Fata ezit\u0103 o clip\u0103, de parc\u0103 se temea s\u0103 spun\u0103 mai mult. Apoi, cu vocea abia auzit\u0103, ad\u0103ug\u0103: \u201eMama mea… a murit acum dou\u0103zeci \u0219i trei de ani. \u00centr-un accident de ma\u0219in\u0103, aproape de Girona.\u201d<\/p>\n
Gabriel sim\u021bi cum s\u00e2ngele i se scurge din obraji. Cu\u021bitul \u00eei alunec\u0103 din m\u00e2n\u0103 \u0219i lovi farfuria cu un zgomot sec. Tot restaurantul p\u0103ru s\u0103 se estompeze, r\u0103m\u00e2n\u00e2nd doar ea, t\u00e2n\u0103ra cu ochii verzi, \u0219i ecoul cuvintelor ei.<\/p>\n
\u201eCum… cum o chema pe mama ta?\u201d, reu\u0219i el s\u0103 \u00eentrebe, cu vocea r\u0103gu\u0219it\u0103.
\u201eAna. Ana Marin.\u201d<\/p>\n
Inima lui Gabriel se opri o clip\u0103. Totul \u00een jur deveni o cea\u021b\u0103. Era imposibil. Ana murise atunci, v\u0103zuse sicriul, fusese acolo… \u0219i totu\u0219i, \u00een fa\u021ba lui st\u0103tea o fat\u0103 care-i sem\u0103na izbitor, cu acela\u0219i z\u00e2mbet timid, acela\u0219i fel de a-\u0219i mi\u0219ca m\u00e2inile.<\/p>\n
Fata p\u0103rea la fel de tulburat\u0103. \u201eScuza\u021bi-m\u0103, domnule… n-ar fi trebuit s\u0103 spun nimic. E doar o coinciden\u021b\u0103, nu-i a\u0219a?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dar Gabriel \u0219tia. \u00cen ad\u00e2ncul inimii sale, \u0219tia c\u0103 nu era nicio coinciden\u021b\u0103.
\u201eAna… Marin…\u201d a repetat el, cu ochii umezi. \u201eUnde s-a n\u0103scut mama ta?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201e\u00centr-un sat mic, aproape de Cluj. A venit \u00een Spania c\u00e2nd era t\u00e2n\u0103r\u0103. Nu vorbea prea mult despre trecut, doar spunea c\u0103 a iubit odat\u0103 un b\u0103rbat care f\u0103cea vin \u0219i c\u0103 via\u021ba lor s-a terminat \u00eenainte s\u0103 \u00eenceap\u0103 cu adev\u0103rat.\u201d<\/p>\n
Gabriel \u00ee\u0219i duse m\u00e2na la gur\u0103. \u00cei tremura tot corpul. \u00cen acel moment, toate piesele se potriveau. Ana fusese luat\u0103 de medici imediat dup\u0103 accident. El n-o mai v\u0103zuse, doar i se spusese c\u0103 trupul fusese ars. Poate… poate nu fusese ea.<\/p>\n
\u201eCum te cheam\u0103?\u201d, \u00eentreb\u0103 el, \u00eencerc\u00e2nd s\u0103-\u0219i st\u0103p\u00e2neasc\u0103 vocea.
\u201eMara\u201d, spuse ea. \u201eMara Marin.\u201d<\/p>\n
Gabriel nu mai putu spune nimic. \u00cei sim\u021bea fiecare b\u0103taie a inimii \u00een t\u00e2mple. Se ridic\u0103 \u00eencet de la mas\u0103, scoase portofelul \u0219i l\u0103s\u0103 c\u00e2teva sute de lei pe farfurie. \u201eTrebuie s\u0103 ie\u0219im pu\u021bin. Te rog.\u201d<\/p>\n
Fata \u00eel privi ne\u00eencrez\u0103toare, dar ceva \u00een tonul lui o f\u0103cu s\u0103 accepte. Au ie\u0219it afar\u0103, \u00een aerul rece de noiembrie. Str\u0103zile \u00eenguste ale cartierului gotic frem\u0103tau de lumini \u0219i zgomote, dar pentru ei timpul p\u0103rea s\u0103 se fi oprit.<\/p>\n
\u201eMara\u201d, spuse el, privindu-o drept \u00een ochi. \u201eAna… mama ta… era iubirea vie\u021bii mele.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ea \u00ee\u0219i acoperi gura cu m\u00e2na, \u0219ocat\u0103. \u201eAsta nu… nu se poate…\u201d
\u201eAvea un inel ca acesta, nu-i a\u0219a?\u201d \u00eentreb\u0103 el, ar\u0103t\u00e2nd bijuteria.
