Temporary Transmissions

Day 5

Given a choice, I would be elsewhere other than here, the duende said. 

It was the middle of the day, but I thought the duende's ask for wine was perfectly in keeping. I could use some alcohol myself. 

No, the duende said. Not for you. 

They snatched the bottle from me when I moved to pour myself a glass. 

I need you to be clearheaded, Helena. There's no time for dilly-dallying and waffling about and I wouldn't have made the long journey to this place if it weren't an emergency. 

I glared at the duende and reached for the wine bottle while they leaned back and held it out of my reach. 

I may look old, the duende said. But between the two of us, I'm probably more flexible than you are. 

Augh. I wanted to scream at them. I knew I was overweight and I knew I was not particularly fast on my feet, but dammit. I did not need a crumpled version of my father telling me that to my face. 

It's my wine, I growled. 

You gave it to me, and now it's no longer yours, the duende replied. 

They lifted the bottle to their lips and I watched them drink that wine as if it were water. No finesse at all. Just downing it with no regard for the taste of it or for the fact that I had paid 15 euros for that bottle. 

Well, the duende said. At least you keep good wine. 

Why are you here? I asked.  I thought duende pine away when separated from the home country. 

The aunties are dying, the duende said. It's been a long time, Helena. We let you be for as long as we could let you be, but it's time  you faced up to your duties. 

My phone pinged at that exact moment which gave me a reason to lift my finger and put a pause on whatever more this duende wanted to say. 

Just a moment, I said. I need to answer this. 

Of course, I didn't really need to answer the message. I already knew it was Peter sending his regular midday text. 

Just had lunch, the message read. Hope you took time to have yours too. 

Have a visitor, I texted back. Can't text now. 

I stared at the screen, watching dots wiggle up and down while Peter typed out an emoji. 

He's serious, that guy, the duende said. 

I jumped. They were right behind me, reading along. 

What about privacy? I said. 

The duende shrugged. 

It's not like you're exchanging love letters or messages these old eyes haven't seen before. 

They chuckled at my look. 

You and your privacy. If you like him, you should be honest and tell him so. If you don't like him, you should stop pretending you don't know what he's about. 

Peter is just being kind, I said. Besides, as you pointed out, I'm not one of those svelte ladies a man would fall for. 

I didn't like the scorn in their eyes, but I bore with it. 

You really don't get it, the duende said. Too long from the motherland. Too disconnected to understand. Too lacking in insight into the ways between a man and a woman. But that's not important right now. Right now, I need you to come with me. 

No, I said. I am not coming with you. I don't know these aunties you talk about. I don't know you and I have no intention of leaving my home. 

At least, that was what I intended to say. 

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