The drive back to the house is strangely quiet, at first anyway. We all seem to have a lot to digest and absorb right now, along with the great abundance of food we have just gorged on for lunch. Five days I have been here, and already there is talk of my staying in perpetuity with Carl and Melissa. But now, there is also talk of everyone moving out and moving on. But of course with all the nonstop drama and weirdness in the last several days, I think we're all feeling a bit battered and confused right now. And I still don't know what to do about Eric. I think I am going to ask him to delay his coming, anyway, as this pandemic continues to unfold and play out, and since I really don't know where I am going to be living yet in September, or even in June, July or August..
Aaron is with me in the front seat, and has been quietly looking out the window since we left the diner. In the back, Jesús and Sarah are suddenly striking up a conversation about Colombia and Jenn appears to be listening intently.
"So, Aaron", I say suddenly. "you are a writer, right?"
"Among other things, I would imagine", is his reply.
"What other sorts of things have you written, besides us, I mean."
He pauses for a while, as if to think rather hard, then he says, "There is a story of mine I would like to share with everyone. Most of it, I wrote in Spanish, but last year I began an English translation, and, as I am translating it, maybe I could share it with everyone."
"That sounds like a great idea", chimes Sarah...
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