Jacobo noted that Alex was less restless now. He was beginning to show interest in the story. The old man’s animation increased as he worked deeper into the tale.
“The mother was all blind, and the daughter, like Sáles, almost. She could see enough to walk up the road to visit neighbors by herself, but she said she was afraid of the dogs that barked at her along the way…”
Rain pounded the roof. Jacobo gestured broadly, as though to an audience beyond the windshield. Alex noticed that the misted windows diffused the light in the truck. The Nikon was on his lap. He cocked it, adjusted the f-stop.
“Now I had an uncle who was very mean. His name was Vidal, and he wanted to test how afraid this old lady really was—or if she was crying about the dogs just for sympathy…”
Alex raises the camera. Jacobo looks at him.
“And so one day Vidal sees her coming…”
The shutter clicks. The old man’s smile tells what he’s thinking: “Gotcha! You’re not leaving now!”
