At Dusk

Home

It was a quarter to four when she announced her name at the reception desk. The place had a  middle-eastern architecture, with arches and pillars that gave you the feeling of entering a mosque. The faded yellow that colored the walls agreed with the ceramic tiles that patterned the floor with geometric motifs.

Isabel took some time to answer the phone, but in the end, agreed to see her. Within two minutes, she was walking down a pebbled path led by a young male nurse. They crossed a large garden full of cheese plants and other tropical greenery whose shining surfaces reflected the on and off drizzle that had accompanied her there. 

This wasn't a traditional home for the elderly, it was a vast area with single-floored houses designed to accommodate their occupants' every need, with a vigilant staff composed of nurses, physiotherapists, nutritionists, and other physicians. The occupants, according to the brochure she picked up at the entrance, were usually senior citizens that wanted privacy and comfort in order to live out their lives in the best possible manner. 

To her right, the nurse pointed to a sports arena that had multiple gym equipment. According to him, there was also a heated pool, a minitheater, a bakery, and a bistrô. On Saturdays, they even had a street market to shop for fresh provisions.  

Deviating from the main path, they took a turn to the left and came upon a coffee shop called Ruby's. Inside, the only other customers were two elderly gentlemen that occupied a low table with cushioned seats. They seemed to be playing a game. 

She picked one of the empty tables on the balcony as the nurse left her, informing her that Isabel would be arriving shortly. 

Isabel arrived fifteen minutes later. 

"You're late," said Angela to a woman in her early sixties that looked at least ten years younger.  Her dark blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders in slightly tangled waves as if they had not been brushed properly. She was wearing a dark grey parka over denim overalls and kept both hands in her pockets.

"I'm sorry," Isabel replied, yawning as if she had just woken up. Taking a seat in front of her daughter, she said, "your visit was... unexpected."

"Yes, you're right. I apologize for that."

"No need, I look forward to receiving a visit from my girls... even after ten plus years of neglect," she said sarcastically, wasting no time to light a cigarette. 

"Neglect? Spare me. You've always known where I lived. You could have visited. Besides," she said, looking around, "this place is anything but neglect."

"This?" Isabel asked while signaling for the waitress that they were ready to order. "This is a cage, child. A gilded cage." 

"What... what does that even mean?" She asked back as a young girl in a mint green uniform approached.  

The girl greeted them, shook her head at all the smoke Isabel was producing, denoting familiarity, and calmly dialed their order on a white pad.  

"I won't tell if you don't," Isabel quipped as the girl walked away. 

"You're hopeless," she told her mother, after witnessing the scene. 

When Isabel turned back to her, she had that mischievous smile on her face, the one that made her look even younger. "So what brought you here today, chipmunk number two?"  

She took a deep breath. "Something happened..."

"Has he died?" she interrupted, impatient, barely disguising her. 

"It's Laura," she replied, ignoring her mother's remark. "She... disappeared. It's been over a week now."

"And how would you know that? Hasn't she walked away on you all for good?"