“A couple of days, I suppose. I want to see a bit of the city. Lucía hasn’t seen her friends in ages. Stay and keep her company,” he said, being very understanding. “I’m starting an intensive workday tomorrow for an important project, so I’ll probably be late. You’ll have the house to yourselves. You focus on your work; that’s what’s important,” Lucía added quickly. “Are you comfortable in the guest room, Sofía?” Marcos asked me. “Yes, it’s very comfortable, thank you. I’m glad. I’m very sensitive to noise at night, which is why the house is well soundproofed.”
If you need anything, tell Lucía. Her tone was friendly, but the message was clear. Of course, I’ll take care of you. We remained silent for a while longer. Then Marcos said he had to answer some work emails and went to his office. The moment the office door closed, it was as if the air in the living room began to circulate again. Lucía visibly relaxed and, sticking her tongue out at me, whispered, “When she gets down to work, she’s like this.”
“Don’t take it the wrong way.” “Relax, it’s nothing,” I replied, looking at the closed door. “Hey, does he treat you well?” “No.” “Yes, of course he treats me well,” Lucía replied quickly, taking my hand. “He’s a bit serious. You know how Europeans are, very structured and full of rules, but he’s responsible, he brings home the money, and he doesn’t go out and do whatever he wants. These days, a man like that is a good catch.” She seemed to be trying to convince herself as well as me.
The children are terrified of him. I hesitated for a moment, but finally I told her. Lucía’s smile faded slightly. It’s not fear, it’s respect. Marcos is very strict about their upbringing. He believes that rules and discipline are essential for them to grow up well. And look at them, they’re so good and well-behaved, aren’t they? Yes, that’s true, I acknowledged, seeing the children who, even without their father around, continued sitting quietly, whispering to each other. They were almost too good. “Come on, I’ll take you to your room; you must be tired,” Lucía said, changing the subject.
The guest room was downstairs; it was nice, clean, and had its own bathroom. “Get some rest. If you need anything, just let me know,” she said as she helped me make the bed. “Marco is leaving early tomorrow, so we can talk in peace. I’ll take you for a walk. This city isn’t much to look at, but it has its charm.” “Great,” I replied, watching her as she moved. Suddenly I asked, “Lucía, are you happy?” She paused for a moment, her back to me. “Of course I’m happy.”
Her voice sounded cheerful. “I have a husband, children, a house. What more could I ask for? Don’t worry about it.” She finished making the bed, gave me a couple more instructions, and left, closing the door behind her. I lay down on the bed, but I couldn’t sleep. This reunion wasn’t what I had imagined. Lucía was kind, Marcos was polite, the children were obedient. The family seemed perfect, harmonious, but there were small details that unsettled me, like grains of sand in a machine.
Lucia’s phone call and her panic, the sudden change in her expression, the children’s silence in front of their father, Marcos’s cold politeness, and this tidy house that seemed devoid of life. Perhaps it was all in my head, perhaps it was simply her way of being, that European rigidity. Perhaps Lucia was simply very concerned about her family and Marcos’s feelings. After all, she was in a foreign country, far from her family and friends.
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