a mother’s laments.

The day had started as usual: waking up at 5:30 in the morning, tidying up the house, doing the shopping, and getting ready for her part-time job as a secretary. In the morning, she worked at a post office from 8:30 to 1:30, leaving enough time to rush home, prepare lunch, and head to her second job as a waitress at a luxurious Los Angeles restaurant from 4:30 to 11:30. She preferred taking the metro to her second job; after all, paying for parking in that area was excessive, and she always managed to catch a ride with a coworker.

It had been three months since her little one left!

-Good morning. I want to send a letter to my son in Illinois, - said an old lady with white hair, despite her well-dressed appearance. Despite the expensive perfume scent, she looked so sad. According to the states, she never received correspondence. Would they call her? Would they send it through another means? That didn't matter. Promptly at 10:00 am, she would arrive to deliver a letter, carefully pay the $3.45 for the postage, and sit until she received confirmation that it was sent, which didn't happen until the next day, but she would stay almost until the evening if it weren't.

-Mrs. Porttens, your letter has been sent. Thank you for using our mail services, - said Agustina.

-Very well, - said the old lady, leaving with her cane at a slow pace.

Agustina took orders until lunchtime. Her boss wasn't bad. But when she entered to request half a day off, she felt mentally drained. Her only day off was Sundays, but unfortunately, visits were on Saturdays.

She knocked on the door.

-Come in, - they said behind the door.

-Good afternoon, Mrs. Parks, - said Agustina.

-To what do I owe the pleasure, Agustina? - said Mrs. Parks, from her computer.

-Well, I have a pending commitment on Saturday morning. I would like permission; it's something I can't skip, - Agustina said.

-More important than the work you have? - Mrs. Parks said abruptly.

-Yes, ma'am, more important, - Agustina said seriously.

Mrs. Parks adjusted her glasses. - Well, so be it. You can be absent on Saturday morning. -

-Thank you, Mrs. Parks, - Agustina said, particularly grateful. Relief came from her chest, like a burden that surrounded her hands and was held by her heartbeat, and stress diminished.

-I'll see my child, my baby, - Agustina thought.

-But come to work on Sunday, - Mrs. Parks said.

The spirits dimmed.

-Yes. -

-I will,- Agustina said, thinking about the Saturday shift. The restaurant closed particularly late on Fridays and Saturdays, so she chose Saturdays for fewer hours of sleep.

She continued with her day and went to the supermarket to buy some flour, eggs, and ground beef. Fortunately, ground beef was on sale.

-Agustina, - greeted a young man who usually threw good vibes.

-Michael. -

-Will you be doing anything on Saturday? - Michael asked.

-I have work. I'm sorry, but I'm in a hurry, - Agustina cut him off.

Michael couldn't say more words as she rushed away without paying attention.

The week was a back-and-forth, and on Friday, upon arriving home, she prepared the dough, and the ingredients, and let them rest in the fridge. Barely touching the pillow, she fell into a deep sleep, so much that she didn't hear the alarm clock ringing at 5:30. She woke up with the light at 6:00, the small rays of sun that managed to sneak through the window like yellow threads held by force.

-Damn it, - Agustina said.

Running from one side to another, the journey to the Twin Towers Correctional Facility for Troubled Youth was a two-hour drive. Not a very friendly trip for most people. She prepared the toppings with great care and left the empanadas in the oven at a low flame, 200 degrees. As soon as she placed them on the tray, she hurried to shower, get dressed, and make a good impression. Only her years of practice gave her the time to perform two tasks at once. She even had time to dry her hair while cooking a large steak, Billy's favorite, slowly over low heat.

She left the house after a great marathon, with plenty of bags, and an obvious black streak of mascara running from the bottom of her eye to her ear. In a rush to put out the meat, she stained herself, and she didn't notice, just as one might not notice.

Checking her rearview mirror, she saw the stain and groaned.

Upon arriving at the Twin Towers, she was happy. She got out of the parking lot.

-Good morning, sir. I'm here to see my son, - Agustina said.

-Oh, yes, ma'am. First, could you let me check your belongings? Sometimes parents smuggle improper business or dangerous items for safety reasons, - Samuel, the chief guard, said. Fortunately, he wasn't there on the weekends; he enjoyed them at home.

