She frowned.
—It’s been many years since anyone called me that.
« But it was you, » he said, now without a doubt. « The woman who jumped into the current. The one who pulled me out from among the logs when everyone was shouting from the bank and no one was going in. »
Teresa clenched her jaw. A painful gleam appeared in her eyes.
—I wasn’t the only one that day. My son got involved too.
Alejandro swallowed hard.
—Matthew…
Then Clara saw him clearly. She saw the trembling in his hands, his moist eyes, the face of a man who suddenly owned nothing. Just a frightened boy from twenty-seven years ago, about to drown again.
« Who was Mateo? » she asked, lowering her voice.
Teresa didn’t answer immediately. She observed the mansion, the columns, the lit lamps, the garden fountain, the immense gate. Then she looked down at her broken sandals.
« My son, » she finally said. « He was sixteen years old. He could swim better than anyone in the neighborhood. When the river overflowed and started sweeping everything away, he heard someone calling for help. That someone was you. »
Alejandro closed his eyes.
The entire night returned to his memory.
The rain pouring down. The wooden bridge giving way. The horse startled. He, swept away by the current, swallowing mud, branches, fear. The screams. And then a woman’s voice: « Hold on, boy! » Then a dark-skinned young man leaping in without hesitation. Two hands pushing him toward the bank. A red thread tied to a wrist. And the current carrying the boy away as a log came tumbling down like a knife.
« I… » Alejandro took a deep breath, but couldn’t find enough air. « I woke up in the clinic. I wanted to go back. I asked about you. My father took me from the city. He said he was taking care of everything. »
Teresa let out a small, empty laugh.
—Yes. Everything.
For the first time, there was anger in his voice. Not a shouting anger, but an old anger, cooked over years of hunger.
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