Their house was paid off.
Their living expenses were modest.
Most of the money I had sent had simply accumulated until Derek redirected it.
“What do you want instead?” I asked Mom.
“Dinner.”
“What?”
“Come home for dinner more.”
That request cost me more effort than a bank transfer.
Which was probably the point.
So I changed my schedule.
Twice a month became once a week when possible.
I learned the road from my city to Carmona in every kind of weather.\
I learned Dad took his coffee weaker now.
I learned Mom had quietly begun selling embroidered table runners online.
I learned Derek whistled when nervous.
I learned Veronica apologized too often for small things after finally understanding how badly she had handled large ones.
Trust returned unevenly.
That was another thing nobody tells you.
Forgiveness and trust are not twins.
Forgiveness can happen in a moment.
Trust prefers evidence.
When Mom asked Derek to pay a utility bill, he brought back the receipt without being asked.
When Dad gave Veronica permission to invite guests, she checked again the day before.
When Derek needed money for equipment, he showed us the numbers and accepted no when the numbers did not make sense.
Gradually, nobody needed to prove so much.
Six weeks after Dad mailed the letter, a postcard arrived.
There was a photograph on the front.
A desert road beneath an enormous blue sky.
On the back, in small handwriting, were eleven words.
Manuel,
I wondered when you would become less stubborn.
Call me Sunday.
Luis.
Dad read it three times.
Then he sat down.
Mom read it over his shoulder.
“He still sounds like himself,” she said.
Dad laughed.
“I was thinking the same.”
Sunday arrived.
At five minutes before four, Dad was already sitting beside the telephone.
“We can video call,” Derek offered.
“No.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to see how old he got until I hear his voice.”
None of us understood that, but we accepted it.
At four, Dad called.
Mom tried to give him privacy.
Dad caught her wrist.
“Stay.”
She sat beside him.
We remained in the kitchen pretending not to listen.
Luis answered after three rings.
“Hello?”
Dad closed his eyes.
“Luis.”
Silence.
