“Here’s the deal,” her father would say, imitating the malevolent voice of Ursula the witch. “I’ll make you a potion that will turn you into a human for three days. Got that? Three days. Before the sun sets on the third day, you’ve got to get dear old Princey to fall in love with you. That is, he’s got to kiss you. Not just any kiss—the kiss of true love!” Her father just loved that last line, and so did she.

“If I become human,” Simona would reply, playing the innocent and dubious Ariel, “I’ll never be with my father or sisters again.”

“That’s right . . . but . . . you’ll have your man. Life’s full of tough choices, innit?”

Simona was sure that her father loved her, but she could also tell that something was making him feel lonely, and that all the love she could give him didn’t help; quite the opposite, in fact. In some strange and inexplicable way it seemed to weaken him and make him feel more alone. She thought that solitude was related to one of the words her mother had said in their fights, one she’d also looked up in the dictionary: humiliation.

So, when she’d seen the casting call a couple of days earlier, it was as if a miracle had come down from heaven. How had she not realized? How had she not thought of it sooner, when it was so obvious? All that time looking at classified ads for carpenters, bakers, assistants, watchmen, salesmen, drivers, and more watchmen, never realizing how bad those ads must make her father feel.

Now, while she walked, she took the clipping from her pocket and read it one more time:

GREAT OPPORTUNITY: Casting Call. Ad agency seeks women and men of all ages for publicity campaign—prestigious international brand. Tryouts: Monday–Wednesday, Bellavista 0550 . . .

Simona loved TV. She always paid special attention to the commercials, because her sister never understood them and asked her to explain.

There were many reasons her father was destined to triumph in the casting, but two in particular stood out. The first and most obvious: people in commercials were much less handsome than her father. To say less handsome, in fact, was an understatement. It’s just, her father was beautiful! He looked like Luis Miguel, the most beautiful man on the face of the earth. She told everyone: “My dad is like Luis Miguel’s twin.” And he knew it too, and he seemed to like it, because he always sang to her “Será que no me amas,” imitating Luis Miguel’s haughty flirtatiousness as he danced. He turned his face in profile, grabbed his hair, gave a kick and a turn. He moved forward with little jumps, swaying his hips, while Simona did the backup singers’ chorus: “Noche, playa, lluvia, amas.”