Louis relaxed on a wicker chair, on the balcony overlooking Asunción, cigar in hand and whiskey within arm's reach. Far off in the distance a crowd gathered near the Estadio Defensores Del Chaco to watch the highly anticipated football match between Libertad and Olimpia. He was scheduled to attend but after the attempt on his life he decided to stay home.
"Father," Maria said as she peeked her head out on the balcony.
"Maria, my beautiful angel, come sit with me." He positioned the second wicker chair closer to his.
"I'm not interrupting, am I?"
"You could never interrupt me."
Maria smiled and plopped down on the chair next to him.
"I have something I want to show you."
Maria held an old, brown leather scrapbook embossed with the words 'My Familia'. She placed it on his lap.
"Solono and I made this to share with our kids. Do you remember this?"
She opened the scrapbook to the first page. Glued to it was an old black and white photo of her when she was six months old asleep in a straw basket with her thumb in her mouth. Her skin was as pink as a butterfly bush.
"How can I forget that day, my love? You captured my heart from day one."
He leaned over and kissed her forehead.
They laughed and reminisced as they flipped through the pages. Every so often the crowd at the football game roared after a goal was scored. Maria looked Louis in the eye.
"I heard about the gunmen. I'm so sorry. Thank God you and Solono didn't get hurt."
"What are you sorry about? You weren't responsible, were you?" "Of course not!"
She returned her attention to the scrapbook. "Have you seen this one? Solono sketched this years ago. I think it's beautiful."
His eyes widened. Solono had drawn a man and a little boy sitting by a lake, atop two chairs, fishing. Sketched in pencil, Solono had drawn a little cloud over the little boy's head with I love you scribbled inside.
"How long ago did he draw this?"
"I think he was around thirteen or fourteen."
Louis paled. "Are you ok?"
"Yes, I just have a lot on my mind."
Louis grabbed Maria and pulled her close.
"I love you. Always know that. There are a lot of people who don't love me and want to harm me, but I will never let those bastards take me away from you and Solono."
Maria pulled away from his grasp. "What are you saying? What's wrong?"
"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll stick around until I'm one-hundred years old, then you'll get tired of having to change my diapers and you'll bury me yourself."
She playfully smacked him on his leg as they burst into laughter.
Listening to the entire conversation, Julia sat by an open window directly above them with tears forming in her eyes. One mention of her would have been enough. Where did she fit in the equation? She thought about the future without her in it. Would Louis care? Would anybody care? Burying her face in her hands, she cried like a baby.
Juan knocked at Julia's door. The door slowly opened. He could see through the cranny, Julia sitting by the window crying. It had slipped Julia's mind that she had asked Juan to drive her to the market at 2:00 p.m. and it was now 2:20.
"Mrs. Silvay?" Juan said Julia sobbed.
"Mrs. Silvay, you requested that I take you to the market."
Julia stood up and walked towards the window, not realizing Juan was there. Sheer white curtains that hung from the copper rods slowly quivered from the gentle breeze. She looked seventy-five feet below at the beautifully manicured grass that housed rows of Solanum rantonnetii 'MonRita' that took hours for her to plant just a few month ago. The sight put a smile on her face.
After wiping her tears and makeup that left black lines down her cheeks, she climbed onto the window ledge, slipping, but maintaining her balance. The hurt and loneliness had gotten unbearable. She closed her eyes and jumped, but was grabbed by Juan, who frantically pulled her back into the window.
"Mrs. Silvay, whatever it is, it's not worth it."
Julia buried her face in his shirt, crying uncontrollably.
"It's going to be ok Mrs. Silvay, I promise."
"I can't take it."
"I'm sure President Silvay will take care of whatever it is, Mrs. Silvay."
The crying paused. "Call me Julia."
"I'm sorry?"
"Don't refer to me as Mrs. Silvay. Call me Julia."
She removed her face from his shirt, leaving remnants of makeup and tears, and looked him in his eyes.
"I don't want the President to take care of me anymore. I want you to take care of me."
Juan pulled himself away. "Mrs. Silvay, you are very emotional right now and you're not thinking clearly. You need to rest."
She slowly walked to the door, turning the latch to lock it. He wanted to leave but froze. As she approached him, he noticed how alluring she was. Her perfume so faint it appealed to his appetite. Her nipples had hardened to the point that they were visible through her blouse.
Julia embraced him. "Please Juan. I need this." She grabbed Juan's hand and placed it between her legs.
"Your President hasn't touched me here in a while and I want to be touched. Don't you want to know how I feel?"
He grabbed her breast and kissed her already open mouth while Julia stroked his crotch.
After a few brief seconds of stumbling over furniture, they landed on the full-size bed that sat in the corner of the room. The next thirty minutes was ecstasy. Every so often Julia would glance at the mirror and watched as Juan, the dark-haired, chiseled forty-year old Guaranían from Alto Paraná Department, thrust his hips up and down, slowly, between her thighs.
"We must never speak of this," Juan said afterwards. "I promise Juan, I will take this to my grave."