- May?
He asks again, drawing my attention and that is when I remember that I have not answered him. I shake my head, trying to focus.
May: Sorry, what did you say?
For the first time I look at it carefully, because when I saw it I was so nervous that if someone tried to scare me when I opened the door, I would not notice it and it would have failed.
Tomás: I asked you what you were doing there (repeats something strange).
May: Nothing, I went for a breath.
Tomás (looks behind me): To a closed garage?
May: Ehh (I look both ways) ... yes.
He shrugs, although he doesn't seem very convinced.
Tomás: Are you feeling good?
May: I'm a little sleepy, nothing more.
Tomás: Every time I ask you something you feel sleepy.
He comments something upset, reminding me that I lied to him about that last night and I just used the same pretext. How clumsy.
May: Yes, it's just ... I think the time change made me sick.
I say, bringing my hand to my forehead and rubbing it there for a few seconds.
Tomás (squints his eyes): But we are on the same schedule as in the city.
"Ouch." I look at him confused, begging my head to make up some excuse, but as always, nothing. Once again I am convinced that I am not working under pressure.
May: Yes, well, but (sigh)… oh, Dad stop asking weird questions (he exclaimed in a complaining tone).
Tomás (raises his eyebrows): The one who is going to get air in a garage at 9 in the morning is you, not me.
May: Is it nine already?
Tomás: Yes, I was calling you for breakfast. Why?
May (shaking my head): For nothing.
I answer firmly, but my head no longer remains in the conversation, but in the memory of the screen of my cell phone when I opened my eyes. "Wasn't it seven o'clock?" I ask myself as my father scowls at me. That means I spent almost two hours with Samuel, although I didn't notice them at all.
Tomás: Did you turn off the light when you went out?
May: Yes.
I answer, although the truth is that I never turned it on. Only the natural light from the open doors was enough to illuminate the place.
Tomás: Sure?
He asks, walking past me in the direction of the door I came out of, which is behind me now.
May: NO!
I scream backing away until my back collides with that white wooden plank.
Thomas: What?
May: I already told you I turned it off dad.
He raises an eyebrow, puzzled.
Tomás: I got it, I just want to see the car ...
May (I interrupt): The car is not going to escape, we are going to have breakfast.
Thomas: But ...
May (I interrupt again): But nothing, come on.
I add, taking his arm and pulling him away from there.
Breakfast is as boring as was dinner the night before, proving for the thousandth time that this business is not my thing. If in my family the bitter ones were Oliver and Dad, in this one it is each member. Even the daughter, who must be several years younger than me, remains serious and does not open her mouth for a second. What kind of people are these? If it weren't for the movement of the silverware, I could say that I am sharing the table with statues. To my punishment, this is all taking longer than usual and I have no faith that it will end until the maid begins to clear the dishes. The daughter and mother leave, while that robust man continues to exchange words with my father. I see Oliver approaching them, trying to join the conversation, but he walks away in just a minute, and it doesn't take long for me to assume that he was kicked out for a private chat. It is inevitable for me not to laugh when noticing his puzzled face and thinking about how useless he must feel at this moment. He ignores me and leaves. I follow him through the corridor, heading to the room that I had in this house, where the first thing I do after arriving is to drop onto the bed and fall deeply asleep.
A few touches on the right shoulder make me open my eyes and have to close them again because of the sun's rays coming through the window, blinding me. Clumsily, I manage to sit in my place and see my mother watching me.
May: What time is it?
I ask, wanting to rub my eyes, but she stops me.
Cathy: You're going to smudge all the makeup.
He says moving my hand away from his still numb face.
Cathy: It's two in the afternoon.
"Maybe he called me and I didn't even hear him," I think, referring to Samuel.
Cathy: What? Who?
Question unintended and then I understand that I said it out loud.
May: Nothing, it doesn't matter.
I exclaim without nerves, knowing that I don't even have to worry about Mom's suspicions. She is not like him, most likely she does not even have them ... and if she did, it would not be very difficult to convince her otherwise.
Cathy: Did your relationship with your dad improve or did I think?
He says with a touch of mischief in his eyes.
May: Why do you say it?
Cathy: Y ... I don't know. I saw them walking hand in hand this morning.
I restrain myself so as not to burst out laughing at what he's talking about and how badly he misinterpreted things.
May: It wasn't quite like that, but ... let's say we're better than before.
Cathy (smiles): I have good news for you.
I raise my eyebrows, curious.
Cathy: Knowing you ... I'm sure you can't even stand this trip anymore.
May: I would say otherwise.
Cathy: Do you really like it? (Question surprised).
May: Yes, bah ... the house is not bad that I know.
Cathy (snorts): Well, they're bad then.
May (river): What are you talking about, mom?
Cathy: We are going home tonight.
She comments getting out of bed and one part of me can't help feeling excited, while the other forces herself to think about what will happen when everyone (especially my father) knows that Samuel is not in the house, much less the car.