My nose was smooth to the tip. Forehead smaller than before with a faint regrowth starting where the follicles now sat. My ears were nestled at the side of my head, all identifying moles had vanished. If you asked me whether I’d ever had chickenpox, I could say no with the full certainty that no tell-tale scar could be found anywhere on my person.

Once I put on a bit of slap, my lenses and hair dye, I crept into the room next to Tenoch’s and sifted through the clothes in Marisol’s wardrobe. I put on a white huipil dress embroidered with golden flowers all around the neckline and waist, sprayed on a bit of perfume and practised the knowing, overbitey Marisol smile from the gold staircase painting. I slotted on her straw hat and helped myself to a bit of jewellery from a trinket box – some silver rings that fit my fingers and a gemstone necklace that looked like a flaming orb when it caught the light. I flicked my short brown plait from one shoulder to the other. It was a facsimile – by no means perfect, but good enough.

I sauntered downstairs to where Tenoch was watching the episode of The Golden Girls where Rose inherits a pig. I stood under the crossed machetes, waiting, until I had to kick the metal fender to get his attention.

He flicked me a classic double take and his face went flat, like I’d smacked it with a tray. He bounced to his feet.

‘Well?’ I said, twirling. ‘What do you think?’

He couldn’t close his mouth. ‘Santa madre de dios,’ he kept saying, quietly, whispering. Rubbing his face. ‘I thought you were Marisol.’

‘Your daughter?’ I said, playfully chewing the chain of her necklace. ‘I look like… your daughter?’

‘That is her dress. And she used to wear her hair like that.’ He came closer and frowned. ‘You smell like her too. That is her perfume.’

‘You said I could, didn’t you? I found it at the back of that wardrobe. Oh, this is bad, isn’t it? I’ve offended you. I’m sorry, I’ll go change—’

‘—don’t be sorry.’ He cupped my face gently, like I was priceless. He had tears in his eyes but blinked them away. ‘She wore that to her prom. The opal necklace too – I bought her that for her sixteenth. It suits you.’

‘You approve?’

He wiped his cheeks. ‘Yes. It make me so happy but so sad to see that dress. To smell her perfume again.’ He reached out and pulled on my plait playfully, before dropping it. ‘Dios mio, la extraño mucho.’

‘I’m sorry, Tenoch.’ I wasn’t sorry and I knew exactly what I’d done. But something he said did get to me. When he hugged me and breathed in her perfume. He couldn’t let go. ‘I’m not her, Tenoch.’