Red Desert - Point of No Return Read online

  I looked at him, still perplexed about how I should have reacted to his confession.

  “Finally, this morning, I received a call from my lawyer, who confirmed the legal separation was official, starting from today. So then I knew I couldn’t postpone anymore.”

  I continued to stare at him, without saying a word.

  “Can you understand me? Hasn’t it ever happened to you, where you’ve postponed something as long as possible to avoid hurting someone you love?”

  I recalled Dennis Francis’s proposal, and the fact that when I told Jan I’d kept things vague on the matter. I had talked about my possible involvement in a manned mission to Mars, but had omitted the part about establishing a colony on the planet, where people would live for the rest of their days.

  I don’t know what expression crossed my face in those moments, but it somehow persuaded Jan to keep on justifying his behaviour.

  “You know the day we bumped into each other, near the Grand Place.” He raised a smile. “I was in a hurry, because I had a meeting with my wife at our marriage counsellor. I was late again, for the umpteenth time. We had already been separated for some months, but she insisted on us making a last try. I’d agreed verbally, but maybe unconsciously I didn’t believe it would be of any use. This is probably why I kept on being late.”

  “That day, after seeing you, talking to you, at once I understood what had always been right in front of me, but I hadn’t seen, until then. I didn’t love her anymore, that’s all.”

  “After calling you and you agreeing to see me that evening, I went straight to the counsellor’s office and told my wife I wanted a divorce.”

  I sat with my mouth open for a moment, while his inquisitive eyes inspected me, trying to understand what was going through my mind. Little by little, whilst listening to him I realised how his secret wasn’t serious at all, and actually it was nothing compared to what I was hiding from him. A compelling desire to catch the moment and be completely sincere with him burned inside me. But I was a coward.

  I moved closer and I kissed him, taking him by surprise. He cuddled me and, when our lips separated, I did nothing but whisper, “I love you, too.”

  I knew it couldn’t really be true. If I had loved him for real, I would have told him the truth.

  “The truth is that, in spite of the terrible things I told you, in spite of the fact I pushed you away and that I knew full well that you were going on a journey from which you were unlikely to return … well, in my heart I never stopped waiting for you. And I’m still waiting for you.” He smiles, but he can’t hide his worry. “I don’t know what you are thinking right now, but if you believe there’s no way out for you, you’re wrong. They really are preparing a mission to bring you home. And, when you are back, you’ll find me waiting for you, if you want me. Perhaps I should have accepted your proposal. I hope it’s not too late to do it when you return.” He stops again, but continues staring at the camera. He sighs. “Go back to Station Alpha, please.” His words are broken by emotion. “I love you.”

  I can hardly see Jan’s image on the screen. My eyes are full of tears. I blame myself for not connecting to the satellite earlier, when I still had the option to go back. Maybe I could have done it, abandoned my resolutions and faced whatever was happening at the station, to do what he was asking of me.

  It’s also true that I wouldn’t have been judging the situation with a clear mind.

  But it’s too late now. I left more than thirty hours ago and I only have twenty-six hours left, including the air reserve in the suit. To have a chance to make it, I should go back right now and never sleep during the journey. But I didn’t rest enough last night. I would end up losing control of the rover and damaging it irreparably. Then I would spend my last hours kicking myself for giving up when I was so close.

  It’s the brightest hour of the day. I look at the canyon stretching out in front of me and try to breathe deeply. Little by little I calm down.

  It had been years since I last saw Jan. Our separation was the most painful experience of my life. I succeeded in getting through it because inside I knew I was about to do something extraordinary, which was far more important than my personal feelings for another human being. I did not want to choose between him and the mission, but destiny put me to the test by letting me meet the two of them at the same time. I’ve always thought that things happen for a reason, but, as much as I tried to rationalise the situation, I couldn’t find a way to reconcile both of them. Not one that Jan was ready to accept.

  He had considered me an egoist and I had hated him because of that. Because I actually felt that, if I had abandoned the mission for him, then I would have been an egoist. Because I wanted him more than the mission. But life has always taught me that the things we want most are those which make us suffer, as it happened to my mother. You live better if you stay away from them.

  Then I left Earth and everything began. For a while I felt fulfilled, almost happy. I started thinking about him less and less. If a person lives hundreds million kilometres away, it’s like they’re dead. What’s the difference? I convinced myself that he felt the same. But I was clearly wrong.

  I feel guilty for having made him suffer. But right now, after what I’ve found out, I cannot blame myself for being here. With a little luck I will soon face the reason why I came to Mars. I didn’t know it when I left, but I can glimpse it now.

  I turn again to the virtual screen, where Jan’s frozen image stares back at me. I touch the icon that reads ‘reply with text’. A window partly overlays his handsome face. A blank sheet with a blinking cursor. My hands move on the keyboard without hesitation. Words appear one after the other. Then I press the send button. I wait for the confirmation of the transmission and then I close the connection to the satellite. I won’t open it again until I reach my target. I don’t want any other distractions.

  I check the time. It’s past midday; I only have six hours of light. I must get moving. I turn on the rover’s engine again and set off.

