He looked at the house through the windshield.
-No.
Silence.
-Because?
—I found Isabel.
The response took too long.
Maybe just two seconds.
But Gabriel knew his mother.
Mercedes never needed two seconds.
-Whom?
—Don't do that.
Gabriel's voice lowered.
—I found Isabel. She's alive. And she has a nineteen-year-old son.
Mercedes breathed a sigh of relief on the other side.
—Gabriel, there are things you don't understand.
There it was.
He didn't ask how it was possible.
He did not express surprise.
He didn't say that he must be wrong.
He said there were things he didn't understand.
Gabriel gripped the steering wheel.
—I'm going to see you tomorrow.
—There's no need to dramatize.
—Nineteen years old, Mom.
—I did what I thought was best for you.
Gabriel closed his eyes.
That sentence completely eliminated any possibility of an innocent mistake.
-Tomorrow.
He hung up.
Mercedes received him the next day at the house that Gabriel had bought for her twelve years earlier.
