Ya no llama nadie

Mariona thinks a great deal about death because, in this town, she is no longer allowed to think about anything else. Her friends have gradually disappeared, and the mind of Vicente, her husband, is becoming increasingly unstable. At eighty-seven, she asks little of life: to busy herself with her garden, to bicker just enough with her husband, and to see her daughter on weekends. New experiences, she feels, are no longer for her. Yet, for the past few weeks, something has been churning in her stomach whenever the family gathers for a meal. Words pile up in her throat, but she seems to turn transparent whenever she tries to communicate with her loved ones. What will happen when she is gone? What will she leave behind for her family? Will anyone tend to the calla lilies in her garden? Where will her ashes rest? Mariona wants to seize the moment during one of those post-meal family gatherings to speak—for once—about her wishes.