Chương 4
A nurse entered to check the monitor. She called Teresa “Doña Tere” and asked whether she wanted chicken broth. Teresa said she wanted toast with guava jam. The nurse promised to look.
When they were alone again, Teresa touched Elena’s sleeve.
“The blue room,” she said.
“What about it?”
“Not Mateo.”
“Mateo Ríos?”
Teresa’s nails pressed through the fabric.
“Not Mateo.”
Then she asked when Elena’s father would arrive.
The blue room at the hacienda had not been blue for twenty years. When Elena and Sofía were children, it had been their father’s office, painted the color of a clear swimming pool. After he died, Sofía covered the walls with cream wallpaper and turned it into a room for accounting records. The family still called it the blue room because houses, like families, often kept old names after the truth changed.
Elena told Benítez what Teresa had said.
He listened without writing it down.
“She is confused,” he said.
“She named the notary.”
“She may have heard your sister mention him.”
“She said not Mateo.”
“That could mean many things.”
“It means something.”
“It may. But it is not evidence.”
Elena disliked him for being right.
He continued, “We searched the cage and Teresa’s bedroom. There were no restraints besides the door. We collected medication, prescription bottles, and a notebook from your sister’s office. Tomorrow we will return with authorization to review financial documents.”
“I’m going with you.”
“You are family.”
“That is why I’m going.”
“That is why you may not be allowed.”
She folded her arms.
Benítez rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Major, I understand that rank teaches you to enter a problem and establish control. This is not your unit.”
“You stood outside while my mother was locked in iron.”
His face reddened.
“Yes,” he said. “And I will answer for every minute I waited. You should decide whether you are willing to do the same for the months you were gone.”
She stared at him.
He looked tired rather than triumphant.
“I did not put her there.”
“No.”
“Do not compare us.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“I said time has witnesses.”
He left before she could answer.
That night, Elena slept in a chair beside her mother’s bed. At two in the morning, Teresa woke screaming that someone had taken the roof. Elena called for the nurse and tried to hold her hands. Teresa struck her across the face.
The blow was weak, more frightening than painful.
“Get out,” Teresa cried. “This is my house.”
“Mama, it’s Elena.”
“You cut your hair.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Regulations.”
“What regulations?”
“The army.”
Teresa stared at her uniform, which Elena had not changed because her civilian clothes were still in the duffel at the hacienda.
“My daughter is not in the army.”
“I am.”
“My daughter left because her father died.”
Elena froze.
The nurse entered with a syringe, then stopped when Elena shook her head.
“Give us a minute.”
Teresa pulled the blanket to her chin.
“You left,” she said.
Elena sat again.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The old answer rose automatically: because she had earned the scholarship; because the academy was the only future she could afford; because her father’s debts had swallowed the farm; because Sofía had been older and better suited to stay. Each answer contained enough truth to hide behind.
“I was afraid if I stayed, I would never leave.”
Teresa blinked.
“That is a selfish thing.”
“Yes.”
“You always were honest after midnight.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Elena opened her mouth.
Teresa’s gaze drifted toward the dark window.
“Someone stole the roof,” she said.
The nurse gave her the medication.
In the morning, Elena changed in the hospital restroom. Her civilian clothes were borrowed from Lucía’s daughter: jeans too tight at the waist and a pale yellow blouse with embroidered flowers. Elena rolled the sleeves to her elbows. Without her uniform, the staff stopped calling her Major. One orderly asked whether she was Teresa’s niece.
Sofía arrived in a gray suit.
She carried coffee for herself and none for anyone else.
“You look ridiculous,” she told Elena.
“The blouse has birds.”
“They are flowers.”
“Lucía’s daughter said birds.”
“Lucía’s daughter also believes rubbing garlic on the tires prevents accidents.”
Elena took the coffee from Sofía’s hand and drank.
Sofía stared at her.
“You could have asked.”
“You could have brought two.”
Sofía sat by the window. For a while, they watched Teresa sleep.
Without the red dress and gold jewelry, Sofía looked older. Fine lines ran from the corners of her mouth. A patch of foundation had worn away near her jaw. She had always been careful with appearances, even as a teenager. Elena used to find her ironing ribbons at midnight before school ceremonies.
“Why were you dressed like that yesterday?” Elena asked.
“Like what?”
“As if you were hosting a bank.”
“I had a meeting.”
“With Mateo?”
“With investors.”
“What investors?”
Sofía gave her a tired glance. “The groves are failing.”
“That has been true for years.”
“Now the irrigation system is failing too. The north pump needs replacement. We owe wages. The property tax is late. The hospital bills from Mama’s fall in January are unpaid.”
“You said insurance covered it.”
“Some.”
“How much do we owe?”
“Enough that your monthly transfer is an insult.”
Elena’s fingers tightened around the paper cup.
“I send what I can.”
“You send what keeps you feeling involved.”
“That money pays salaries.”
“It pays less than half of Lucía’s salary.”
“You could have told me.”
“I told you.”
“You complained.”
“What language would you have preferred? A spreadsheet? An emergency flare?”
“You said things were difficult. Things are always difficult here.”
“Yes. That is what happens to the person who stays.”
Elena set the cup on the windowsill.
“Did Mama sign the power of attorney?”
“Yes.”
“Did she understand it?”
“Yes.”
“Did she understand that you were building a cage?”
Sofía looked toward the bed.
May you like
“No.”
The admission was so quiet Elena nearly missed it.