Fata d\u0103du din cap, lacrimile str\u0103lucindu-i \u00een ochi. \u201eDa. \u00cel purta mereu. Spunea c\u0103 e singurul lucru pe care nu-l va da niciodat\u0103 nim\u0103nui.\u201d<\/p>\n
Gabriel sim\u021bi cum \u00eel cuprinde o emo\u021bie pe care nu o mai tr\u0103ise de zeci de ani. \u00centreb\u0103rile \u00eel asaltau: unde fusese Ana? De ce nu-l c\u0103utase? De ce l\u0103sase o fiic\u0103 care, acum, st\u0103tea \u00een fa\u021ba lui?<\/p>\n
Dar Mara scoase ceva din buzunar. O fotografie veche, \u00eendoit\u0103 la col\u021buri. Era Ana, mai t\u00e2n\u0103r\u0103, \u021bin\u00e2nd un bebelu\u0219 \u00een bra\u021be. Pe spate, o scrisoare scurt\u0103, scris\u0103 cu cerneal\u0103 albastr\u0103:
\u201ePentru el, care nu va \u0219ti niciodat\u0103. Te iubesc mereu.\u201d<\/p>\n
Gabriel izbucni \u00een lacrimi. 23 de ani tr\u0103ise crez\u00e2nd c\u0103 iubirea vie\u021bii lui murise. \u0218i tot acest timp, o parte din ea crescuse, respirase \u0219i tr\u0103ise chiar acolo, \u00een lumea lui.<\/p>\n
Au stat acolo, pe o banc\u0103 din piatr\u0103, ore \u00eentregi, povestind. Despre Ana, despre via\u021ba ei, despre cum fusese salvat\u0103 de localnici dup\u0103 accident \u0219i cum, crez\u00e2nd c\u0103 Gabriel murise, alesese s\u0103 dispar\u0103. Despre cum crescuse Mara cu pove\u0219ti despre un tat\u0103 care f\u0103cea vin \u0219i r\u00e2dea cu soarele \u00een spate.<\/p>\n
C\u00e2nd zorii s-au ivit peste Barcelona, Gabriel sim\u021bea c\u0103 tr\u0103ie\u0219te din nou. \u00cei \u021binea m\u00e2inile fetei \u00een ale sale, ca pe cea mai pre\u021bioas\u0103 comoar\u0103.<\/p>\n
\u201eNu pot s\u0103-\u021bi \u00eentorc anii pierdu\u021bi, Mara\u201d, i-a spus cu glasul fr\u00e2nt, \u201edar pot s\u0103-\u021bi dau tot ce am de acum \u00eenainte.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ea a z\u00e2mbit printre lacrimi. \u201eAtunci s\u0103 \u00eencepem cu un mic dejun rom\u00e2nesc. Mama spunea c\u0103 nicio zi important\u0103 nu \u00eencepe f\u0103r\u0103 o can\u0103 de lapte cald \u0219i p\u00e2ine cu miere.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u0218i, pentru prima dat\u0103 dup\u0103 23 de ani, Gabriel a sim\u021bit c\u0103 via\u021ba are din nou gust. Gustul dulce al reg\u0103sirii.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Fata ezit\u0103 o clip\u0103, de parc\u0103 se temea s\u0103 spun\u0103 mai mult. Apoi, cu vocea abia auzit\u0103, ad\u0103ug\u0103: \u201eMama mea… a murit acum dou\u0103zeci \u0219i trei de ani. \u00centr-un accident de ma\u0219in\u0103, aproape de Girona.\u201d Gabriel sim\u021bi cum s\u00e2ngele i se scurge din obraji. Cu\u021bitul \u00eei alunec\u0103 din m\u00e2n\u0103 \u0219i lovi farfuria cu un zgomot […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":10613,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[18],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-10612","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-povesti"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10612","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=10612"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10612\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10614,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10612\/revisions\/10614"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/10613"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=10612"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=10612"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bumzi.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=10612"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}