It was as if she’d never existed. As if Talia had imagined her entire childhood in her abuela’s care. No proof of her voice, and now Talia could only hear it in memory. They’d given away her clothes and even the repaired crucifix in the foyer she’d loved as if it were another husband was donated to a church near Paloquemao. When Talia left, she would be able to take even less with her. Just a suitcase of clothes and a few things to remind her of home. Her father said the death of a loved one was like a house on fire. Even with everything intact, it still felt like mere ashes.

Soon he’d be left in their small apartment without Talia sleeping in the next room. She wondered if for him his daughter’s absence would be another house on fire.

When he returned from the basilica, Aguja handed Talia a paper pouch. She opened it and pulled out a mess of string attached to a plastic scapular with the face of the Virgin on it.

“For protection.” He pulled down the collar of his shirt to show an identical string around his neck. “I lit a candle for you too. So you’ll make it back to your mother with no problems.”

She thanked him and slipped the scapular over her head, felt it dangle against her chest.

“I should get back to Barichara. My girlfriend must be having a heart attack. I haven’t even called her. What’s your plan for the rest of the way?”

“I’m going to try to get on one of those buses.”

“They’re charters. They’ll never let you on. It’s only two or three hours’ drive from here to the city. Why don’t you just ask your father to pick you up?”

“He doesn’t have a car.”

“You don’t have any other friend to do you the favor?”

“I’m afraid anyone I call would turn me in.”

After a moment he said, “I guess I could take you. I’ll feel better if I know you made it back safe. I don’t want to wonder about you, you know?”

“Your girlfriend is going to think you got kidnapped.”

“I kind of did.”

Before leaving Chiquinquirá for the capital, Aguja called home. He stepped away for privacy, but Talia could hear him tell his girl he got caught up visiting a friend in another town and would be back soon, assuring her, no, he wasn’t with another girl, that she was the only one for him and didn’t he prove it every day when he asked her to marry him and she was the one who insisted they were still too young and should wait? He told her he loved her. Called her sweet names. Preciosa, muñequita, mi angelito de la guarda. His voice was liquid, a different register from the one he used with Talia. Even his posture changed, holding the phone against his cheek as if it were his girl’s hand. Talia tried to picture her, considering how some girls became special to boys while others were forgettable.