Furia(49)

How many times had that same gesture ended in a fight with my mother? Too many to count.

Keep going, Karen. Keep going.

She turned the last page of the book and closed it softly, her little fingers caressing the worn covers. A satisfied sigh escaped her chapped lips. Her Mona Lisa smile made my eyes burn.

“Did you like it?” I asked.

Karen hugged the book against her chest. “Tell me there’s more.” I nodded, and she exclaimed, “Do you have the next one? I need more Nicanor and Gora.”

I took El Visitante out of my backpack and placed it on the table carefully. “It’s about Nicanor and Gora, but wait until you meet Robbie.”

Karen leapt from the chair, raising her arms in the air like I did when I scored a goal. “Yes!”

The boys arrived in a whirlwind of shouts and smells. Apparently, a pipe had burst in el barrio, and now the street was flooded. Water had blocked the boulevard, and sooner or later, it would reach the sanctuary’s entrance. I thought of our ruined practice field a couple of blocks away in Park Yrigoyen. How long would it take for the mud to dry before we could use it again?

“No mass tonight!” Javier said, high-fiving the air in front of Miguel, who hadn’t reacted fast enough.

Karen sent them a scathing look before diving back into El Visitante. Lautaro and Javier eyed her suspiciously, but they left her alone.

Miguel grabbed me by the hand. “Come, Se?o Camila.” He pulled me toward the door. “You have to see this.” His little face sparkled.

I wasn’t remotely interested in seeing sewer water carrying toilet contents into the street, but I had no choice. I followed him. So did the rest of my class.

Diego stood under the balcony that overlooked the internal courtyard. Three giant plastic bags filled to bursting rested at his feet.

“Hey, Mama,” he said. I’d have run into his arms to fare l’amore con lui in front of the Good Shepherd himself, but it was Karen’s presence that forced me to mind my manners. What example would I be setting if I behaved like an airhead botinera?

“Hola, Diegui,” I said.

If only there were a way to stay in this moment forever. If only the rest of the world didn’t matter.

When I reached him, Diego kissed me on the corner of my mouth. He, too, seemed hyperaware of the kids watching us.

“I told you I’d find a way to say goodbye. Also, I brought some gifts,” he said, and the kids shrieked with excitement.

“Order, order,” Diego called. “Make a line next to Se?o Camila.” Then, in the most ridiculously seductive voice, he said to me, “Se?o Camila, help me out with my balls.”

The kids exploded into laughter, and I swatted his arm. From the corner of my eye, I saw Karen was trying not to smile.

Sister Cruz watched benevolently from the kitchen, where she was kneading bread. With this humidity, the dough would take forever to rise, but she was a woman of faith.

The kids lined up as if it were Christmas, and Diego gave away the contents of the bags. Footballs, sneakers, T-shirts, notebooks, pens, pencils. There was a package with stuffed Juve giraffes and other toys. He put that aside. “For Sister Cruz and her babies,” he said.

Karen hovered at the end of line, El Visitante clutched against her body. When it was her turn, Diego asked, “A football for the little ones?” and she nodded. From the bottom of the duffel bag, he took out two backpacks, a black one and a pink one.

“Here’s a backpack just for you, Se?orita Karen.”

Miracle of miracles, Karen’s eyes shone like stars. “Can I . . . I choo . . . choose?”

“Of course. Whichever you want.”

Without hesitation, she took the pink backpack and filled it with school supplies.

When Karen was done, she patted Diego on the arm. He met her eyes, and when she said, “Gracias,” his whole face turned red.

She didn’t hug him like the boys had, and Diego didn’t pressure her to. She quietly walked to the classroom, but even though her backpack was bulging with stuff, her shoulders weren’t slumped.

Diego asked the older kids to help Sister Cruz give out the toys for the babies.

And then, as if by magic, we were suddenly alone. I looked at my watch. If he was going to make his flight, he had to leave now.

Diego took me in his arms and held me tight until the world stopped spinning.

“I thought you had left already.”

“How could I leave without saying goodbye? I had to see you,” he whispered in my ear. “I want to take you with me right now. I want . . . so many things.”

The kitchen door closed softly, and I sent a silent thank-you to Sister Cruz for the kindness. I raised my head and kissed him. I wanted to stop time with that kiss and believe we were breaking a curse. I wanted to reinvent our history, but then his phone rang, forcing us back to reality.

“I have to go,” he said. “La Serie A doesn’t stop in December. Why don’t you come after graduation? Or as soon as your exams are over. You don’t need to be at the ceremony.”

“That weekend is the tournament.”

His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. He was trying to remember what tournament I was talking about. Frustration roiled inside me, but Diego was leaving. I couldn’t ruin this last moment with him.

“I’ll come here, even if it’s just for a couple of days,” he continued, speaking fast, like he too could feel the time rushing past us. “There’s a FIFA date in January, and I’ll try to . . .”