Chapter 14 - BACK AT THE AURORA
The ballroom looked smaller a year later.
Maybe because Lorenzo was no longer standing in the middle of it.
Maybe because fear makes rooms bigger.
Tomás wore a dark blue jacket.
No long sleeves to hide bruises.
Just clothes he chose himself.
Eduardo sat beside him.
They ordered one plate of pasta to share.
I almost cried when I saw it.
“Mom,” Eduardo said.
“What?”
“You’re doing the face.”
“What face?”
“The crying-but-pretending-you’re-not face.”
“I don’t have a face.”
“You definitely do.”
Tomás laughed.
That laugh still surprised me sometimes.
A year earlier, he barely spoke.
Now he made jokes.
Argued about movies.
Complained about homework.
Normal things.
Beautiful things.
A man approached our table.
Late seventies.
Gray hair.
Walking cane.
“Beatriz?”
I stood.
“Yes?”
“My name is Daniel Mercer.”
My heart skipped.
Júlia’s attorney.
The man she had been trying to reach the night she died.
Tomás went still.
Mercer looked at him gently.
“You must be Tomás.”
Tomás nodded.
Mercer sat.
“I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time.”
“Why didn’t you help my mom?”
The question landed hard.
Mercer didn’t defend himself.
“I failed her.”
Tomás stared.
“She called me. I wasn’t in my office.”
“I know.”
“I heard the message the next morning.”
“What did you do?”
“I went to police.”
Tomás frowned.
“Then why didn’t anything happen?”
“Because I didn’t have the records she promised me. Lorenzo’s lawyers claimed she had been stealing. I pushed, but not hard enough.”
He looked ashamed.
“I should have done more.”
Tomás was quiet.
Finally he asked, “Why are you here?”
Mercer pulled a small envelope from his coat.
“Because your mother left something with me three days before she died.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“She told me not to open it unless Tomás came looking for answers one day.”
He placed it on the table.
Tomás didn’t touch it.
“What is it?”
“A letter.”
“For me?”
Mercer nodded.
Tomás finally opened it.
Júlia’s handwriting filled one page.
He read silently.
Then tears slipped down his face.
Eduardo leaned closer.
“What did she say?”
Tomás wiped his cheek.
“She said if I grow up angry, that’s okay.”
He read another line.
“She said I don’t have to become good just to prove bad things didn’t change me.”
His voice cracked.
“And she said…”
He stopped.
I waited.
Tomás smiled through his tears.
“She said if I ever find one person who makes me feel safe, I should believe that person until I learn how to believe myself.”
He looked at Eduardo.
Neither boy said anything.
They didn’t need to.
Then Eduardo pushed the bread basket toward him.
“Want the last piece?”
Tomás broke it in half.
“No.”
May you like
He handed half back.
“We split it.”
