Chương 10
He showed Mariana before sending it.
“Is this rude?”
“No.”
“It sounds rude.”
“It sounds clear.”
“That’s what you say when you’re rude.”
Mariana looked at him.
He pressed send before she could reply.
The family dinner took place Friday despite Mariana’s refusal.
Her mother called three times. Lorena sent no messages. Rogelio emailed the restructuring adviser but did not schedule the consultation. The bank deadline passed at noon.
At four, Camila arrived at Mariana’s office carrying a covered pot of mole and wearing the expression of a woman prepared to remain until obedience occurred.
Sofía escorted her in, then closed the door with suspicious speed.
“You cannot bring dinner to a workplace and call it an invitation,” Mariana said.
“I brought food because you forget to eat when you are angry.”
“I ate.”
“What?”
Mariana glanced at the empty coffee cup.
Camila set the pot on a side table. “Your sister is losing her apartment.”
“Rogelio said they might.”
“The landlord gave them thirty days.”
“That is more than many people receive.”
“Listen to you.”
“I am listening to facts.”
“You are hiding in them.”
Mariana stood. “I am working.”
“It is six fifteen.”
“It is four.”
Camila checked her watch and frowned. “This watch has been wrong all week.”
Despite everything, Mariana reached for it. Camila wore the same narrow gold watch their father had given her on their twentieth anniversary. The clasp had loosened years ago. Mariana adjusted the time and secured the band.
Camila watched her hands.
“You always fix things,” she said.
“Not watches, apparently.”
“You fixed mine.”
“It needed the correct time.”
“And now?”
Mariana released her wrist.
Camila sat on the office sofa. “Lorena was wrong.”
The sentence was so unexpected that Mariana remained standing.
“She was cruel,” Camila continued. “And foolish. She should apologize to Emiliano without excuses.”
“Yes.”
“But she is still my daughter.”
“I know.”
“And Diego is still a child.”
“I know.”
“And you are not required to save them.”
Mariana looked at her mother carefully, waiting for the hidden request.
Camila sighed. “Must you make every sentence pass an inspection?”
“Usually when you begin with three things I agree with.”
“I want you to come to dinner.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Lorena will deny, you will ask me to forgive, Rogelio will request money, and everyone will eat while pretending the important part was discussed.”
Camila looked offended. “I do not pretend while eating.”
“You absolutely do.”
“The mole took six hours.”
“That does not make it mediation.”
“No. It makes it mole.”
For a moment, neither spoke.
Camila folded her handbag strap into her lap. “When your father died, you were twenty-four. You paid the mortgage before I understood it was late. You handled the insurance. You called the school when Lorena stopped going.”
“She was seventeen.”
“Yes.”
“She needed structure.”
“She needed her sister.”
“I was her sister.”
“You became everyone’s emergency office.”
Mariana looked away.
Her mother’s voice softened. “We allowed it.”
“Allowed what?”
“You to believe love was the same as preventing consequences.”
The office lights had shifted automatically into evening mode. The glass walls reflected Mariana’s desk, the framed degrees, the darkening windows.
“I did what had to be done,” she said.
“Yes.”
“No one else was doing it.”
“Yes.”
“And now I am being blamed for that?”
“No. I am telling you we became lazy with you.”
Camila’s eyes filled, though she did not cry.
“I let you be the hard one,” she said. “Then I resented you for being hard.”
Mariana sat across from her.
“What do you want me to do with that?”
“Nothing tonight.”
“That is convenient.”
“It is the first honest thing I have said to you this week.”
Mariana looked at the covered pot.
“Is Lorena at your house?”
“Yes.”
“Rogelio?”
“Yes.”
“Diego?”
“With a friend. He did not want to see anyone.”
“Emiliano will not come.”
“I did not ask him to.”
That mattered.
Mariana called Andrés and asked whether he could stay with Emiliano for two hours. He agreed without asking why.
At seven thirty, she entered her mother’s house carrying the photographer’s printed stills in a plain envelope. She had not decided whether she would use them.
The dining table was set for four.
Lorena stood near the window in a cream blouse and jeans, no designer handbag, no polished party smile. Her blonde hair was tied back badly. Rogelio sat at the table with his phone facedown beside his plate.
No one greeted Mariana.
Camila carried the pot from the kitchen and said, “Sit before the food gets skin.”
“Mole does not get skin,” Lorena muttered.
“Everything gets skin if you wait long enough.”
It was the kind of irrelevant maternal statement that would normally have irritated both daughters. That evening, it gave them somewhere to look.
They served themselves.
For several minutes, they ate in silence. A neighbor’s television could be heard through the shared wall. Someone outside dragged a garbage bin along the sidewalk.
Lorena put down her fork.
“Did you enjoy sending the lawyer?”
“No.”
“You did it quickly.”
“Yes.”
“You could have called.”
“You could have removed the lie.”
“I was protecting Diego.”
“By claiming armed guards terrified him?”
“There were security guards.”
“They were unarmed.”
“How would I know?”
“Because you saw them.”
“They had black uniforms.”
Mariana stared at her.
Lorena rubbed both hands over her face. “Fine. It was badly worded.”
“It was false.”
“Fine.”
“That is not a correction.”
Camila said, “Let her finish.”
Lorena turned on her. “I don’t know how to finish because anything I say becomes evidence.”
Rogelio pushed his chair back slightly. “No one is recording.”
“You don’t know that.”
All three women looked at him.
He lowered his eyes. “I mean phones record things. Apps. I don’t know.”
Mariana almost asked what else he had hidden. She stopped herself.
Lorena’s gaze fell on the envelope beside Mariana’s plate.
“What is that?”
“The full video.”
May you like
Camila stopped eating.
Rogelio looked at Mariana. “You printed a video?”
