I find myself walking barefoot on the wet sand, accompanied by the local wind that hits me in the face, disheveled and forcing me to squint. My sandals hang from the fingers of my left hand, while my right holds the backpack that falls on my shoulder.
The cold waves of the sea touch my feet, go through them, recede towards the accumulated water of that ocean and return seconds later, making me lose track of time. I don't even know how long I've been here when my cell phone rings. I take it out, look at its screen and just read those four letters to put it back in its place.
I keep walking as if nothing has happened and again that hateful sound is heard, only this time I simply ignore the fact that it happens.
Mine: I answered.
As you see that I do not, continue.
- It could be something important
He insists and I obey with a bad humor, knowing that the only "important" thing for my father is to make the life of his youngest daughter impossible. But when I fix my eyes on that screen again, I do not recognize the four letters from the previous time, but two much longer words: Unknown number. It misses me, but I attend anyway.
May: Hello?
I say, hoping to recognize the voice of my very father, who knows perfectly "the tricks of his capricious daughter" and only calls from another number to mislead me
The person on the other side makes their presence known, saying the same thing as me and then I realize that nothing is as I thought. That is not the voice of the one who expected me. Although it is serious, it is not him, and it does not take me long to recognize who it really is.
May: How do you have my number? (I ask in amazement and Mia stops walking to look at me).
- They gave it to me in case something happened.
Sigh.
May: And did something happen that you call that out of nowhere?
- He said to come back in an hour and it's been almost two.
He says in his usual relaxed voice and I put the phone on my shoulder, turning to Mia.
May: What time is it?
Mine: Do you have your cell phone at hand and ask me?
I look at the screen: 4:27 pm
May: Now let's go. Sorry to make you wait so long (I say on the phone and hang up).
My friend looks at me stunned.
May: What?
Mine: "Sorry to make you wait so long"? (I look at her wryly). To a driver? (Sigh). Are you okay?
May: Shut up.
I start to walk at a faster speed than we were coming at and she follows me, keeping up with me.
Mia (laughs): Che, but seriously, is something wrong?
I stop abruptly and turn around, looking at her.
May: What's going to happen Mia?
Mia: I don't know ... you're weird with that boy. Like you care too much or ...
May (I cut her off): Do I care? (I give a little laugh). He's just an employee, I don't even know his name. Do you think I'm going to "care" about his pathetic life?
She doesn't say anything else, so I keep walking. We crossed the exit in less than five minutes and it didn't take long for me to see that black car. When we are only a few meters away the driver's door opens and the driver comes out. He turns around the front of the vehicle and opens the back door, waiting for us. I walk up first, planning to take a seat, but turn back and look him up.
- Something happens?
May: And you sack?
I ask looking at his torso, where you can only see several unbuttoned buttons and a poorly tied tie.
- But ... in the morning he didn't say that ...
May (I interrupt): I gave you some free time in the morning (swallows, exposing her nerves), now you're working and that's not how you have to be.
- Forgiveness.
May: Two more mistakes and you lose your job.
- It will not happen again.
I notice some disappointment in his eyes, but I ignore it, treating him like any other driver I've had for as long as I can remember. I go up and Mia does it after me.
Mia: That was hard (she says while we're still alone in the car).
"That was so you don't invent stupid things" I say in my mind, but I don't answer anything. He climbs into his seat, fixes his tie and puts on his jacket. I watch him in the mirror, knowing that no one notices. Start the engine and accelerate, turning the landscape of the windows into a rapid transition of images, although that is not what distracts me, but the image of the unknown boy whom I just mistreated and whose name I don't even know, who has his gaze fixed on the road, as if nothing else existed.