-Thank you, sir, - Agustina said, entering the facility. She took out the food bags, the wrapped meat, and the empanadas. She had made plenty. - Do you want one? - she asked the guard.

-Uh, ma'am, - said Samuel, confused.

-Come on, try one. I made them this morning; they're still warm. And you, would you like one too? - She asked a bald man with square glasses, who had a somber demeanor.

-Uh, thanks, ma'am, - said Mr. Beins, a teacher. - By the way, whom are you here to visit? -

-Billy Carson,- Agustina said.

-Ah, it must be that. I hadn't seen you around, - said Mr. Beins. After talking, his face softened, matching his demeanor.

-Yeah, I hope he's been good, -- Agustina said, worried, knowing Billy's behavior. -- He's a hothead; he fights over anything. - She added.

-Billy? It's the opposite. Professor Spencer talks a lot about him in teacher meetings. He loves music a lot, practices every day can sometimes plays sports with some kids, Garcia and Reyes, but mostly spends his time studying music, - said, Beins.

-He doesn't play music, - Agustina said, surprised.

-Oh, sometimes I hear him humming at the table. He likes it, - Beins said.

He'll surely tell me. - Agustina thought.

-But I won't bother you anymore. Go into the cafeteria; your boy should be arriving soon, - Beins said.

-Thank you, Mr..., -Agustina started.

-Beins, Professor Beins, - the man said.

-Yes, thank you, Mr. Beins, - Agustina replied.

The cafeteria was a hubbub. Very few parents; some spoke seriously with their kids, others laughed out loud, and Agustina didn't know which was better.

There she saw her handsome boy. He was so handsome; he would surely break many hearts in the future. The first sign that something was wrong: he didn't hug her; he shook her hand as if she were an acquaintance. But Agustina decided to calm down.

A second sign: short answers, more short answers, she poked him, and he didn't respond; he just ignored her. What's going on? Her son, where is the rebellious boy who loves to tell his stories? Where is her affectionate baby, who loves his mother's food and says it every second? Did he do something wrong?

-Mother, just leave it. I've been studying and practicing music, - Billy said.

Particularly cold. What's wrong with him? - Agustina thought. A good face, and nothing else would happen; he was just cold because of the environment. Agustina continued, almost in a vicious circle.

-Music! What's that about? You usually don't sing or dance; you just listen to that hip-hop at full volume, - Agustina said.

-Apparently, I'm good, and I'm learning to play the piano, - Billy said.

-How wonderful that my boy is interested in music, and now you can play the New Year's cumbias, - Agustina said.

-I wish, but playing the piano is difficult. I'm learning a song; maybe I can earn some money, - Billy said.

-It sounds fantastic, playing music, - Agustina said, with some regret. He hates her; he doesn't love her anymore. He said goodbye as quickly as he could, even if she could stay for another two hours.

The smudged makeup and swollen eyes were tears kept for fourteen years, tears kept for nights, not knowing what to do, fears, disappointments, and regrets. A patrol car pulled her over.

When the police officer stopped the car with the parking lights on, he never expected to see a beautiful woman crying freely.

-Miss, are you okay? Do you need any help? - Brian, a California police officer, said.

-Nothing is wrong, officer; I'm just sad. Is there a problem? - Agustina said, pulling out her papers and car documentation.

-No, ma'am, your parking lights are on. I've been following you for the last 15 minutes, - Brian said.

-I'm sorry, - Agustina said, wiping away the tears that kept running. - I don't know what's wrong with me today, - she said.

-Just the parking lights. Take a breath, ma'am, - Brian said, unsure of how to react.

-Thank you, sir. Would you like a meat empanada? - Agustina asked.

Brian was taken aback. -Uh, sure, - he said, seeing that Agustina's tears had stopped.

-Well, I have some hot sauce. I always like to add a bit of spice, - Agustina said, handing him the empanada and the hot sauce. Although they didn't look appetizing, Mr. Brian ate them. He had forty years of service, and this was one of those unusual times that happened in this profession.

After taking a bite, his eyebrows lifted. - These are good, - Brian said.

-Yeah, - Agustina said. - Take another one. -

-I think one is enough. Pay attention to the road and have some water, - Brian said.

-Yes, - Agustina said, tears falling once again.

....