Chương 4
He did not know what he was trying to do.
Remove it.
Throw it away.
Keep it.
The fact that he did not know bothered him.
“Are you going to say anything?” Clarissa asked.
She was standing near the hallway.
Emilio looked up.
“What do you want me to say?”
Her expression tightened.
“I don’t know.”
That answer sounded more honest than anything either of them had said all day.
Clarissa sat across from him.
For years, their arguments had followed a familiar pattern.
One person would become upset.
The other would defend themselves.
Eventually, someone would apologize just enough to end the conversation.
They had become experts at surviving conflict without actually solving anything.
This time there was no easy exit.
“My sister called three times while we were gone,” Clarissa said.
Emilio looked at her.
“When?”
“During the trip.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She looked down.
“Because I knew you would worry.”
He almost responded, but stopped.
The old version of him would have used that sentence as proof that she made the wrong choice.
The old version of him would have focused on the fact that she hid information instead of asking why she felt she had to hide it.
“What did she say?” he asked.
Clarissa took a slow breath.
“She said your father was spending every night at the hospital.”
The room became quiet.
Emilio looked toward the window.
Outside, people walked along the sidewalk carrying grocery bags and talking about ordinary things.
A man across the street was trying to fix a bicycle chain.
A woman waited for a bus while looking at her phone.
The world continued performing its normal routine.
“She knew?” Emilio asked.
Clarissa did not answer immediately.
That pause was enough.
“Everyone knew something was wrong,” she said.
Emilio closed his eyes.
He remembered the messages he had received.
Short messages from Lucia.
Updates from Giovanni.
Simple sentences.
Your mother is tired today.
The doctors are adjusting medication.
Call when you can.
He had answered some of them.
Not all.
He had always told himself he would call when he had more time.
There was always some reason.
The restaurant reservation.
The excursion.
The airport.
The exhaustion after traveling.
Small delays had quietly built a wall between him and the people who needed him.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me it was serious?” he whispered.
Clarissa looked at him carefully.
“Maybe they did.”
He opened his eyes.
She did not sound cruel.
That made it harder.
“You just didn’t hear it.”
The sentence stayed with him.
He stood up and walked toward the kitchen.
He opened the refrigerator without knowing why.
Inside were leftovers Helena had brought them two weeks earlier.
A container of soup sat on the middle shelf with a small note attached.
Eat this before it goes bad.
Her handwriting was instantly recognizable.
The note was ordinary.
That was what hurt.
It was not a final message.
It was not a dramatic goodbye.
It was just Helena being Helena.
Taking care of people in the smallest ways possible.
Emilio touched the edge of the paper.
His mother had probably written it while standing in his kitchen.
She had probably looked around the apartment and noticed things he ignored.
The dishes.
The empty shelves.
The way he never remembered to buy enough groceries.
She had seen all of it.
She had always seen all of it.
He sat at the kitchen table and placed the note beside him.
“I thought I had more time,” he said.
Clarissa looked toward him.
“That’s what everyone thinks.”
He nodded slowly.
She came closer and sat across from him.
For several minutes, they stayed there without talking.
It was uncomfortable.
It was also the first honest silence they had shared in years.
The next morning, Emilio woke up before his alarm.
For a few seconds, he forgot what day it was.
Then he saw the suit hanging over the chair and remembered.
He reached for his phone.
There were several missed calls.
One was from work.
Two were from relatives.
One was from Lucia.
He stared at her name for a long time.
The old instinct told him to wait.
Give her space.
Avoid making things worse.
But he recognized that instinct now.
It was the same instinct that had kept him away from the hospital.
He pressed call.
Lucia answered after four rings.
Neither of them spoke immediately.
“Hi,” Emilio said.
The word sounded painfully small.
“What do you need?”
Her voice was tired.
Not angry.
That somehow made him feel worse.
“I wanted to talk.”
“About what?”
He looked around the apartment.
The question was fair.
He had no idea where to begin.
“I don’t know.”
A quiet breath came through the phone.
“That’s usually when you call.”
The comment was sharp, but there was sadness beneath it.
Emilio sat down on the edge of the bed.
“I’m sorry.”
Lucia did not answer.
“I know that doesn’t fix anything.”
“No.”
“I know.”
Another silence.
Then Lucia said, “Do you?”
He closed his eyes.
Because he did not know if he did.
He wanted to say yes.
He wanted to prove he understood.
But understanding something after losing it was different from understanding it when he still had time.
“I should have been there,” he said.
“Yes.”
The answer came immediately.
No hesitation.
No protection.
Emilio felt the words hit him.
Lucia continued.
“Do you know what the worst part was?”
He waited.
“It wasn’t that you went away.”
He listened.
“It was that Mom kept defending you.”
His hand tightened around the phone.
“She would tell me not to be angry.”
Lucia’s voice changed slightly.
“She said you were probably dealing with your own things.”
Emilio looked down.
“That sounds like her.”
“Yeah.”
Lucia paused.
“She was always making excuses for people.”
The sentence carried years of emotion.
Not only about him.
May you like
About their mother.
About a woman who loved everyone so much that she sometimes disappeared inside that love.
