13:54 <Quaker> He knows he has to say *something*, before she leaves and he never sees her again. But all he manages to get out in the split second they’re at the door together is something like “…mber sometime?” 13:54 <Quaker> She stops, surprised but not unfriendly. “What?” 13:57 <Quaker> His father’s man is giving him the evil eye from the corridor leading to the elevator. “You know, I’m new in town, actually. It would be nice to hang out with someone local, just to get my bearings. Do you mind exchanging numbers? If you’re not busy. Of course.” 13:57 <Quaker> Her eyes are the warmest brown he’s ever seen. 14:00 <Quaker> A week later and it’s a sweltering January day, and he’s sweating in a neat white shirt and slacks, looking exactly like the nice young medical student he is. 14:12 <Quaker> “Che, boludo!” Agostina’s wearing a sleeveless tank top and camouflage shorts, and sliding into a chair at the table across from him. Her hair is in a messy bob, and she sees that he’s not looking away. Really? She didn’t even brush it out. “So…you want somebody to show you around? You couldn’t afford a tour guide?” She looks around at the street, a nice avenue in Belgrano. People pass them by on the 14:12 <Quaker> sidewalk, to the side of the cafe’s awnings. “You’ll buy me coffee first though, right?” 14:20 <Quaker> He feels less nervous than he was at the meeting. Maybe he really has started to get his bearings. Or maybe it’s just that Tomas isn’t staring a hole through him. “I mean…I thought you looked really cool, and that I wanted to get to know you if I could.” 14:20 <Quaker> “And yeah, get whatever you like. I’m paying for everything.” 14:21 <Quaker> Agostina crosses her arms and leans back in the chair, smiling. “You thought I looked cool?” 14:22 <Quaker> Orlando nods. “And beautiful.” 14:29 <Quaker> She blushes, and her hand goes to her face by instinct. “Wow. Guess what they say about Mexicans being forward is true.” 14:30 <Quaker> He tries to keep the confidence up. “It’s the Italian in me. Can’t help it.” It fades halfway through. “I mean, sorry, I was just — if that’s too forward, I apologize —“ 14:32 <Quaker> Agostina: “I’m messing with you. You’re pretty cute. And you’re paying. I don’t mind.” She leans forward again. “So…is this a date?” 14:32 <Quaker> Orlando can’t help how solemn he looks when he’s earnest. “Absolutely.” 14:35 <Quaker> ….. 14:35 <Quaker> ………… 14:35 <Quaker> Later, at a noodle joint, the two of them are sitting elbow to elbow. 14:39 <Quaker> Orlando: “No, I really am a University student. Transfered from UNAM. One year left in clinical sciences, then a year in an internship. And I’ll be Dr. Orlando, M.D.” 14:41 <Quaker> “So.” He looks embarrassed. “Not really some cool international smuggler guy.” 14:42 <Quaker> Agostina: “It’s okay. I’m not really a professional criminal, either. I’m just a…” 14:42 <Quaker> She thinks. 14:42 <Quaker> “A trainee. For Pellegrini.” 14:47 <Quaker> “But look at me. Dating the new boss’s kid.” She winks. “I’ll get that promotion in no time.” 14:49 <Quaker> Orlando laughs, but she can tell that it’s a nervous reflex. 14:51 <Quaker> “I don’t really have much pull with him when it comes to the business. I think he thought it would look more impressive to have two kids with him instead of one. Make it look like a real family business. But I’m dead set on becoming a doctor.” 14:52 <Quaker> They walk down the street, wandering into run-down but charming boutiques and shops. He buys her a fern in a pot painted light blue, and carries it for her. 14:53 <Quaker> “So who was the tall older man, then? An uncle?” 14:53 <Quaker> Orlando: “Tomas. Old friend of my father’s.” 14:54 <Quaker> “And the woman was your sister.” 14:54 <Quaker> Orlando nods. “Yeah, my older sister Marti. Martina.” 14:55 <Quaker> Agostina makes him wait while she looks at a pair of sandals. “So how many siblings do you have?” 14:57 <Quaker> Orlando: “Four. Five kids total. Martina, my sister Silvia, me, and my brothers Aldo and Ernesto. Why?” 14:58 <Quaker> Agostina takes his hand in hers and sticks her tongue out between her teeth at him, laughing. “Shouldn’t I know how many in-laws I’ll have once we’re married?” 