“Those are the same flowers my mother brought me.” Valentina points to the flowers with her chin. “Those are the same flowers everybody brought me.”
Giraut shrugs his shoulders and throws the bouquet of flowers into the metal wastebasket next to the sink with the horizontal mirror. Marcia Parini has also received citations from the same redheaded, sickly-looking lawyer to testify in the preliminary hearings of the trial that Estefanía “Fanny” Giraut's lawyers have begun. The parties involved in the trial, in mutual agreement, are also considering the possibility of calling Valentina Parini to be present in said hearings. In the case that the doctors decide that it wouldn't be harmful to Valentina's treatment. The nurse chaperone stares at the bouquet inside the metal wastebasket. According to Giraut's lawyer, it is likely that Fanny Giraut's lawyer will try to discredit Marcia Parini as a mother unfit for custody of her daughter. It is also possible that they will bring up, as an aggravating factor in the case, a supposed romantic relationship between Marcia and Lucas Giraut.
“When they caught me hiding my pills they took away Stephen King's New Novel.” Valentina lowers her voice and moves closer to Lucas to speak to him in a confidential tone. “I have to get it back. My mother brought me another copy on the sly but they caught her, too. I need you to find a way to bring it to me. They have cameras everywhere. And microphones. It's almost impossible to hide stuff.”
Lucas Giraut looks out of the corner of his eye at the nurse chaperone seated at the back of the bathroom. She looks back at him with a neutral gaze and nods her head almost imperceptibly. The nurse chaperone doesn't look like the nurses in psychiatric centers that Lucas Giraut has seen in movies. She isn't stout or frowning and she looks like she'd rather be somewhere else. She's younger than Giraut and has svelte legs and the badly dyed hair and excessive makeup that one usually associates with women from working-class suburbs.
“I know how to get it in,” says Giraut. “But I don't know when I can come visit you again. My mother is trying to kick me out of the company.”
Valentina makes a gesture with her hand that is powerfully reminiscent of that gesture with which adults dismiss obviously irrelevant questions. Questions that are insignificant given the gravity of the circumstances. Valentina signals for Giraut to bring his ear close to her mouth. He does.
“I've discovered how they do it,” says Valentina in a whisper. “How they make everything work. Or make it seem like everything is working. They divide the population into five groups. Each group with their special instructions. There are the Repairers. Like the people that work here. The doctors and all that. There are the Developers. The scientists and the engineers and the people that work building machines and preparing their arrival. There are the Hunters. The ones who hunt people like us. They don't have to go around dressed as policemen or anything like that. It could be a little old lady that lives on your street and has known you all your life. Then there are the Providers, who make sure that they have food and all that. And the Priests. Who are the ones that talk to them and get their messages and create the transmissions for the population.” She pauses and moves a little bit away from Giraut's ear. “Those are the most dangerous.”
Giraut leans back against the chair. With his shoulders very straight and his arms crossed over his lap. He studies Valentina's soft face and straight hair over vaguely dull eyes. The nurse chaperone with too much makeup and svelte legs clears her throat.
“If you make her nervous I'm going to have to take her away.” The nurse uncrosses her legs that were crossed at knee height and immediately crosses them the opposite way. In a clearly nervous gesture. “You've been warned.”
“The most dangerous?” Giraut asks Valentina with a frown, in the exact moment that the door to the floor's communal bathroom opens and a second nurse enters, leading a sleepy little girl about seven years old by the hand. “Does this all have to do with the book by Stephen King?” He looks out of the corner of his eye at the nurse and the sleepy girl that have just come in. “Is that why you need a copy of the book?”
The girl with the sleepy face walks holding on to the second nurse's hand and seems to have some kind of psychomotor problem that gets in the way of her walking in a straight line. As she passes by Giraut's side she stares at him with glassy eyes. The nurse patiently guides her toward one of the toilet stalls. Giraut thinks he can see a bit of saliva on her chin.
“I'm talking about the Captors, of course.” Valentina grabs Giraut's arm. She stares at him with slightly squinted eyes. Like the eyes of someone who has a bit of a headache or who spends too much time looking at a computer screen. “It's them that did all this. I can't say that they're the ones who put me here. There are a lot of things I can't say. The cameras and the microphones aren't the only problem. They have a lot of ways to find out what we are saying here. Right now they're hiding. They fly over the city, but they're invisible. They're waiting for everything to be under control. Then they'll show themselves.” She looks at the nurse chaperone with something like malice. “At first they look like angels. Or that's what they say.”
The nurse clears her throat once again. She looks ill at ease.
“Sir,” she says.
“I'm not hearing voices!” Valentina raises her voice. “Who's hearing voices?”
The second nurse is gently pushing the sleepy-faced girl into the stall. The girl stopped walking when she got to the stall and is now grabbing the door frame with both hands. Letting out a soft noise similar to the mooing of a calf.
“It doesn't matter that you can't see them yet.” Valentina turns toward Giraut again with her brow slightly furrowed. Giraut notices a smell of urine. “The signs are there. Everywhere. Look at Barcelona. Didn't you ever ask yourself why nothing ever happens in Barcelona? People just shop, cook and go to work. They sleep and watch TV. Doesn't that seem suspicious to you? I mean, normally things happen. And everybody seems so happy…” She brings a tense hand to her inner thigh. “But they just seem that way. Because they're not them anymore.”
The nurse chaperone stands up in alarm. From the stall comes a sound of intestinal exertion that is somewhat reminiscent of the noises that opponents in martial arts movies make in the moments before attacking.
“Please.” Valentina looks intently at Giraut. “You have to make sure that at least one of us is still around. In case they erase my memories.”
A couple of nights ago, Lucas Giraut visited Marcia Parini's apartment with two deluxe set menus from the Thai/Japanese restaurant on their street and a copy of the movie Carrie in DVD. For some reason he didn't think it was a good idea to bring a bottle of wine. A seriously sedated Marcia Parini opened the door and then, after making some unintelligible comment, tried to kiss Giraut on the lips. Giraut turned his face so that the kiss landed on his cheek. Later Marcia and Giraut were sitting very close to one another on the sofa in the living room of the Parini house watching the movie. The same sofa where they both usually sat with Valentina to watch a movie almost every Sunday. Usually horror movies related to Stephen King's literary and film works. Remastered editions in DVD of Cujo and The Dead Zone and Misery and Children of the Corn. While watching Carrie, Marcia spent a good long while nibbling on Giraut's earlobe before falling asleep with her head resting on his shoulder. For some reason the main character in Carrie makes Giraut think of Valentina. For some reason he can't explain.
“Sir.” The nurse comes toward them with a worried face. “The girl has peed on herself, sir.”
Valentina moves even closer to Giraut and grabs him by the arms. She brings her lips close to his ear again.