As the woman ate and the boy sat with her, she reminisced about the family trivialities she so loved to recall.
"Once, when you were younger and I was carrying you because you had fallen asleep as we crossed the street, a woman—completely deranged—approached me and asked if I wanted to sell you. She said she would pay me very well. You squeezed me so tightly that I realized you were only pretending to be asleep. I was on the verge of playing a mean joke and asking that lunatic how much she was willing to pay, but some things aren't meant to be joked about. Do you remember that afternoon?"
The boy nodded, amused by the anecdote, while watching the woman, who was distracted by an insect buzzing around her. She swatted the air, then smacked the table, crushing the kamikaze fly that had been harassing her.
Suddenly, the footsteps upstairs came to life again. Those weightless steps echoed down the staircase, and the front door flung open before slamming shut—only to bounce back open again. Both the boy and the woman exchanged glances, expecting a thunderclap. But instead, a swarm of flies surged into the house, encircling the woman and attacking her relentlessly.
"Dear God! Dear God!" The woman flailed her arms, striking at the clusters of insects that scattered only to regroup again like schools of fish in the air. "My Lord! What is this?!"
The boy couldn't help her, but he watched in distress, trying to make sense of what was happening. With the calmness born from years of enduring life's aches and pains, the woman made her way up the stairs to her room, retrieving a can of hairspray. Carefully, she descended, mindful not to stumble despite the chaos of the swarm that relentlessly assaulted her. Once in the dining room, she reached into the sideboard, pulled out a lighter, and with a flick of her thumb, she ignited the aerosol spray, transforming it into a makeshift flamethrower. The fire engulfed the flies, sending them plummeting to the floor and tabletop, their tiny, stinking bodies twitching in their last moments like grotesque, burning stars. After several tense seconds, the few remaining flies that had survived took their leave, fleeing through the door just as they had entered, carrying their sinister hum away with them.
"My God... Have you ever seen anything like this?"
But instead of answering, the boy was staring toward the window that looked out onto the backyard. There, the cat from the previous night sat, impassively watching the woman as she collected herself. The woman returned its gaze, her expression wary, and for a long, frozen moment, they remained locked in silent confrontation. Then, just as suddenly, the cat leapt away and disappeared from view. The woman shook herself from the trance, grabbed a broom and dustpan, and set to cleaning the repulsive mess at her feet, while the nauseating stench of burnt hair stirred in her a queasiness she hadn't felt in years.
"No."
"What did you say, child?"
"I've never seen anything like this."
"Neither have I. Not even I," she lied.
"I'm scared."
The woman studied him. If she could—if it were easy—she would have embraced him for comfort. Instead, she sighed and replied,
"So am I, my boy. So am I."
All the mirrors in the house shattered at once, cracking simultaneously in a deafening, final rupture.
At home, my sister reheats dinner while the two of us wait in the kitchen in silence for my brother-in-law to come back from work. He had called to say he was on his way forty-five minutes ago, and I found myself surprised at every moment by their family routine. Of course, I had taken certain things for granted, but understanding someone's life is not the same as living it. I felt a mix of pity and admiration for my brother-in-law, for my sister, for my Dani. They had a beautiful life, but it was a life that cost something—a price paid in time, sacrifice, dedication, in dreams postponed and joys sacrificed, all for the happiness of their family.
I remembered my brother-in-law back when he was courting my sister. That guy had been a free spirit. My mother had been terrified that he was only after her for sex or, worse, that he would lead her astray. He used to take her on weekend hikes up the Iztaccíhuatl, Popocatépetl, and Nevado de Toluca. He took her on road trips to little magical towns, and while my mother imagined them wasted and reckless, he was singing La Chispa Adecuada around a bonfire, strumming his guitar alongside the rest of the charismatic, hippie-looking wanderers they traveled with. I know because I went with them a couple of times. And God, that guy was madly in love. He sang to her while staring into her eyes, and she smiled back at him, as if the rest of us had ceased to exist. He sang La Chispa Adecuada, but it could have been Un Buen Perdedor, Entre Pairos y Derivas, or Ojalá. He loved to sing her Ojalá, and when he got to the line "Ojalá que no pueda tocarte ni en canciones", he would mischievously change it—right in front of me, no less—laughing: "Ojalá que hoy pueda, bajarte los calzones". And damn it, he would look at her with this impossible-to-resist smile. He sang whatever, and it was always the same scene: him strumming his guitar, watching her as they smiled at each other like nothing else in the world mattered.
