Flos

ACT IV

     "Did he already know her?"

     "I don't know much about that, but when we asked him, he said her name is Vita."

     "These young people nowadays. If they're young themselves, they'll talk to you, but if you're old like us, they won't even bother looking at you."

     "It's impossible for her to be so reclusive."

     "Maybe we should bring him here to see if she'll open the door for him."

     "Alright then, go get him."

     "Okay, I'm going."

     "You go with him too, dear."

     "Okay, Mom."

     "And hurry up, it already smells like death here."

     Both of them left, obeying Orfelia. Meanwhile, Chaim and Camelia stayed with her to wait for their return with the only missing neighbor to complete the gathering. Their failed attempts boiled down to the hope that the young man would finally get the door to open once and for all.

     Doña Orfelia's comment struck them as very strange, but they couldn't deny it. From the entrance of their mysterious neighbor's house, a foul odor could be smelled. However, they didn't jump to the worst conclusion; perhaps she was just neglectful and didn't clean the inside of her house. Judging by her terrible manners, it wouldn't be surprising if that were the case.

     The wait wasn't long, but the eagerness to finally uncover what lay behind the door made it feel longer than it was.

     The three of them returned in less than three minutes, and the young man, who they hoped would be of better help, knocked on the door.

     Again and again.

     Doña Camelia urged him to call out to her, but something in his demeanor seemed off. He seemed to have frozen, no longer knocking on the door.

     She was about to ask him if something was wrong when he spoke first, with a solemn and serious expression.

     "It smells really bad."

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

     "Are you going to bring me what I asked for or not?"

     "I'm coming!"

     In another city, whose name doesn't matter, a daughter and her mother were at home on a normal weekend day. They hadn't planned to leave the house. The mother had asked her daughter to bring her the soda can she had forgotten in the kitchen before going to her room. The girl, very obedient but a little slow, took her time to complete this simple task.

     "At what time?"

     "I'm coming!"

     Too slow.

     "Oh, forget it. You know what? I'll go myself," she said, about to get up when her phone rang.

     She stopped and looked at the number she had saved, but she had no idea who it was. Hesitantly, she answered.

     "Hello?"

     "Excuse me, are you Vita's aunt?"

     "Excuse me, who is this?"

     "I'm your niece's neighbor. I don't think you remember me; we only spoke once during the move several years ago."

     "Oh yes, I remember now. What is it?"

     "I think... you should come over."

     "Where? With Vita? I'm sorry, but she asked us never to visit her."

     "I don't think it matters. We found her dead in her house this morning."

     "Dead, you say?"

     "Yes, I'm very sorry. I don't know if she has any other family members who can come in case you can't, but your number was the only one I had registered."

     "No, don't worry, it's fine. I'll come right away."

     "I really appreciate it."

     "Thanks, for letting me know."

     The surprise was greater than the grief that filled her chest at that moment. She hadn't heard from Vita in a long time, and it would have thrilled her to be able to visit her, if she hadn't refused. Her niece had always been very reserved, and although she seemed more like a stranger than a relative, she held a deep affection for her.

     Pain appears without being called, it always comes without asking. It comes silently. It appears and settles in the deepest recesses of feelings and, paradoxically, it provokes lamentations, which are only useful to mourn what cannot be remedied.

     "Mom, here it is... Mom... why are you crying?"