Signal to Noise(76)

Meche put the record player down in the centre of the room and walked back towards the door, closing it. She smirked, realizing that one poster had been left in place, taped onto the back of the door: Jim Morrison.

Meche took out the bottle of Coke and the records. She took a sip of the sugary soft drink, smacked her lips and placed Time After Time on the player, hesitating before letting the needle touch the vinyl.

She pulled out her dad’s manuscript and began reading the whole thing. Twenty years too late but better late than never.





THE AIR SMELLED of rain and thunder. Meche had no umbrella. She eyed the clouds with a quirked eyebrow, wondering if they were plotting to unleash a storm upon her. Her father’s restless spirit might be preparing to teach her a lesson. But if he had not haunted his apartment, he probably wouldn’t bother with the cemetery.

Meche looked at the grave marker and the wilting flowers.

“Here you are,” she muttered. “You left your apartment and your life a mess, you know that?”

Meche turned her head and looked at the rows of tombstones, feeling a bit uncomfortable. She did not know exactly what she was doing there, with a record and a bunch of flowers under her arm. Maybe she was there because he hadn’t haunted his old place. Stumbling onto his semi-transparent figure might have connected the dots floating in her head. Her father’s book, his letters and records had taught her only one thing: she hadn’t known him very well. Hell, she’d had done such a good job of forgetting him, she scarcely remembered him.

“I was looking in the mirror the other day and I realized I look a lot like you. I think I am a lot like you. Which is very unsettling, to say the least.

“I’ve missed you. And... I’m in a bit of a pickle right now. It’s not the kind of stuff I can talk about with mom or Jimena, so, I suppose I’ll tell you.”

Meche smiled, her mouth trembling.

“There’s something incredibly stupid I want to do. The problem is... well, it’s stupid. I can imagine what you’d say about that, “Hey, just do it!” But it’s not that easy. What if...”

Meche trailed off. She cringed and shook her head.

“Anyway, I’ve... I’ve brought you something. Here are some flowers,” she said, putting the bouquet down. “And this is for you.”

She placed the record next to the flowers.

“Gracias a la Vida,” she said. “You never told me how you came up with my name. I should have figured it out.”

Meche leaned down, touching the gravestone with the tip of her fingers.

“Bye, dad.”





Mexico City, 1989





“I’M SO SORRY,” Isadora said.

They were back at the Pit. They had not exchanged a word in a couple of weeks, but she’d approached him after school that afternoon and he had followed her there.

Sebastian pushed an empty glass bottle with his foot. Back and forth. Back and forth until he gave it a good kick and it went rattling into some bushes.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“But it was. I... I’ve been asking you to hang out with me to piss Constantino off. It started at my birthday party. We were fighting and then he went to dance with your friend and I thought I’d get back at him by going to that posada, and then I’ve just...”

“Kept it up,” Sebastian said helpfully.

“Yeah,” Isadora admitted. “He says he wants to get back together with me but he goes after all these other girls... I just wanted to make him jealous. Give him a taste of his own medicine.”

“So are you?”

“Am I what?” Isadora asked.

“Getting back together with him.”

Isadora pulled out a cigarette and her lighter. She shook her head as she lit the cigarette.

“I’m not sure.”

“Pardon me if I say he’s an *.”

“I know,” Isadora muttered. “I know.”

“I suppose this means I won’t see much of you anymore.”

Isadora did not answer. Sebastian slid his hands into his pockets. Of course. What else could he have expected?

“I shouldn’t have asked you to go with me,” Isadora said.

“It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t know.”

“I still feel awful.”

“Water under the bridge,” he said. “I’d still like to show you the factory sometime.”

“The what?”

“It’s a place where we hang out. It’s no big deal if you don’t want to go. Or you, know, speak to me again.”

Sebastian bit his lip and stepped forward.

“If... if you still feel like talking to me and if you feel like it, maybe you can take a ride with me some time and we can go there. We’ve made it nice inside and... um... it’s just a good place. A safe place.”

“You’re very nice.”

“But?”

“But what?”

“There has to be a but.”

Isadora chuckled. “There is no but.”





SEBASTIAN AND MECHE sat in her dining room, doing their homework. The stereo played Botellita de Jerez as they scratched their answers across the notebook. He tapped his foot to the music. Fast, fast, fast.