Chapter 28: The Backyard
The house appeared between the trees exactly as I remembered it… and at the same time different.
It was the same wooden cabin, with the sloping roof and the crooked fence that had always threatened to fall over. Now it looked a little better cared for. There were potted plants on the porch, and the wood on the façade had a more recent varnish. My heart was beating with an absurd force, as if I were fifteen again and about to do something stupid.
I stopped in front of the fence for a long while.
There was no one in sight. The silence was only broken by the song of the cicadas and, further away, a constant, rhythmic sound: water being moved and fabric being scrubbed hard against a rough surface. The noise came from the side of the house, toward the backyard.
I hesitated.
Part of me wanted to turn around and go back the way I had come. Another part, stronger, pushed me to follow the sound.
I walked around the house with slow, almost silent steps. The backyard was small and shaded by two large trees whose branches intertwined overhead. There was an improvised concrete basin, stained from use, and next to it several pieces of clothing hung in a disorderly way on a rope clothesline.
And with her back to me, bent over the basin, was her.
I froze several meters away.
Even though I could only see her from behind, the body no longer belonged to the girl I used to spend summers with. The hips were clearly wider, the waist more defined, and her back had a soft curve that hadn't existed before. Her dark brown hair, with lighter strands burned by the sun, fell messily over her shoulders and stuck to her neck from the heat. Some longer strands reached the middle of her back and moved every time she scrubbed the clothes with force.
Camila.
The name hit me before I could consciously think it.
Eleven years.
She was still focused on what she was doing. Her arms moved with that same rough, direct rhythm I remembered from when we were kids. There was nothing delicate about the way she washed. She scrubbed the fabric against the board with energy, as if she had a personal grudge against it, and every now and then she shook the water off her hands with a sharp gesture. The sound of water and clothes being beaten filled the backyard.
I didn't move.
Nostalgia tightened my chest with unexpected force. Suddenly I remembered the afternoons by the river, the races through the trees, the way she used to push me when I got too serious. I also remembered all the times I stayed quiet when I should have spoken. All the times I glanced at her from the side and said nothing.
But there was something more.
The body in front of me was no longer that of the narrow-shouldered, scraped-knee tomboy. It was the body of a woman. And even though I could only see her from behind, that evidence was impossible to ignore. The way she leaned forward made the curve of her hips stand out clearly. Every movement of her arms caused a slight sway in her torso.
I swallowed.
The heat of the backyard suddenly felt denser. Sweat slid down the back of my neck. I still hadn't taken a single step or made a sound. As if moving would break something fragile.
She straightened up for a moment to stretch her back, wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, and bent over the basin again. Her hair slid to one side, leaving the nape of her neck and part of her shoulder more exposed.
I kept looking at her.
I didn't know how long I had been standing there. I only knew that I didn't want the moment to end yet. That once she turned around, everything would change. The nostalgia would become conversation. The eleven-year distance would become real. And I would have to face the fact that the girl from the past no longer existed exactly as I remembered her.
So I stayed silent, under the shade of the trees, watching her wash clothes as if time hadn't passed… knowing perfectly well that it had.
And that, at any moment, she was going to realize she was no longer alone.
End of Chapter 28