Colombia

June 30, 2020. Two days later.

The flight into El Dorado International Airport is a smooth thing that I mostly sleep through. Having a fully furnished king-size bed to snooze in? A big perk of flying private.

We clear immigration on the tarmac with the two officials who come out to greet us with wide smiles; they walk away with fistfuls of cash for their trouble. A dark limo takes us to Salome’s residence in Los Rosales, a tall brick high-rise amongst dozens of similar companions, the neighborhood lush with palm trees and the occasional armed guard.

Scarlet’s been working off her laptop this entire time, her phone glued between her ear and shoulder. She powers off her computer as we pull up to the house, a wide smile crossing her face as she looks up at the building.

“I love this place,” she says to me. “After all the summers I spent here, it feels like a second home, you know?”

“You’ll have to show me all your favourite spots,” I say, returning the smile.

“And it’s a beautiful city, too,” Salome says, touching my shoulder from her seat beside me. “You hardly get a good look from the inside of a car like this. We’ll have to find the time to take you around!”

“We could go now,” I say, opening up the limo’s door and stepping out into the warm sunlight. “Let’s take a couple minutes to unpack and then head into the city?”

“Oh, great idea!” Salome say, pulling on my hand as she steps out of the car, totally ready to skip the unpacking step altogether and head into town. “We can get dinner at La Puerta Falsa! It’s a tiny family-run shop just a block away from the Plaza de Bolivar, and oh, if it isn’t the best ajiaco in town! Let me call up the owner, let him know we’re coming…”

“Tell him to save seats for just two,” Scarlet says, drafting some message on her phone. Her finger don’t stop moving as she talks to us. “We start protesting tomorrow, and there’s still a dozen things I have to organise. We haven’t had the usual time to work out the permits with city government, the next round of demonstrator training starts in an hour, the government hates us, and I need to make sure the media’s got its eyes on us from minute one, so…”

“Sounds like you’ve got your hands full. We can also stick around to help,” I offer.

Scarlet pauses then, her thumbs hovering above her phone. She meets me in the eyes, those brown irises softening as she sees me, and she faintly shakes her head.

“You two have fun,” she says. “Just make sure you’ll be presentable tomorrow, mom.”

“I’m always presentable,” Salome says, twirling around on my arm.

Ancient instincts of mine kick in from somewhere, and I support as she goes into a tango dip, my chest leaning against hers as she flares backwards. Salome smiles up at me, and I sweep her back onto her feet.

“To Plaza de Bolivar next!” Salome calls to our driver unloading our bags.

We stumble back inside the house sometime after eleven at night, the white moon hanging low in the sky. The lights in the atrium are still on, and just beyond it, I see Scarlet on her laptop, still working in the main living room. A couple of aides are chattering to each other in a rapid-clip Spanish that I have trouble following, their own laptops and phones and papers strewn all across the room.

Salome, hanging off my arm and giggling, strides into the room and embraces Scarlet, kissing her on the top of her head.

“You’re drunk, ma,” Scarlet says in Spanish.

“Only a bit tipsy,” she laughs, and then stumbles a bit.

I’m there at her side, catching her, and she leans into my arms, smiling at me.

“I tried to get her to stop, but—”

“She’s fine,” Scarlet laughs, shaking her head. “She’s been a lot worse the night before more important days.”

“Oh, so much worse,” Salome says, and then turns to the crew of guys working on a big map laid out over the table. “And hey, how are you boys doing? Ready for the big day tomorrow?”

They chorus their assent, and I notice the steaming cups of coffee littered around the table. The stuff smells delicious.

“We’re wrapping up at this house for the night soon,” Scarlet says. “I need to head out in a couple minutes for the final round of demonstrator training. But headquarters across town will keep running all the way through tomorrow morning, so I’m probably going to move over there once training wraps up.”

“You’re not going to get much sleep tonight, are you?” I ask.

“This can keep me running for a week straight,” Scarlet says, raising her coffee cup. She turns to one of her aides scribbling on a notepad, a pencil sticking out of his ear. “Miguel, you got the latest draft of Salome’s speech handy? She should take a look at it tonight, before we pencil in the final revisions.”

Miguel nods, digging through a pile of papers stacked up next to him. He hands Salome a few sheets of paper, heavily annotated with red-pen markings all over it.

“We’ll have a new draft in the morning. I still need to make the language a bit punchier, but the big picture is there,” he says.

Salome nods, leafing through the pages, giving them a quick once over.

“I’ll take a look at this as soon as there’s some peace and quiet in my house,” Salome says.

“We’ll be out in just a minute,” Miguel says in English, having the grace to look a bit embarrassed. “Thank you for letting us intrude.”

“It was my pleasure,” Salome says off-handedly. She strolls across the room to the staircase leading upwards. “We should let them pack up in peace, Claude. Why don’t I show you your room, since you haven’t seen it yet? I think you’ll like the view.”