and looked at herself in the mirror, there could be no doubt about it: she was Clara Reyes again. Her blonde hair, her skin with its open pores, old scars, the graphism of her life, her smells, the shapes from her past. She still had no body hair, of course, but this was an image she had come to accept. Her unprimed face recovered its old expressions, so different from the yellow monster that had so astonished Jorge. She was no longer painted, had no labels. It was not easy living without labels or paint, but she would have to get used to it.
And on the Friday afternoon, after having lunch and sleeping a lengthy siesta, she heard a gentle knocking at her door. Gerardo smiled as he came in.
'So this is what you look like without any paint on, sweetheart. The truth is I prefer you this way. The natural look, you might say'
She smiled back at him. She was sitting on her bed in pyjamas, her hair a mess, her eyes still full of sleep. She let herself be wrapped in Gerardo's arms, and discovered his presence made her very happy.
‘I heard you were getdng out today, and I wanted to come and see you,' Gerardo explained. 'Justus would have liked to come, too, but he suggested I come as an 'advance party'.' He laughed and his eyes shone, but he quickly became serious again. He had heard about the madman's attack and had been trying to see her ever since, even though he been told many times that she was fine. 'How are you really?' he asked. '1 don't know,' she replied frankly. ‘I suppose I'm fine.'
She felt as though she had been asleep and had woken up in hospital. She felt empty. I've been dreaming, she thought. But what happens when everything you are and have been forms part of the same dream?
They had time before they had to go to the airport. Did she want to say goodbye to anywhere in particular? he wanted to know. Clara looked at the newspapers crumpled on her bed. She had read that this Friday 21 July, 2006, they would finish dismantling the Tunnel.
'I'd like to go to the Museumplein to see how they're demolishing the Tunnel,' she said. 'No problem.'
Night had fallen, and stars were beginning to appear above the quiet waters of the canals. It was a splendid summer night. The moon shone brightly, trying to reach its own perfection. Gerardo drove with Clara towards the Museumplein.
‘I was thinking,' said Gerardo, breaking the intense silence, 'that I might travel to Madrid soon. I'd like to finish a painting I've left half completed,' he added with a smile.
Later on, she came to think of this as the exact moment when she realised Susanna had left her body completely. There in the dark seat of Gerardo's car, she touched her legs, her arms, her face, and was sure of it. Susanna had been rubbed out. From underneath, for good or ill, had emerged Clara Reyes. The event – she thought – had something of a frustrated attempt at divorce about it. Gerardo was talking to her. 'I'd like…'
He was making a series of sincere confessions which she could scarcely hear. But she understood that now she was Clara once more, she would have to get used to hearing sincere confessions again. Because Susanna was drifting off into the starry night sky. Susanna was floating through the immense tunnel of night, further and further away, increasingly indifferent. Welcome to the world, Clara. Welcome to reality.
The work in the Museumplein was being carried out calmly and skilfully. Several workmen undid each curtain panel: first one wall, then the other, finally the roof. They were advancing along the whole length of the horseshoe. They were not even stopping for the night: Amsterdam had to greet the new day without the Tunnel, dawn had to rise over the naked square, dotted with its usual statues and gardens.
Gerardo parked nearby, and they walked along looking upwards, like freshly arrived tourists.
'What do you feel?' he asked her. She was staring at the huge dismantling effort. 'I don't know. Hold me tight.' As they renewed their walk, she thought of a reply. 'It's as if I'm breathing for the first time,' she said. They walked on. Clara looked back over her shoulder.
At that moment they were undoing one of the roof panels. The immense square fell with the sound of distant waves, dragging its darkness with it. The clear moonlight effortlessly glided into the empty shade.