It was terrifying how in love they were.
And when we finally found out my sister was pregnant, these two idiots didn't just break the news—they came in with a fully executed action plan.
"Look, ma'am, I'm really sorry. Sorry to spring this on you and skip some steps." My mother was crying because history was repeating itself. "But look, I just got a great job at my uncle's company, a big position. In a month, with your blessing, we'll get married in the church. And look." He handed her a set of keys with an address in Heriberto Frías, in Colonia del Valle. "These are your keys, ma'am. So you can visit whenever you want. No need to call ahead—it will always be your home." My mother cried harder, and I stood there pouring drinks, unsure if I should say something. "I want you to feel, to know, that your daughter will be well taken care of. That I love her deeply. That this isn't a mistake—just a plan happening sooner than expected."
My mother sobbed, and he hugged her while she pushed him away, laughing. My sister, crying and laughing, hugged them both.
I stepped in and handed out drinks, starting with my mom. "I'm going to be the godfather, right?"
They nodded, smiling—but I wasn't. And I didn't care, because I was always close to Dani, and she to me. Even though they had to make my brother-in-law's uncle the godfather, even though my brother-in-law traded his old Jeep Wrangler for a Windstar minivan, this family became my idea of happiness.
And when my brother-in-law finally arrived, my sister pulled the artichokes au gratin from the oven, with a sauce of chili, tomato, and onion, and a serving of tuna pie for each of us. Two of my favorite dishes—the kind my mom still makes.
"Delicious, beautiful," he said. He always called her beautiful, and she always smiled, as if she chose to believe him every time. "Better than your mom's, but don't tell her—I'll deny it to the grave."
My sister smiled.
"Mom, how's my uncle?"
She looked at me, and a wave of sorrow washed over her face. She turned to my brother-in-law and burst into tears.
He stood up and hugged her, while I sat there, frozen.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
My brother-in-law reached for my hand, squeezing it gently.
After dinner, I go upstairs to my room and change into my pajamas. I enter the bathroom and start brushing my teeth, but something catches my attention. I hear a noise from the window, as if someone is on the other side, hissing at me.
"Chist. Chist."
I freeze. On the other side of the bathroom window, there are only the leaves of a tree. The leaves of a branch four meters above the ground.
"Chist. Chist."
I turn, terrified.
Why the hell is everything scaring me these days?
I haven't felt this kind of fear since I was a child. This paranoid sensation that haunts me at every moment.
"Chist. Chist."
I don't wait any longer and bolt out of my room, running straight to my sister's room. Without thinking about embarrassment, I burst into the room and try to explain what happened, but I realize—too late—that they were talking about me, or rather, about Dani, just as I entered. I catch a bit of my sister's conversation as she tells my brother-in-law what the psychologist said after speaking with me.
"There's someone outside my room, and they went 'Chist. Chist.' at me."
They both fall silent. While my brother-in-law looks at me, weighing my words, my sister gets up and heads to my room to investigate. I follow her, and from the doorway of their bedroom, I glance back at my brother-in-law to see if he's coming. He rolls his eyes, smiles, and gets out of bed to follow us.
In my room, my sister walks toward the window facing the inside of the house, but I quickly explain that it's not that window—it's the one in the bathroom.
"But the bathroom window faces the tree. It's impossible for anything to be there."
"Anything?" I ask with genuine fear.
What's happening to me? It feels like childish terror is taking over me as if I really were a little girl.
"It's a cicada or a moth," my brother-in-law says.
"No way," I reply, and both of them immediately turn to look at me. My sister then gives him a look that says, "I told you so."
"Sorry," I say, embarrassed and confused.
After a long and meticulous investigation, my sister and brother-in-law tuck me into bed and say goodnight.
There was nothing to be afraid of. In fact, my brother-in-law even went outside with a flashlight to inspect the tree and the street. Nothing.
"Do you want to sleep with the lights on?"
"No!"
They both laugh.
"With the door slightly open?"
"Even worse. That's the real scary thing."
They laugh again, kiss me on the forehead, and I watch them leave my room hand in hand.
"Pa...!"
He turns back.
"How was work?"
"Great," he answers cheerfully.
I smile.
Once they're gone, I pull the covers up to my chin and start reciting the Lord's Prayer.
I fall asleep and know nothing more until a deafening scream wakes me up.