Manuel wished that Francesca was still up and doing her homework, but Francesca, terribly distressed and frantic that her mother would also be lost if she left her, had not been to school, nor had her bewildered little sister. Finally, tonight, Bridget had popped in with a pill which she carefully split into two. She made each child swallow half, and had then taken them both up to bed, telling them that they would be fine in the morning and looking forward to going to school. The exhausted girls dropped off to sleep almost immediately, and, when she came downstairs, she kissed Rosita and said the sedative was a mild one, and to send them to school in the morning. Now, Rosita sat staring at a piece of lined notepaper. How do you tell parents that they have lost their son? She chewed her wooden penholder till its tip began to disintegrate. Manuel’s own misery and his mother’s fidgeting troubled him so much that he finally suggested softly to her, ‘You could simply say that you are sorry to have to tell them that …’ Thankful to be given an opening, Rosita wrote as he directed.
