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Hector stays outside to guard the room, and to give us some privacy. Together, we listen. I ask her if she’d rather I stay outside with Hector, but she wants us to listen together. And that’s what we do.
We listen until the end. We hold each other, we cry.
Marco says: “I’m happy” and his voice is drowned out by the sound of exploding guns. But we hear it in his voice that he is. He truly is.
That is the last message.
Without needing to say a word to each other, we listen to them again, from the top.
…
Afterwards, we go somewhere to eat and we talk. About Marco, about ourselves. She asks me about Hector, what kind of person he is. I tell her he’s the best and she smiles.
“I have no doubt. I’m glad Marco wasn’t alone,” Sofia says—that’s her name. “At the end. Did he keep his faith close to his heart?”
I remember how many times we prayed, how he taught me to as well.
How I’ve said that prayer over and over in my head ‘the Lord is my shepherd…’every single minute since. How it’s the only thing that’s kept me from going under.
“He did,” I tell her, my voice getting choked up again. “I think… I think he gave it to me too.”
She squeezes my hand. “I am so proud of him,” she says. “You’ll never know how.”
Oh, but I do know how.
Other than that, we don’t talk about the past week or anything to do with the royals. We don’t need to—and to be honest, I’d rather not. I’m sure that Sofia would rather we didn’t either.
By the time the sun sets, I feel that I know her.
“It’s time to go to the hospital,” she says at some point. “I haven’t left him for that long before.”
“I’m sorry,” I say and she shakes her head.
“It was worth it,” she replies, her arm on my elbow. “So worth it. Come with me to the hospital. He’s not woken up yet,” she adds, although I knew. “It might help him to hear your voice.”
I look at Hector, and his eyes meet mine, concerned.
“No,” I say softly. “I’m not ready and it’s…”
“It’s not safe,” Hector interrupts. “We would need to set up security first. Two days at least.”
Sofia nods, as if she suspected it would be impossible. And it is impossible—but not for security or for the reasons she thinks. I say goodbye to her, and Hector and I leave.
“What are you going to do now?” Hector asks me.
“Go back home,” I say. “I did what I came here to do. The longer we stay, the more dangerous it is. Reporters could discover us any minute now.”
Hector nods, tight-lipped. He’s been talking on his intercom almost nonstop.
“Will you call him?” he asks and I hesitate.
Will I?
Not right now, he won’t be able to listen. But he will wake up soon, won’t he? He will. He has to. But I won’t call him even then.
I let his mom know how things are with me, and that it’s up to him now. I let her know that I have feelings for him, not in so many words, but by crying so much. I told her so many times that I can’t wait for him to wake up. But I won’t go to him, or call him, I won’t contact him directly.
He’s died enough times for me already.
