And that child, the one Ricardo called “late”, began to surprise me since I was little.
At the age of three he put together a hundred-piece puzzles without asking for help. At five I read the subway signs. At eight he took apart an old fan to understand why it wasn’t spinning and ran it again. In high school, his teachers called me not to complain, but to ask me if I knew that Emiliano solved high school problems.
—Your son has something special, Mrs. Carmen —a teacher told me—. Don’t let it turn off.
I did not leave it.
Although many times he did not know how to pay for books, courses or tickets, Emiliano found a way. I studied in public libraries, watched free lectures, participated in science competitions with recycled materials. At fourteen he created a system to detect failures in water pipes using cheap sensors. At fifteen he won a national youth innovation competition.
Ricardo found out from a local newspaper.
That day he called me after years of silence.
—Hey, is that true about the award?
—Yes —I answered.
—Well look how curious. Maybe the boy came out ready.
I did not say anything.
—You might want to use my full last name —he added—. You know, to open doors.
I laughed heartlessly.
—He opened the doors for her.
Ricardo got upset.
—Don’t act worthy, Carmen. In the end, he is still my son.
—When the world sees it, you will understand what you lost.
I hung.
Five months later came the invitation that would change everything: Emiliano had been selected to enter the National Young Researchers Program of the San Ildefonso Institute of Applied Science, an institution where only twelve students from all over Mexico were accepted.
The ceremony would be in a huge auditorium, with authorities, businessmen and the press.
I was ironing Emiliano’s white shirt when I received a message from an unknown number.
It was Daniela.
