Page 115 of Raspados & Regret

Three.

I tell myself he’s at Mass and can’t text every two seconds. He’s probably standing, kneeling—doing Catholic calisthenics. He’s probably trying not to get caught by his tía. It doesn’t mean anything.

My phone buzzes.

Fabián

It was.

I exhale and another message comes.

Fabián

I’m grateful it was you.

My eyes sting.

Absolutely not. Stop it, Lalo.

Elías

Don’t make me emotional before coffee, Salcedo.

Fabián

Too late?

Elías

Way too late.

Fabián

Sorry.

Elías

Don’t be.

Fabián

I don’t know what I’m doing, Lalo.

The message lands heavy, and I read it once. Then again.

Elías

Nobody does at first.

Fabián

You seem to.

I huff, “Oh, how wrong you are.”

Elías

Jajaja. No. I just know how to pretend better than most.