didn’t want anything from him. It was just a little misunderstanding between them. Later, things would be fine again, like
always. She knew this, and yet right then all she wanted was to get far, far away from him. She moved her face up closer to
the air vent and left it at that.
“I never said anything about telling him.”
“Just why you kept it from me, Celestino, like it was a part of your life that didn’t concern me.”
He tried to brush a strand of hair from her face, but she leaned away from him. Even upset, she looked more attractive than
he had imagined her this morning when he was hurrying to get to the bridge.
“Why would you care about some old man you have never seen?”
“Yes, all right, my brother, so now you know.”
“Yes, now I know,” she said, but somehow he had the feeling they weren’t talking about the same thing.
L a señora Muñoz was sitting back in the recliner, watching the novela she had recorded yesterday. Socorro took another shirt
from the laundry basket and spread it across the ironing board. If she timed it right, she would finish with the clothes about
the time it took them to watch this episode of
Mi destino perdido.
La señora liked to say the tragedies weren’t any less sad the second time she saw them. In today’s episode, for instance,
poor Gabriela lies still in the hospital, thick gauze pads covering each of her eyes. What this beautiful young music teacher
doesn’t realize is that the doctor who saved her life and with whom she now finds herself falling in love, desperately so,
is also the man who caused the accident that robbed her of her sight. Gabriela caught only a glimpse of Dr. Hernan Lozano
Ramos as he sped up to pass her and then inadvertently cut her off and sent her car swerving toward a ravine. She is lucky
to be alive. The doctor reminds her of this as he stands along one side of the bed and caresses her hand. He says it as a
way of pacifying her, as well as discouraging her from trying so hard to identify the person responsible for her condition.
A young police detective, much closer in age to Gabriela than the doctor, stands on the other side of the bed. He has come
around again to help her recall some detail of the driver who didn’t have the decency to render aid after causing this terrible
accident. Eduardo, as the detective insists she call him, also has feelings for the victim. The fact that Detective Eduardo,
as Gabriela prefers to address him, has been less than friendly and courteous toward the doctor has not set well with her.
The doctor has stated, in no uncertain terms, that his patient should not in any way be upset. She is lucky to be alive. Of
course, there is little for him to worry about as long as she cannot identify the other driver. And so the respected surgeon
remains the only person who knows he was speeding with his unconscious wife in the passenger seat, sedated from the cocktail
he prescribed to help relieve her latest case of nerves. Gabriela blames herself for the accident. Distraught from having
just discovered her fiancé in bed with her half sister, she had been driving home in a confused and erratic manner that caused
her to overreact when the other driver pulled out in front of her. She is lucky to be alive.
Socorro held up the dress shirt and sprayed starch on the back. She was about to start on the sleeves when she turned to glance
out the window.
“Are you waiting for someone?” la señora asked.
“No,” she said, pulling away. “Why do you ask?”
She sprayed more starch on the shirt.
“Because already that’s the third time you look outside.”
Socorro could feel herself getting red and hoped this was from her ironing. “I just wanted to see who was driving by.”
“If you’re so curious, you should go over there.”
“To check on my neighbor,” la señora said. “What else would interest you so