Elena, to your surprise, snorts.
Miguel gives her a betrayed look.
“What?” she says. “I told you your mother would be terrifying.”
Terrifying.
If anyone else had said it, maybe it would have annoyed you.
From her, it sounds like respect.
After Miguel eats enough to put a little color back into his face, you finally ask the question that has been waiting under all the others.
“What kind of company works a sick man like this and doesn’t check when he disappears?”
Miguel’s expression changes.
Elena looks down immediately.
You notice both.
That is never a good sign.
“What?” you say. “Tell me.”
Miguel hesitates too long.
So Elena does it for him.
“They already replaced him.”
The room goes silent.
You turn slowly toward your son.
He has the decency to look ashamed.
“When?”
He swallows.
“This morning.”
You stand up so fast the chair legs scrape hard against the floor.
“They fired you?”
Miguel pushes himself up on his elbows, then winces. “Not exactly. The supervisor said if I couldn’t report during peak holiday intake, they had to bring in someone reliable. But if I wanted to come back in January, I could reapply.”
Reapply.
To the same miserable job that had worked him into collapse while paying him barely enough to survive after he sent you money.
You begin pacing the room because stillness will kill you.
“What’s the company called?”
“Mom.”
“What is it called?”
He tells you.
It means nothing to you, but Elena’s face says it should mean something to somebody. She clears her throat softly.
“They have contracts with major retailers,” she says. “And one of those online delivery platforms.”
You look at her.
“How do you know that?”
A faint blush rises in her cheeks.
“I study business administration at night,” she says. “I had an internship interview there once.”
Something sharp wakes up inside you.
You take a better look at her. The pale face is not empty. It is exhausted. Her cardigan is cheap, but her posture is educated. There is a stack of textbooks on the crate near her door in the hall. She had soup in her hands at Christmas in a boarding house where lonely people were trying very hard not to look at one another’s loneliness. She has been helping your son while still wearing the expression of someone carrying her own private war.
“You’ve been taking care of him,” you say.
She shrugs, uncomfortable.
“Not really.”
“Yes, really.”
Her throat moves.
“I just couldn’t leave him alone like that.”
Miguel speaks without opening his eyes.
“She’s the one who kept the fever down.”
Elena mutters, “You would have done it for me.”
