet not getting along without each other and living together in a weird cooperation of purpose, led them to holding each other's hands in an emotional moment. Just because they had no one else. And because with all this history they have, they couldn't help but mean something to each other, no matter if in a positive or negative way. Or maybe both.

They stayed like this until the sun completely disappeared. It felt like an eternity, but that bothered neither of them.

When only a little corner of the sun was still visible on the horizon, projecting the last rays on the water, Zulema broke the silence again:

"We're not going to talk about this again" 

"Right" Maca replied. 

But their hands even squeezed a bit more.