The Sickness by Alberto Barrera Tyszka Page A

think she was, he roared before slamming down the phone. Karina was left shaking. She managed to keep a grip on herself in front of the patients in the waiting room, but immediately got up and walked down the corridor to the restroom. While still managing to remain calm, she was nevertheless aware of the occasional internal shudder: Durán’s shouts, or at least their echo, were in her body, trapped inside. When she looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes filled with tears. She felt ridiculous, furious, stupid. She washed her face, hoping to salvage a little of her pride from that cold water.
    The following day, however, she was surprised to find a small box of chocolates and a little note waiting for her. Durán was asking her forgiveness. Half an hour later, he did so again over the phone. Karina treated him rather coolly, with a certain haughtiness in her curt, discreet replies, but it was clear that she was touched by the gesture. Durán, moreover, tried to go a little further, to put his case and explain his sense of urgency. Karina softened her tone somewhat and, in a spirit of camaraderie, explained that there was no point in making any further attempt to contact the doctor. She suggested an alternative strategy: when Dr. Miranda was able to see him again, she herself would phone to arrange an appointment. When they said goodbye, neither of them felt much faith in the other. A whole week passed without a single “Hello” or “Good afternoon” from Ernesto Durán. Karina even came to
the conclusion that he must finally have resigned himself to the situation. Then the first e-mail appeared. Then the second. Then the third. She read them all carefully. Although she was reluctant to admit it, she found them rather touching. She showed them to Adelaida, and they both agreed that Durán was clearly desperate and utterly sincere in what he wrote, that he was, in short, a sensitive man in difficulties. Adelaida even remarked that Dr. Miranda’s attitude seemed most unfair.
    â€œAre you going to show him the latest e-mails?”
    â€œCertainly not.”
    Karina knew her boss well. He had been absolutely clear on the matter: “If he phones, I’m not in.”
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    Karina prints out the third e-mail and takes it with her to the small restaurant where the two friends have lunch together at least once a week. As well as the paella—which usually contains more onion and peppers than creatures of the sea—any new snippet of news from Durán always lights up the meal. They had both tried to imagine what life must be like for a man in the grip of such a vast, corrosive, potent fear. The two women felt moved when they read about the terrible sensations that assailed Durán whenever he felt he was about to faint. They also followed with great interest the tale of his failed encounter with the therapist Dr. Miranda had recommended. But they want more. Adelaida wonders what he does for a job.
    â€œHe sounds to me like some sort of administrator.”
    â€œNo, I don’t think he’s studied at all, he just works for the phone company as some kind of assistant.”

    Karina would also like to know more about his family life. When he got married and when he got divorced, for example. She finds it odd that he says nothing about his private life. What really happened with his ex-wife? Does he have a girlfriend now?
    On this occasion, however, Karina seems less enthusiastic. She suspects that the new letter will answer none of these questions. Adelaida cannot contain her curiosity. Nor can she understand why the look on Karina’s face has been one of fear and alarm ever since they set off for lunch together, ever since her friend announced the arrival of another e-mail.
    â€œWhat’s wrong? Tell me.”
    â€œI’m afraid, that’s what’s wrong.”
    â€œWhy? What does the letter say?”
    â€œI only read the first