  “I guess you knocked on the wrong door.” Omar’s gaze was tired and he looked annoyed by the intrusion.

  “I don’t think so,” I replied. “Omar Jibril?”

  When he heard me pronouncing his name, he seemed to take an interest in my presence.

  “Yes …” He studied me from behind his glasses. “How do you know my name?”

  “My name is Anna Persson,” I said but, since it seemed not to elicit any particular reaction, I specified: “Daughter of Birgit Persson.”

  His face contracted. He was trying to hide his turmoil, but it was evident that I had caught him by surprise. He kept on watching me for a few seconds, then without saying a word he hastened to close the door, but it was blocked by something. Alarmed, he looked down and saw my foot stuck between it and the jamb.

  “Go away,” he shouted, determined. “Or I’ll call security!” He slammed the door several more times, trying to dismiss me, but I endured the pain and started pushing with my arms from the opposite side.

  “Even if you shut me outside, I’m staying here. Maybe I’ll have a nice chat with your wife,” I menaced him. “Have you told her that when you were engaged and you attended university in Stockholm you got a girl pregnant? I bet you didn’t.”

  Omar stopped pushing at once. I saw his shadow walking away. So I flung the door open. He was beside the window staring at the darkness beyond the glass. I entered and closed the door behind me.

  “I just came to talk,” I started.

  “We have nothing to say,” he said. His voice was controlled, but he avoided looking in my direction. I couldn’t understand whether he felt shame for having abandoned me or just disgust for being forced to stay in the same room as me.

  “I had left her some money for an abortion. It was her decision to keep you. I didn’t agree, but she refused to listen to me. I had no other choice but to leave. It was the best thing for everybody.”

  My mother always described him to me as
gentle but inflexible, sweet but intransigent. Only now did I understand what she meant. He had decided I shouldn’t be born, so I wasn’t part of his life. Even though I was in front of him, I didn’t exist. My point of view had no meaning.

  I should have felt hurt by his attitude, but he had never really been there and my mother had done nothing to make me either miss or idealise him. So why was I there? I’d been thinking about it for a long time, and I knew I had a very important reason, but now I couldn’t remember it.

  “Mum died four years ago.”

  His body started for a brief moment, and then he turned to me.

  “I’m sorry.” He looked sincere. He didn’t care about me, but that news had struck him. Perhaps in his particular way he had felt something important for her, which time hadn’t completely erased.

  He was scrutinising me, searching for a way to make me go away. I don’t think he knew how to do that.

  I sighed. “I don’t know what I was looking for when I came here,” I said. “I just felt I had to do it.”

  ‘Before leaving this planet.’

  With extreme caution, I moved closer to him. He remained still. Each step of mine seemed to make him even more nervous, as if I were something horrible and dangerous.

  “If you have something to say, then say it and go away!” He addressed me with a hatred I couldn’t comprehend.

  “Why don’t you want to talk to me?” All at once I was begging him. I could hardly contain my tears. “What have I done to you? I haven’t come to ruin your life, but only to meet you, to talk to you for the first and last time.”

  It was like addressing a wall. His coldness hurt more than I thought. Without realising it I had started weeping quietly.

  “I’m your daughter …” I murmured with my voice broken by tears.

  He looked at me. I could discern anger in his eyes. “When I met your mother, she and her friends were renowned for shagging half of the faculty. Who says you are really my daughter?”

  “Bastard!” I shouted, pouncing on him and hitting his chest with my fists. He was taller and stronger than me, and he could have hurled me away with no effort. Instead, he did nothing. He ignored my aggression as well. Then he seized my wrists.

  “Look at me,” I exclaimed. “Look at my body, my hair, my eyes, my face … how can you say I’m not your daughter?”

  “Anna,” he said with extreme calmness. My heart skipped a beat when I heard him say my name. “You have to go, now.” He said it with a tone that didn’t allow a reply.

  In that moment I understood I had no chance with him. I had to leave everything behind, including my father.

  I lowered my arms and he released my wrists. I stepped back, once more, and again. I took a last grieved look at him, but he had already lowered his face and was just waiting for me to go.

  I turned and headed towards the door. Then I saw his laptop on the table. It was switched on and the wallpaper was a picture of him with his wife and three other people. There were two boys and a girl. The girl’s head was wrapped in a veil that left just her face uncovered, but from what I could make out she was no older than fifteen. Omar was just behind her and hugged her with tenderness. At the sight of that smiling and happy family I felt a stab of jealousy. It was so intense that it paralysed me. Then it became rage.

  I noticed the silver-handled paper knife resting on a notebook with the hotel’s logo. I realised nobody knew I was there, in Germany. In two days I would take a flight from Stockholm to the United States. I had returned to Europe just to arrange a few last things before my departure. I had told nobody about this brief diversion, nor had I revealed that I’d traced my father to anybody. Anyway I would be unreachable in a week. Even if they discovered something, I’d be out of any jurisdiction for the rest of my life.

  All that crossed my mind in a little more than a second. Then I seized the paper cutter and turned to him. He looked at me, bewildered, but before he noticed what I was holding in my hand I jumped at him and, using all the strength I was capable of, I plunged the blade into his abdomen.

