Juan came back without Stephen, stinking of sex and cigarettes. Ever since then, every time he’s left and come back, the first thing I’ve done is open his shirt, unbutton it, lift it up: I need to touch his skin. The days without him are physically painful for me. Getting him back after that absence made me feel insecure for the first time. He didn’t need me either, and he was capable of leaving me. I had never before imagined that possibility. Such was my arrogance. When he came back, Juan said things like I miss you, I need you, I forgive you, I’d kill you, I can’t be away from you or from Gaspar. I felt his love had hardened, and his need.

That night, the night of his return, we slept together with Gaspar between us. Or more like Gaspar slept, and Juan and I put a record on loud enough that no one could hear us talk. In that giant room, we used to dance with Tali and Stephen while Gaspar clapped: I bought records in Brazil, and Stephen always brought some from Europe. The three of them could talk in secret, but they didn’t do it in front of me anymore. I could never learn. And how could he do it with Tali, who had never been trained? I felt, and was, ever more alone.

Juan gently took Gaspar’s arm and used his index finger to draw a phantom image on his wrist. A large design that almost reached his elbow, on the outside of his arm. Then he touched the scar under his hair.

“I need a specific seal to keep Gaspar far away from the Order when he turns twelve. A sign that will keep them from finding him. I have to ask the Darkness for it: what we know won’t be enough.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m not going to live ten more years, and I don’t want Gaspar to belong to the Order. If I can mark him with a seal that will prevent them from finding him, I’m going to do it. There are a lot of things that would have to happen first. I have to find the Other Place and get it to offer me the sign. It will surely require another sacrifice. I’ll give it one, of course. A sign on his arm, visible, that will disorient them. If they try to find him, they’ll get lost. They won’t be able to find out where he is, and if they do, they won’t be able to reach him. A sign, a mark, to hide him.”

“What about me? I don’t want to be apart from my son. Are you going to hide him from me?”

He kept drawing the phantom seal on Gaspar’s arm. The mark could only be made with violence: it would have to be a deep, painful, unforgettable wound, he told me. He would have to hurt Gaspar.