Santa Cruz is feeling farther away, and it’s clear, Eduardo is not the solution. Pancho is the way home.
“Luisa, have you seen Eduardo?”
“Cómo que no está en la hamaca?”
“Pancho asked me to pick up Claudia in the truck.”
“Ah, Claudia! Qué bueno. Qué bueno.”
Luisa walked over, pulled out the chair and hugged me before I could sit down.
“What’s for dinner?”
“Preparé una sopa especial. Menudo.”
“I thought Menudo was an ‘80s band.”
The screen door squeaked open. Eduardo stepped through and sat down.
“Luisa, this soup is delicious.”
Eduardo sat quietly. We didn’t speak. He just finished his soup and left.
“Thank you very much,” I said, gathering the dishes. “Here, let me help.”
I looked out the window towards the fields.
“You know, we have fields, the ocean, coffee shops, horses, warm days, and cool nights in Santa Cruz too. We grow strawberries, artichokes, Brussels sprouts, blackberries, and raspberries. All kinds of produce.”
“Sí?”
“Sí.”
“I need to get home. I have a date.”
“Con una chica?”
“No. With bureaucracy.”
Luisa laughed.
The heat of the day gave way.
It’s time to rest.
Claudia arrives tomorrow.