Breakfast didn't come alone.

Sean walked in on the heels of the guy pushing the tray into the suite. He nodded hi with his usual poker face and commented they had some interviews booked before going to the stadium.

Jo came next, with the excuse of asking Sean something.

Deborah was only third, to ask Jim if he wanted any particular place in the hotel for the interviews.

Then it was Tom, looking for his green tennis.

And Claudia to ask what plans her friend had for the day.

When Walt and Liam dropped by to ask for directions to the spa, the population density in Jim's suite made Calcutta look like the Asian branch of the Sahara.

Jim and Silvia accepted the invasion like the most natural thing. He was wearing only his swimming trunks, and she wore one of his tees on her leggings, barefoot like him. They welcomed everybody with a calm smile from the table by the balcony, and the others couldn't believe how fresh and cool they looked.

Jo noticed that if the first night they had radiated that persistent feeling of unity, now they were like a wall built out of a single block of granite.

Since the musicians would be busy, the women decided it was time to show Jo around and go to the stadium after the sound check. Nobody objected to that, and Jo and Claudia left to get ready. When they were back for Silvia, Jim reached out to her from the table. He took her hand to bring her to his side and they traded a look and a warm smile.

"Behave, woman," he said, offering her his lips to kiss, not his cheek.

"Boring," she replied, and gave him a peck. "Later, honey."

The three women left and Jim resumed his breakfast, ignoring the way the others turned to watch Silvia walk out, refusing to believe what they'd just witnessed. Most of them had never seen him treat a woman in such an intimate way, basically because he never let women linger around until breakfast. And those who had, tried to stomach all the implications.

Until Deborah glanced at the time and kicked everybody back to business.

Claudia noticed her friend was fine in a sort of weird way. She wished Jo weren't there with them, because it was a conversation to have in their own language, and they would never be so rude to her.

Silvia knew Claudia was dying to conduct a full-out interrogation about the night before, and was relieved to be spared. Anything she might say would sound plain insane to anybody who hadn't been in her shoes.

She and Jim hadn't even thought about discussing what had happened in the trailer. Like she used to say, living it had been more than enough. As sick as it might seem from the outside, that violent episode had brought them closer together.

Now they both knew their own limits, and that they were willing to fight their guts not to lose each other. She hadn't walked out on him, slamming the door shut in his face. She'd stayed instead, to try to get through to him. He hadn't given in to his impulses only to keep from hurting her, and he'd let her reach through to him to help him back to his senses.

It hadn't been easy for them, and they would most likely pay for it in health and sanity. It had left them empty and brittle. Those leaving the stadium were but shaky, empty puppets, leaning on each other to take every step. Drowned in that numb exhaustion, being together had been the only thing that had helped them move on and start cleaning up the ravaged rubble the storm had left on its wake.

But now they knew. He would protect her from himself. She would give up her pride for him.

First with silence, later with small talk, they hadn't even noticed they were creating a space they couldn't share with anyone else but each other. And at the same time, they'd been forced to face that thing they didn't seek nor want. That thing they couldn't reject either.

A messy, crazy cake iced by the bare fact that this windy Sunday was their last day together.

They hadn't even mentioned it because they didn't have the slightest idea what was next for them.

The task of the week had grown old. Talking about love or future made no sense. They would never be just friends again. They hadn't even wasted a single thought on the ludicrous idea of asking the other to just give up their whole life to be together.

So, draw.

Nothing.

A black hole.

That was what they were facing: a point of zero mass and infinite density, eager to swallow up the whole universe.

You don't fight black holes, Silvia thought as they took Jo around Puerto Madero. You let them swallow you or you move to the universe next door.

The universe next door had a life expectation that fluctuated between five minutes and two hours, refreshing constantly. So Silvia and Jim had grabbed a bite to went out on a picnic to that universe, expiration date on Monday noon.

That day, at that hour, each would take a plane back to their lives. They would come to terms with that thing inside of them, act on it, tell each other about it.

Or not.

How could they tell from the picnic?

So a peck goodbye and later, honey. Because they were still the friends, the lovers, the companions. And that was the right thing to say to such a person, no ceremony, no hiding.