I felt a cold run down my back.
“Since when…?” I asked with difficulty.
Hue hesitated.
“Since I left the hospital.
I felt something burning inside my chest.
One month.
A whole month had passed.
A month in which I thought my wife was being taken care of.
A month in which my mother received my money.
A month in which Hue ate… garbage.
I clenched my fists.
“Why didn’t you tell me anything?”
Hue looked up at me.
His eyes were filled with fear.
“Because,” he whispered, “… She is your mother.
Those words hit me harder than anything else.
Hue wasn’t afraid of going hungry.
He was afraid of destroying the relationship between a son and his mother.
I took a deep breath.
Then I got up.
“Where is she?”
Hue opened his eyes in concern.
“He must be at Mrs. Marta’s house… talking to the neighbors.
I took my jacket.
“Stay here,” I said.
“What are you going to do?”
I looked at her.
“Fix this.
Mrs. Marta’s house was only two doors down from ours.
When I arrived, I could hear laughter from the patio.
Several women were sitting around a table, drinking coffee.
My mother was among them.
He laughed.
As if nothing in the world was wrong.
When he saw me, his smile froze.
“Son?” Why are you here so early?
I didn’t answer.
I just looked at her.
“Come,” I said. We have to talk.
My tone was so serious that even the other women stopped talking.
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