Luis looked at his hands. He was wearing a broad gold ring, but it wasn’t a wedding band.

“You traveled all the way from Buenos Aires and didn’t say a word to each other,” I guessed.

“We took turns sleeping,” said Luis, and he looked at Juan with a hint of reproach.

“Well. His heart is quite decompensated, so I suppose that if he went to Buenos Aires to get you, it must be for something important.”

“I didn’t go to get him,” said Juan. “I went for what I had to do, and we met up. He told me he needs to get out of the country, so I offered him help.”

Gaspar leaned against his father’s bare chest and yawned. The circles under Juan’s eyes looked like he’d been punched. The ride back in the car had destroyed him. I was a little annoyed by his bad mood, but I knew him well enough to know that this was his way of showing affection—behaving like the world was a porcupine and he couldn’t find anywhere to sit.

Luis took a sip of water and explained. He was precise: I was grateful that he didn’t underestimate me.

“I work as an architect, and until last year I also had a position at a ceramics factory. My commitment in the factory was, or is, political. I also had territorial commitments. Over the past year everything got more complicated: the union secretary, a close friend of mine, was assassinated. They made it look like a car accident. I went on with my architecture studio, but two weeks ago a guy came and cornered me in the doorway and told me, “The only reason I’m not killing you is that you have a sick son.” He was wrong: my partner in the studio is the one whose kid has problems. It won’t be long before they figure that out. My girlfriend has already landed in Río. I want to meet up with her, and I can feel them breathing down my neck. Since the 24th, I haven’t been safe here anymore.”

“Your companion, she couldn’t get you out?”

“She thinks I’m chickenshit because I don’t agree with armed struggle. She left on her own. If I meet up with her, we’ll see what happens. I don’t know if she’ll take me back, but I hope so.”

“And? Are you a coward?”

“Now that they’re killing us, it doesn’t matter. From her point of view, I’m a coward, but I still believe she’s wrong.”

“You don’t have kids, Luis?”

“My girlfriend has two daughters and I’ve raised them as my own. I don’t have my own kids, not yet.”

“Can we talk about how to do this?” said Juan. I ignored him.