My name is Linda.
I was sixty when I first realized that I no longer recognized the woman who was looking at.s. me from the mirror.
It wasn’t because my hair would have turned gray.
It wasn’t because of the wrinkles on my face.
I just didn’t feel desirable anymore.
Robert and I had been married for thirty-seven years. He was not a bad husband. Quite the opposite. He was loving, loyal and had always been there for our family.
But over the last few years, something had slowly disappeared from our marriage.
The passion.
At first, I tried to get it back.
One night I bought new lingerie especially for him. Dark red, of the type I had not used in more than twenty years.
I let go of my hair.
I made up.
I wore the perfume that Robert loved when we were younger.
I stood in front of the mirror for a long time and, for the first time in months, I thought:
Maybe I can still surprise him.
Robert was sitting on the bed watching TV.
I walked into the bedroom and stood in front of him.
He looked up.
For a second, his eyes ran on me.
My heart was beating strongly.
Then he said:
“Aren’t you cold?”
I stared at it.
What?
The room is cool. Get something on, Linda.
And he turned his attention back to the TV.
I stayed there, with that expensive red lingerie, wishing the ground would open under my feet.
I went into the bathroom and locked the door.
For a long time, I observed my reflection.
That was the first night I asked myself:
Quizás Robert no sea el problema. Quizás simplemente ya no soy esa mujer.
A few weeks later, I tried again.
I made a romantic dinner.
