He looks at me as if waiting for an approval from me when we are already in front of the place and opens the small plastic window the size of his hand, pressing the button behind it. There's a creak and the massive garage doors swing up, sticking to the ceiling.
Inside there is a spacious and well decorated room, as if it were a room that only lacks windows to look like any other. The ash gray of the walls, added to the large tiles that reflect everything like a mirror, make the place appear to be much more spacious than it already is.
Three cars are parked facing us, side by side, but the second is the one that is most familiar to me. I take a few steps to position myself in front of the driver's door and look at Samuel, who remains in his place and only approaches when I signal him.
Samuel: You don't have to do this, I can ...
May (I interrupt): The only thing you can do right now is open this door.
He averts his gaze, which until then was focused on me, and reaches into one of his pants pockets, pulling out the set of keys. I take a step back the moment he opens the door and walk over when he's taken his seat. He lowers the window and I lean against the empty gap that is generated by the absence of glass.
Samuel: I swear I don't know what to say.
He says in a relaxed tone. I find it strange to see him behind the wheel dressed casually: without a suit, much less a symmetrical hairstyle. If I did not know him and I crossed him like that on the street, I would mistake him for any other boy I usually know through the economic and social class of my family. A rich young man, well dressed, with a high-end car bought by his parents, like everything that exists and gives meaning to his false life. Which usually happens with nine out of ten teenagers of my type.
May: Don't say anything then.
I answer by running a small lock of hair that sticks out from under her hat and covers a large part of her face. He closes his eyes when he feels the contact of my fingers with his forehead, as if he wants that to not end and when he opens them he stares at me for several seconds that seem like an eternity. I smile, stroking her cheek, and she undoes her belt in a quick motion. He yanks the door open, making me run backwards again, this time bumping my back into the door of the vehicle next to me. Leave the car leaving the door open. His gaze makes me nervous and even scares me when he approaches me. He takes me by the nape, pulling me towards him and captures my lips making them fit with his as if they were part of the same puzzle disassembled.
Samuel: When are they coming back? (Asks after parting with me).
May: I don't know. Before the weekend I guess (I respond remembering that it is Wednesday).
Sighs.
May: Well, the sooner you get out, the faster you get there.
He nods and I can't help but hug him from the way he looks at me. The concern and pain reflected in his eyes move me. I remember the cemetery we were in three days before, where he told me about his past, mentioning his father's abandonment and the love he has had for his mother ever since. I think of his younger brother and how lonely he must feel right now without Samuel by his side. I hold onto his shoulder, rubbing his back and uttering a "It's going to be okay" before releasing him. A tender smile forms on her lips. He takes my face with both hands, caressing my cheekbones gently, leaves a heartfelt kiss on my forehead and leaves, resuming his seat. I'm already by his side when he starts the engine. He looks at me through the open window and holds his hand out to take mine.
Samuel: Thank you, seriously. I can't believe a girl like you would do something like this.
May: I can't even believe I'm doing it, so go away before I regret it.
Laugh
May: Call me when you get there.
Samuel (nods): Obvious.
He says while still taking his eyes off me, as if he didn't even think about speeding up. He emits a smile similar to that of a mischievous child, sticking his head out the window and snorting, putting our lips together again.
- May where are you?
I snap apart.
- MAY!
I listen even closer to me, noticing that it is not a simple call but a scream and it does not take me long to recognize that grave and harsh voice that only a person who stays in this house can have. My father.