16
He’s getting into his car when Cecilia calls.
“Hi, Marcos. You’re pixelated. Hello? Can you hear me? Can you see me?”
“Hi, Cecilia. Hello. Yes, I can hear you, but not well.”
“Marc—”
The call cuts out. He drives for a while, pulls over, and then dials her number.
“Hi, Cecilia. The signal was bad back there.”
“I heard about your father. Nelly called to tell me. How are you doing? Do you want some company?”
“I’m fine. Thanks, but I’d rather be alone.”
“I understand. Are you having a farewell service?”
“Marisa’s going to do it.”
“Of course, that’s to be expected. Do you want me to go?”
“No, but thanks. I don’t even know if I’ll go.”
“I miss you, do you know that?”
He’s silent. It’s the first time she’s said she misses him since she left.
She continues, “You look different, strange.”
“I’m the same.”
“It’s just that for a while now you’ve seemed more distant.”
“You don’t want to come home. Do you expect me to spend my whole life waiting for you?”
“No, but it’s just… I’d like us to talk.”
“When I’m doing better, I’ll call you, okay?”
She looks at him in the way she always has when she doesn’t understand a situation or there’s something that’s beyond her. It’s a look that’s alert, but sad, a look like in an old sepia-coloured photograph.
“That’s fine, whatever you prefer. Let me know if there’s
anything you need, Marcos.”
“Okay. Take care.”
When he gets home, he hugs Jasmine and whistles “Summertime” into her ear.