Ana

We were sitting at a café in the massive, beautiful Agora Mall.

You need to make a family nest. She said with a serious face.

Have you made a family nest? I asked. I deliberately used the literal mistranslation from Spanish (we are using google translate) because it sounded more profound than standard English.

Yes, I have, but I was not able to keep it to the letter. She answered.

Another profound mistranslation.

The words “to the letter” stared at me. It was clear she was a divorcee.

And I asked her how many kids she has. I was already shaken that she had kids. She looked so young, innocent and flirty. That was one hour ago. I have already accepted that she has children.  

But when she said four, I was totally bewildered. Quatro? I asked.

Yes, she said. And she took her phone and showed me some pictures.

It didn’t make sense to me. There were three children – one around 11, another around 6 and another younger.

She had told me she was 32 but still I was totally confused to see a picture of a boy taller than herself.

And they were not four either. So I asked her, how about the fourth one?

“He is in the ground” – again another mistranslation. Or is it?

I knew it meant the kid was dead, but I was not 100% sure she meant that. But I did not dare ask. It was clear from her sound. Only a mother could still count a kid long gone alongside the living ones.

After our coffee, she said: now I have to go.

We walked downstairs together.

The metro station was to the opposite of the street so we headed that way.

Then a teenage street kid called her name and started chatting with her. Apparently they knew each other before.

He sold her a few lollipops. I suspected his was a usual routine, taking sweets for the kids.

She gave me one. It was heart shaped.

I thought to myself, my life has become a fable.

It is too much even to reflect about.

This girl reminded me of someone I know. But that was not it. She was more. She looks like someone I knew from another life. If I had to locate her, she has the looks of Mekdelawit – a typical Ethiopian face – and the gesture of Maggie. At every moment the familiarity of her movement startled me.

Earlier, I told her she looked like an Ethiopian girl. She shook her head vigorously and said, I myself looked like a Dominican. It was obvious we are both mixed blood. Somehow, we look like we are family.

See you tomorrow, she said as we approached the entrance of the metro.

I gave her a hug and said, see you tomorrow.

We have apparently agreed to meet the next day. It will be my last day at Santo Domingo, so it will be a farewell. 

As I walked to my hotel, I smiled at a joke she told me earlier.

Do you like your job? I had asked her.

Yes, I like my job, she  said. The only thing I don't like is all the time I am spending there.

Such a succinct summary of the paradox of life.