The two girls sat on the couch. The old came with the tray.
- Do you want sugar with your tea?
- No, thanks, "replied the brunette. The redhead said nothing.
There was a moment of silence. The old playing with the lace apron. The two young people showed signs of nervousness.
- Have you come by something related to my child? - Asked finally.
They said his head.
- you will say.
At that time, the youngest son of the old lady entered the room. The two girls turned to look.
- Is your child?
- Yes
The brunette turned to his companion.
- like much, does it?
- is true.
The boy looked at his mother.
- All right, Mom?
- Yes, dear. Return to the room. Do not worry.
He did not move. He watched the two girls, who, in turn, stared back quizzically. He was a tall, lanky boy, about fourteen years. It was playing with the straps of the overalls. His mother was with lace apron in hand. That detail did not go unnoticed by the brunette, who smiled to see the family resemblance. The redhead winked. He looked down.
- Are you going or not - the mother insisted.
The redhead stood.
- Do you care to use the bathroom?
- at all, dear ... Son, show the path.
The brunette sat on the couch and stretched to serve tea. The old woman looked accompanied with her young son and the girl, until she could no longer see them.
- like much, right?
- Who?
- to his eldest son, of course.
- Yes .. So they say. Obviously, do not look at everything. My youngest son is special.
The brunette did not answer. Looked around the living room. It was clear the old lady was trying to keep your home looking good. Everything was very clean and tidy. The decoration showing a bad taste not too disheartening. Blew into the cup, extremely long time and took a drink.
- You can imagine the reason for our visit.
- Absolutely. He posed
the cup on the table. Smoothed her skirt, which had shriveled slightly.
- You see, ma'am. Come by something that her eldest son left here before leaving. Something special, if you know what I mean.
The old woman gave no sign of knowing what was the matter.
- Look, ma'am, "the brunette continued," you know perfectly what it is. Or am I going to tell unsuspecting? Two young girls who come home ... You follow me?
The old woman shrugged her shoulders and a smile that wanted to go through conciliation.
- The truth is that no daughter.
The brunette snorted violently, wiping out all of a sudden the atmosphere of cordiality that seemed to have settled over the room. He got up and began pacing around the living room to a stop next to the window.
- want money, eh? Well ... We can discuss it. How much are we talking, exactly? Come on, put a figure.
The old woman was beginning restless. He thought up when the brunette did, but assumed that she would take it as a challenge and feared a backlash.
The brunette seemed to recover gradually the soft mood that had shown at first.
- I know what happens. We all know the talent of his son. And we, more than anyone, we want something that may have left. We are not like those scavengers who have spent months hanging around her house, ma'am. We do not want pictures of the "home of the hero, or steal their toys as a child. We just want what they left.
The old woman tried to explain that she and her son had not talked much recent years. In the overnight, he went from being a shy high school student in the village school to become a musical celebrity. So much for a young boy. Two studio albums, one live and a compilation with three new songs were enough to erect a symbol of the new wave music. While that was a facade. In the art scene, were well known that the boy kept dabbling with drugs and alcohol. An autopsy after the accident confirmed an intoxicated incompatible with driving.
*
The boy accompanied the redhead upstairs and pointed to the bathroom door. She passed him, gave him a smile and moved on. He stopped before a door that had hit the letter J.
- Is this your room?
- Yes.
- Does shared with your brother?
- Yes
- Relax, pal, I'm not going to bite.
He smiled and looked down.
- Now it all to myself.
The girl entered the room. A typical den teen: clothes on the floor, drawers open, a basketball in the middle, a poster of Michael Jordan going to the basket. She sat on the bed. Cabinet door hung a photograph of actress Jessica Alba.
- Go, go, "she said mockingly.
* Apparently, shortly after the accident, the artistic circles of the capital began to circulate rumors about the existence of a blue cooler (typical picnic) containing a few pots of sperm the musician. The fans (especially the fans) the group sent letters to newspapers demanding the holding of an auction of such a precious seed. The matter went so far that even the representative of the band was forced out in a press conference to flatly deny the existence of this fridge.
- Those who truly wanted his son never believed these explanations we cheap. We know the bar exists. We've looked everywhere. And yesterday I told my companion: "You have to be in town." And here we are.
The old woman shook her head in denial. Suddenly he noticed something.
- Long takes for your partner. I'll see if it's okay.
The brunette stood in his way.
- Leave it. Only a little sick of the journey. Sit down, please. Maybe I'm a bit nervous. I do not want to get upset. There are only two women who wanted his son very much. Sit down, be Please.
The old woman obeyed.
- We are like sisters ... More than that. If something happens, I would die. His son was the most important thing for us.
The old woman refused to name his daughter. The woman had not been present since the will was read. Began to hear noises upstairs. Very heavy footsteps, furniture being dragged. The old woman took a sip of his tea, which was almost cold. He poured a little more of the teapot. The lamp is moved.
- I understand that you want to keep that last memory of her son. I understand perfectly. I too am a woman, just like you.
She said nod. The noise suddenly stopped. Everything was in a strange state of peace that seemed to erase the tension that had dominated the conversation just a few minutes earlier.
Then appeared the redhead and the youngest.
- All right? - Asked the old lady.
- All right. I was just a little sick of the journey.
- I said I stepped in the dark "Are you better?
- Yes
- Well, let's go.
- Come on.
The brunette redhead helped with her coat. He stroked her back gently.
- We're going. The tea was delicious.
The old woman looked at her youngest son who, in turn, looked at an unspecified location between the floor and back of the redhead.
- Thank you for everything.
- I regret not having been more helpful. But you can not mortgage your future, thinking about my son. He was gone and not coming back.
The redhead bowed her head and bit her lower lip. The old woman did not know whether to cry or smile.
- Well, farewell.
The two young women hugging away. They had stopped the car nearby. Before you climb, the redhead turned to wink at the boy again. He blushed and raised his hand to say goodbye. It was almost time dinner and were hungry.
