Echar Agua al Mar

Chapter VIII

Lucía lived in Villa Amarilla, a "Community for the Geriatric Deceased" that stretched towards the heavens in a manner of condominiums and driving ranges. While the dead were no longer subjected to the aches, pains, and whims of their mortal bodies—at least, not to the same extent as their living counterparts—there were still many elderly couples and lonely souls with no family to care for them on this side of the bridge. These communities were a place for them to make friends, get the assistance they needed, and live out their deaths in both comfort and peace.

"Is this a retirement home or a resort?" Felipe muttered as they were waved through the main gates. Freshly manicured lawns stretched on either side of the polished sandstone path leading up to the structure's towering glass doors. Palm trees rose here and there like columns, leaves rustling in the faint breeze.

On their left, the lawn was broken by a cart path that skirted the edge of a golf course. On their right, a pool the size of a standard lake was bustling with all sorts of classes: water aerobics, synchronized swimming, water polo, and the like. There were even basic swimming lessons for those who had never learned in life. Elderly skeletons lounged by the pool, wandered the driving range, or stood in stoic groups around chessboards.

"Look, Felipe!" Oscar pointed to a large sign, draped between two swaying palms. "They have a Singles Night," he teased. "Maybe you can finally meet someone?"

"Very funny." Felipe shoved him lightly. "At least I had a girlfriend, once."

"That old story again?"

"It's true! And if the accident had never happened, I might have even—"

"What? Stuttered at her over a head of lettuce?" Oscar sidestepped the next blow, chuckling to himself. "I think if she had said more than two words to you, you'd have run out of the greengrocer's altogether!"

"Shows how much you know."

They passed the gleaming glass doors and found themselves in the front lobby, which was built as an atrium. Plants were everywhere: false ones, real ones, flowering ones, green ones. They climbed the walls behind the white marble front desk, they overflowed from pots around the overstuffed chairs, they grew in terrariums along the upper balconies, and the smallest of succulents had its own place on one of the end tables facing the elevator.

A fountain at the center of the lobby was made to look as natural as possible, its large river rocks covered in moss and little flowers. Water spilled past the floor to a sunken pool where all manner of fish alebrijes swam, their multicolored scales reflecting off the clear tiles. The line to the reception desk stretched around the fountain, younger volunteers mingling with those in search of old friends.

Oscar and Felipe joined the end of the queue, looking around with avid curiosity. Above the arched entrance to one corridor, a large banner advertised free university courses to anyone wishing to further their education beyond the grave. A chalkboard sign listed the week's upcoming classes; baking, macramé, beginner's chess, and candle-making, among others. There was even a course on how to make and repair timepieces.

"Clockwork might have been worth knowing," Felipe admitted as he looked at the sign. "It would have been a help to us when we made those time-delayed fireworks, remember? We had to count breaths instead."

"We're lucky we didn't lose a finger," Oscar sighed, sounding more like Imelda than himself.

"There were ten-year-old boys fighting wars back then. We were more than old enough to handle a little gunpowder." They were silent for a moment. "What if we added watch faces to shoes?"

"Now there's an idea! But... where would we put them? By the laces?" With renewed passion, they began to debate the logistics of how and where to best combine clocks with shoes. If the man behind them hadn't cleared his throat pointedly, they might have lost their place in line.