Nobody disappeared.
Mauricio asked for seconds.
So did I.
At nine, Iris showed me a photograph of everyone around the long table, Armando’s picture beside the tree and the dark ocean beyond the windows.
Nobody was posed perfectly.
It was exactly right.
I posted it online.
Christmas Eve at home, surrounded by the people who chose to be here.
Then I shared it in the family group chat.
Familydinner planning
Messages came immediately.
Where is that?
Whose place?
Margarita, are you at a hotel?
Then Hugo called.
I let it ring.
Mom, is that your house?
Another message followed.
I went to your apartment. Call me.
Then Carla posted:
It must belong to someone else.
Mauricio read over my shoulder.
“She can’t even imagine it’s yours.”
“No.”
“To her, a woman in a clearance dress can’t own this.”
Norma touched my arm.
“Don’t let tonight become about them.”
