Two weeks before the end, Ricardo asked Elena to bring Sofia. Elena hesitated for a day and a night. She feared the hospital's machines. She feared the look of farewell on a child's face. She feared, more privately, that Sofia would love Papa in a way that made the coming loss sharper. Marco said he would support either choice. Carmen said nothing, which Elena understood as respect rather than indifference.
On a bright Saturday they went. Sofia wore her sparkly necklace over a yellow sweater and carried a drawing of a dinosaur wearing a hospital bracelet. In the room she climbed carefully onto the visitor chair and showed Ricardo the picture as if presenting a diplomatic gift.
"This is Trixie," Sofia said. "She is brave at the doctor."
Ricardo's eyes shone. "Trixie is wise. Doctors are just people with better flashlights."
Sofia laughed. Elena watched her father's hand rest briefly on Sofia's hair and felt time fold—her own childhood, Carmen's, this new generation—until she had to step into the hallway and breathe. Carmen followed and stood beside her without touching.
"He looks happy," Carmen said.
"He looks like he is borrowing time," Elena answered.