Free The Blue Line by Ingrid Betancourt Page A

dread?
    Mama Fina had turned up at the cooperative health center. She wanted to tell Julia what she’d found out so far based onher sketch but instinctively realized her granddaughter was in no state to listen to her. Julia had launched into a self-accusing monologue. Mama Fina stayed stone-faced, waiting for the right moment to speak up. But Julia mistook Mama Fina’s silence for condescension. Confused, she paused, struggling with mixed feelings of shame and anger.
    Mama Fina broke in before she could get any more bogged down. “We’re on our own, my little Julia,” she said. “There’s no instruction manual. With or without the gift, we all face the same difficult condition of living with the awareness of our own mortality, even as we believe ourselves to be eternal. We all have a longing to break free from the shackles of time. But you and I know from experience that there are escape routes, that freedom is possible.”
    â€œBut I don’t feel any freer than anyone else!” Julia retorted.
    â€œYou might not be freer than anyone else, but you know you can be. Each time you go on a journey, the other person’s prospect gives you a different perspective on your own life. What you see affects your own feelings and feeds your innermost thoughts. You have learned to recognize elements of your own existence in that of your source. And because you’ve already acted as a catalyst, you know that destiny does not unfold before our eyes like a predetermined musical score but like a spring of ever-changing possibilities. It’s within this choice that we fashion our own identity. We are masters of our destiny, in the truest sense of the term.”
    â€œBut I
don’t
have a choice! I’m subject to the whims of an inner eye that barges into my happiness to project me into other people’s unhappiness!”
    â€œMake no mistake, Julia, you always have a choice. You can refuse to make use of your inner eye. Or you can develop your gift.”
    â€œI didn’t choose it, Mama Fina, and neither did you, so how can you talk about freedom?”
    â€œYou didn’t choose to be born, either, or to be a woman. But that doesn’t make you any less free. Because regardless of the kind of person you are by nature, you exercise your freedom by making the fundamental choice of who you want to be. It is because we can reinvent ourselves at any time that we are free—to act and react, to feel, and to think in a totally different way.”
    â€”
    Theo arrived. Carlos Mugica hadn’t been at the church of San Francisco Solano all day. But Theo had left a message for him in the hope that he would call back later. Julia felt unwell and went to sit down. Theo assumed it was a repeat episode of the morning’s low blood pressure. She buried herself in his arms, relieved he had come up with his own explanation.
    â€œLet’s go and say hi to my parents,” Julia suggested. “We can stop by Villa Luro on the way and see if Father Carlos is there. That way I’ll feel I’ve done something useful with my day.”
    Theo knew the route by heart. He often went with Gabriel to San Francisco Solano, where Father Mugica said Mass. They took the bus and got off a few stops early. The city was bathed in gold, perfect for an evening stroll, but to Theo’s disappointment Julia was in a hurry. As they walked up calle Zelada hand in hand, Theo could feel Julia trembling. He stopped and looked at her: pale skin, black hair streaming over her shoulders, black eyes. He held back from kissing her. Julia didn’t notice his emotion; she had caught sight of the church spire and quickened her step. The doors were closed and the building was in darkness. The sidewalks were empty. Julia spun around and her heart jumped: she was standing in the exact spot where the man with the thin mustache had emptied his gun into her.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Theo asked,