When our children returned to the hospital the next morning—pretending to be attentive, pretending to care—my bed was empty.

Another portion was given to a hospital that treated stroke patients.

For Diego and Graciela…

I left exactly one dollar each.

“Legally this prevents them from contesting the will,” Ernesto explained as he put the papers away. “They won’t be able to say you forgot them.”

That night Lucía and I had dinner in silence on the terrace of Ernesto’s house.

The wind moved softly through the trees.

“Do you think they’ll ever change?” she asked.

I looked at her sadly.

“I hope so.”

Two weeks passed.