It is 20:30 and Óscar has not arrived for our weekly dinner. Two weeks ago I proposed to him that instead of having dinner every week day, we’d just have one long dinner on Sunday evenings and I would buy a certain amount of groceries for him every week, on the condition that he made a promise, any promise as easy as he wanted to do, and notice if he had accomplished it.

The next Sunday, I was left waiting for him. On Monday he came very apologetic. I told him that I had expected him and that for today I would make an exception, but if he misses a Sunday dinner with me, there will not be another dinner until next Sunday. In times of work, one must respect the creative impulse, so if I am finding flow at dinner time, I do not need to interrupt work to attend to his hunger.

It is time for him to bear his own responsibility, but the truth is, his disgrace lies on the fact that he lies on the brink of normality, thus he does not receive assistance from the government, and earns his living odd jobs like sweeping the stairs.

The long list of physical and mental ailments that Óscar suffers are long to list, and he doesn’t like talking about it, so we will put that aside.

Right now, I am waiting for Óscar to have dinner, and I am supposed to be mad at him because I told him: the earlier we meet, the more time we can hang out and it is getting late, but he has not arrived. Am I mad at the situation: un truth, no, I would welcome him on arrival, it is still reasonable time at 21:00.

But it is possible that he does not come today either, would that matter? I would feel it is necessary to tell his story only when he wants to tell it, and if he does not come, so be it.