Before following Lidia out, Pablo stopped Gaspar with a hand on the shoulder of his good arm.

“Are you sure about going to your house?”

“I’m not scared of him.”

“Why not?”

“It’s between me and him. Pablo: if you say anything, I’m not going to kill you, but I’ll never speak to you again for the rest of my life.”

And with that he left the room, arm held high, the belt back in place, his pants dry now and stained with blood.

Gaspar felt a little dizzy from the car’s movement but didn’t say anything to Lidia. Pablo had left on the motorcycle. See you later, Gaspar had promised him, but he wasn’t sure there would be a later. He couldn’t explain it, but he didn’t know if he really was going to see Pablo again, if he was going to be able to leave his house. Now there was no possibility of escape. But he didn’t want to escape. He wanted to see his father.

The door was half-open. When the car stopped, Adela’s mom Betty came out of the house to meet them. Always so thin and sharp-boned. He was surprised to see her there. Betty had known his mother. What had she and his dad been talking about? She seemed a little nervous. Gaspar felt his knees go slack when he saw his father standing in the hallway, his face full of false concern. He had to lean against the wall. Lidia realized he was dizzy and led him slowly to the living room, where the sofa was. On the ground floor, that sofa and the three kitchen chairs were the only places to sit apart from the floor. Betty left and closed the door behind her. That woman is hiding something, thought Gaspar. Why am I only now realizing something so obvious? Maybe Adela is even right about her father. Parents should not exist, we should all be orphans, grow up alone, let someone teach us how to cook and bathe when we’re little and that’s that.

Lidia went over to Juan, but Gaspar couldn’t make out what she said. He saw his father pretend to listen and then say thank you—Gaspar could read his lips—and he nodded as he accepted the box of medicine, disinfectant, and gauze. His father’s hair was very clean and a little long, and he was trying to push a fine blond lock behind his ear. Lidia put a hand on his shoulder—she had to extend her arm almost completely—and Gaspar heard whatever you need, you know very well we’re here for you, and his father, such a liar, saying he had found the window broken and seen the blood and hadn’t understood until Beatriz arrived.

“I was in the clinic. It’s like a bad joke, this whole thing. When I was leaving for the hospital to find you, you all were already on your way here.”

“Whatever you need, Juan, really.”

“There won’t be a problem. The nurse will help us.”