14:59 <Quaker> It’s his turn to blush. 14:59 <Quaker> “I don’t have any siblings. It was just me and my mother.” 15:00 <Quaker> “Oh. Your father wasn’t around?” 15:01 <Quaker> Agostina puts her arm through his. “He died. Or disappeared.” 15:01 <Quaker> “Oh.” 15:02 <Quaker> He feels foolish for mentioning his father so many times. “I’m sorry.” 15:02 <Quaker> Agostina looks at him sharply, but the glance fades after a moment. “For what? It was a long time ago. I never knew him.” 15:03 <Quaker> “Is your mother in Buenos Aires, too?” 15:05 <Quaker> “No. She died a few years ago. Back in Syria. I moved over here to stay with relatives when I was seventeen.” 15:06 <Quaker> “Oh.” He catches himself before saying ‘sorry.’ 15:07 <Quaker> Agostina: “I like that you come from a big family. It seems like it would be nice, always having people around. Do you want kids?” 15:08 <Quaker> Orlando: “I haven’t really given it much thought. I think I would. I like children. Why, do you?” 15:09 <Quaker> Agostina: “Oh, yes. Lots of them. You’ll have to retire from practice and take care of them while I’m out earning for us.” 15:10 <Quaker> Orlando: “I think I’d look good in an apron, over a hot stove.” 15:10 <Quaker> Agostina: “You look good now.” 15:11 <Quaker> …………. 15:11 <Quaker> …………….. 15:13 <Quaker> Later, they’re sitting on a grassy lawn at a park. Columns of fountains and elms stretch across the green to either side of them. They lay on their backs, looking up. Her fingers are resting lightly on his arm. 15:15 <Quaker> Orlando: “My mom is sick. I think that’s one of the reasons why my father wanted to move everyone down here. Less air pollution here than Mexico City. And her new doctors are convinced it’s a respiratory thing gone haywire, so…” 15:19 <Quaker> “I don’t know. When I was little I think that’s why I wanted to become a doctor. You sit in waiting room after waiting room and, at first, you want to see to it that other families won’t have to sit there, too. But, eventually, you realize that doctors aren’t miraculous healers. They’re just professionals, like everyone else. People get strange syndromes all the time, with no cure. It just happens. “ 15:20 <Quaker> “I still want to help others. Everyone has a right to healthcare. It’s just…” 15:21 <Quaker> “I don’t know. There aren’t any miracles. And sometimes I feel like my father and my family still think that I’m going into medicine because I’m thinking like that little kid.” 15:23 <Quaker> Agostina turns on her side and runs her fingers up and down his arm, slowly. 15:23 <Quaker> He feels jolts go through it, into his heart. 15:25 <Quaker> Agostina: “Sometimes I feel like I’m doing something my parents would be ashamed of. And other times I feel like they would be proud that I’m doing something different. My mother wasn’t…she never insisted I do anything traditional.” 15:26 <Quaker> Orlando: “Sorry. I feel bad, talking about my family. When you…” 15:26 <Quaker> He can feel her fingertips dig into his arm, very slightly. 15:26 <Quaker> Agostina: “Don’t do that.” 15:27 <Quaker> Orlando: “What?” 15:27 <Quaker> Agostina: “Think you have to pity me or something. I didn’t ask you to.” 15:28 <Quaker> Orlando: “Sorry.” 15:29 <Quaker> She draws herself up to sitting with her arms crossed over her knees. “Stop saying sorry.” 15:29 <Quaker> He doesn’t say anything. 15:31 <Quaker> Agostina shifts her head to look at him, one eye squinting in the sun. “I’m doing what I think is interesting. And I’m good at it. And I like it. Why is that so bad?” 15:32 <Quaker> Orlando: “How good are you at it?” 15:32 <Quaker> He starts as she tosses something on his stomach. His wallet. 15:33 <Quaker> Agostina laughs and lays back down next to him again. 15:34 <Quaker> “Let’s see…” 15:34 <Quaker> “How about, on three, you say the musical artist you can’t stand. The one that drives you absolutely mad. You have to leave the room when it comes on.” 15:35 <Quaker> Orlando: “Any genre?” 