  His arrogant expression disappeared, and fear took its place.

  I saw his terror and realised what I had done. Overwhelmed by panic, I released my grip on the paper cutter and I backed off.

  He kept staring at me, and placed a hand on his wound. When he removed it, it was covered in blood. Growing bigger by the second, a stain was forming on his grey jumper. He looked at me once more, and I caught sight of an unusual serenity in his face. He cracked a smile, which transformed into a grimace of pain. He tried to step forward, but his body swayed and fell to the floor with a thud.

  For a long instant I watched him, and then regained control. I looked around, to reassure myself that nobody had seen me, and then I ran from the room. Once I reached the corridor, I tried to walk normally, keeping my hands covered and my bloody gloves in my pockets.

  While descending the stairs, I met her. Leila, his wife. I avoided her gaze and kept on going down. When I reached the lobby, I imagined her arriving in front of the door, inserting the electronic key and opening it.

  I was leaving the hotel when I heard her screaming in the distance.

  Sometimes I looked at him, secretly, while he was writing in his studio, lit by a wide glass wall overlooking the garden. He was so absorbed he didn’t notice me. His hands seemed to dance on the keyboard, like those of a pianist. He stared at the screen, but the expression on his face changed, interpreting his stories, moment by moment as he created them. Sometimes he smiled, or his face contracted in dismay. He stopped his writing for a moment and gestured, while his lips slurred his characters’ words. Then, with renewed passion, his fingers went back to work, tireless.

  He could go on like this for hours, losing all sense of time. Who knows how he lived those moments; perhaps he saw himself inside the story, while reality around him disappeared. What I perceived in his eyes was pure happiness, something with which I could have never competed.

  We had been together for more than three years having moved almost immediately to Houston, so that I could attend the training at the Johnson Space Center. Any place was alright for his job, even if from time to time he had to go to Europe or Canada for the promotional tour of a book. Nevertheless our relationship had become stronger, going beyond the initial passion and allowing our feelings to grow.

  The divorce proceedings progressed slowly, although I didn’t mind somehow. The enthusiasm he felt toward our affair was something palpable and if he had had the chance, he would have proposed to me for sure. For the last few months that thought had often crossed my mind, but it made me feel so uncomfortable that I tried to dismiss it. It was pointless wasting time figuring out how our life together would be. I wouldn’t have known what the future had in store for me until the conclusion of the training, and the remaining three crew members of the Isis were chosen.

  I’d waited a long time for that day to come and had repeated the speech to myself many times. While doing so I’d felt strong in my beliefs, sure he would understand. But now, while watching him in secret, like he was under a spell, all my certainties evaporated in a moment. I felt petty to have hidden the truth from him for all that time, to have deluded him about a future that would never exist. And for the harm I was about to do him.

  “I’d like to read your last novel,” I said all of a sudden. I had read all his books translated into English, but some never left the Francophone market, and this last one would surely do it too late.

  Hearing my voice, Jan raised his gaze from the screen and saw me. In a moment his face lit up.

  “Hey, baby, how long have you been there?”

  He stood up and came closer to me.

  “A few minutes.” I tried to smile at him, even if I felt like I was dying.

  He welcomed me with a kiss, but then he paused to look me in the eye. I sensed him reading the apprehension I was feeling.

  “First of all, you should learn French,” he made fun of me. He had off
ered to teach it to me many times and I had always wheeled out some excuse, because I really didn’t fancy that. It had become a kind of joke between us.

  Even though his family was Flemish and therefore his mother tongue was Dutch, like everybody in Belgium he was bilingual and had studied for a long time to have the maximum mastery of French, which was much more useful for his literary ambitions. Now that he lived in America, he could count on new opportunities to have his books translated, although he did hope to be able to write directly in English one day, which would allow him to make a further leap in his career.

  “You know very well that what I like most about French is that I don’t understand it,” I commented laughing. “If I learnt it, it’d end up losing all its mysterious charm. And anyway, it’d be no use to me.”

  “Really?” He pretended indignation. “Well, yeah, you are right,” he continued, teasing. “It isn’t really as useful as Swedish!” I tapped him, which made him laugh even more. “In fact, you know what? When we are married, I promise I’ll learn your language, so that you’ll feel forced to learn mine.”

  All my hilarity disappeared in a brief moment.

  “What’s up?” he asked, alarmed. “Everything alright?”

  I sighed, searching for the right words. It was time to talk; I couldn’t defer it any more. “We got the results today.”

  The importance of the news and the sad expression on my face brought him to the wrong conclusion. “Oh God, baby, I’m sorry,” he said, hugging me. “Sorry, I’m just prattling … I didn’t even know today was the big day.”

  Feeling I was contracting in his arms, he let me go and watched me with an inquisitive gaze. No doubt he couldn’t understand why I was pushing him away.

  I stepped away from him and turned my back. I couldn’t face telling him while looking him in the eye. I hated myself for getting in that situation. I had kept on lying to make him stand by me as long as possible. I wanted him to love me without being influenced by my intentions.