Chapter 36

Eduard heard the shouting in the street. He sat at the breakfast table and studied the objects cluttering the window sill: two ceramic pots, a red and yellow basket he bought for Maria in a little shop by the Rio de la Plata on a recent trip to town; a framed photograph taken in Mexico of his smiling grandson, a skeleton mask dangling from his hand, the Day of the Dead celebration. He felt Maria’s touch as she bent forward and put her cheek next to his, her fingers lightly caressing Eduard’s hair, then pulling him close to her, resting her head against his as she stood behind him, whispering all would be well when they both knew it would not. With her hair up, she looked as she had the first time he’d noticed her, a schoolgirl of sixteen crossing the Avenida de Julio on an errand for her mother. Maria poured Eduard’s coffee, and then she sat down next to her husband of thirty-five years.

“What will you do, cara mia?” he asked. “You are much too young. There will be others.”