I would say the phrase about the house was a joke.
I would say anything but the truth.
But Ana had heard enough.
While Victor was waiting for him to appear by his bed,s, she was temporarily installed in a simple room she had rented for a few days, with her suitcase still closed by the wall and a bag of medicine on a small table.
The scar kept hurting when it got up too quickly.
I slept in intervals.
He ate little.
And yet, for the first time in many years, no one asked him where a shirt was, what was for dinner or whether he had paid any receipts.
The silence was strange, but not empty.
It was his.
The morning after the fire he returned to Lomas Verdes because he needed to see with his own eyes what had remained.
He didn’t come in.
From the sidewalk she took the photographs she later kept on her phone while Teresa, her neighbor, tried to find words to comfort her.
Ana didn’t explain what had happened in the hospital.
He only said that phrase that Teresa would remember for a long time: she had not lost all that morning; she had lost it three days before.
He then left to go to a medical check-up that Dr. Salcedo had insisted on maintaining.
He didn’t want to turn his anger into a reason to neglect the only kidney he had left.
Salcedo checked the wound and asked if she had anyone who could accompany her during recovery.
Ana replied that she could organize.
The doctor watched her for a few seconds, as if she wanted to ask something more, but she didn’t.
She thanked that caution.
Meanwhile, Victor began receiving messages from Rita with a different frequency.
Before the transplant she wrote to him at any time.
I asked him when they might look, what was going to happen to them, and how long it was to get him to settle their marriage.
Now I wanted to know when I’d get out of the hospital.
And, above all, when they could talk about the house.
Victor still did not know that there was no longer a house to be delivered.
When he finally received authorization to leave, he asked that Ana go after him.
The nurse who took the message came back a few minutes later.
“Your wife is not coming.
Victor frowned.
Did you talk to her?
The notice was left at the registered number.
There was no further explanation.
Victor called again.
Ana let the phone ring until it went out.
Then he did what was still easier than accepting a rejection: he called Rita.
She arrived shortly after.
Victor carried a bag with his stuff, some medical documents and Ana’s ring stored in an interior pocket of his jacket.
During the journey he spoke little.