15:35 <Quaker> Agostina: “Mhm. The one band that you have to turn the dial on or you’ll die.” 15:35 <Quaker> One… 15:35 <Quaker> Two… 15:35 <Quaker> Three… 15:36 <Quaker> Agostina: “Huey Lewis and The News.” 15:36 <Quaker> Orlando: “Elvis Costello.” 15:37 <Quaker> Orlando: “Shit, yours is better. They *really* suck.” 15:38 <Quaker> Agostina: “One time I was driving into the city and got stuck in traffic, and they played an hour of Huey Lewis, and my radio dial was broken.” 16:15 <Quaker> Orlando: “I can’t think of a worse form of torture.” 16:15 <Quaker> The sun is setting. They’ve been talking since the morning. 16:17 <Quaker> Orlando: “I really don’t mean to be forward, and I don’t mean this in a suggestive way…” 16:18 <Quaker> “But do you want to go to my apartment? It’s not very far from here, actually. And it would be nice to have somone over now that I’ve actually got my furniture.” 16:18 <Quaker> On the bus ride over, she puts her head on his shoulder. 16:18 <Quaker> “How old are you, Orlando?” 16:18 <Quaker> “Twenty-three. How old are you?” 16:19 <Quaker> “Twenty-one.” 16:22 <Quaker> Orlando’s apartment is in a fashionable Art Nouveau complex that resembles a gardened palace. Inside, the apartment is neatly decorated and well-cleaned. The taste tends towards old-fashioned and tropical, with lots of heavy wood and cream and green wallpaper. 16:22 <Quaker> Agostina walks over to the apartment’s central feature: across an entire wall, he’s put up glass display frames of butterflies. 16:23 <Quaker> In every color and variety. 16:26 <Quaker> A few hours later, Agostina is laying on the bed while Orlando sits on a chair at the adjacent desk. The stereo set is on, and both have headphones plugged into it. 16:27 <Quaker> “I think you’d like this,” he says, pulling out an Outkast record, before he realizes she’s pulled up one of his earpieces. 16:28 <Quaker> “Sit on the bed, it’s more comfortable.” 16:28 <Quaker> Orlando is at a loss. He decides to be honest. 16:29 <Quaker> “I don’t have any intention of doing anything. Presumptuous, I mean.” 16:29 <Quaker> Agostina nods. “I know.” 16:30 <Quaker> Once they’re both laying down, she puts her head on his chest and they listen to music she’s never heard of before, for hours and hours. 16:34 <Quaker> And once they’re laying in the dark, with Orlando very conscientious of the fact that he’s kept all his clothes on and not even gotten under the blankets, he asks her what has been bothering him: “Agostina, why are you working for my father?” 16:34 <Quaker> “With.” 16:36 <Quaker> “I don’t know. My mentor said to. Apparently your family is well-connected.” 16:41 <Quaker> “I like the thrill. And I like being one of the best at what I do. And I don’t want to work in the new way. I would feel…compromised. I don’t think there’s anything worth supporting in the new century. Everything is so perverted. The bad guys won. Everytime…” She gestures to everything around them. “All this, the past few years. Destruction. Upheaval. It’s all in there, even if you can’t see it. Hidden. Isolated. Disguised. I 16:41 <Quaker> don’t want to serve it. Your father gave me a chance to rob those same people, of the things they stole.” 16:41 <Quaker> She burrows further into his arm. “I don’t know. Am I making sense?” 16:43 <Quaker> He nods in the dark. “I think so.” 16:45 <Quaker> After a while, he starts to hum. “Aprendimos a quererte….dese la historica altura…donde el sol de tu bravura…le puso un cerco a la muerte…” 16:45 <Quaker> She laughs. “Shut up.” 16:46 <Quaker> He thinks her laugh, and her teasing voice, deepened in affection, is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. 16:47 <Quaker> They’re both barely awake. 16:47 <Quaker> “Can I put my arm around you?” 16:48 <Quaker> “I want you to.” 16:51 <Quaker> Years and years later, Badawi would think about that night and remember a song that her mind swore she had heard then, and even if the years were not quite right, it is the song she thinks of when she thinks of her husband: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mPQ7y6ZYPto