That afternoon, in the spacious, warm kitchen, Mercedes served her daughter a bowl of hot soup. Carolina ate desperately, while Mercedes watched her tenderly. "Rodrigo lost everything, Mom," Carolina said between sobs. "He went crazy. He blamed me for everything. He lives in a hovel in Doctores, filled with hatred." "Hatred is a poison you take hoping the other person will die," Mercedes said wisely. "He's already paying his price."
"Mom... how can you look at me without disgust? After what we did to you..." Mercedes took her hand. "Because someone looked at me with love when I was lying in the mud, Carolina. And if He forgave my sins, who am I to not forgive you?"
CHAPTER 8: THE LAST VISION
Six months passed. Life in the house in San Ángel changed. Carolina, now recovered, was no longer the frivolous woman she once was. She cut her hair, stopped wearing makeup, and started working, helping her mother at the community kitchen. She found peace peeling potatoes, waiting tables, and smiling at strangers. She learned that dignity lies not in the brand of your purse, but in the purity of your soul.
But something was missing. “We have to go see him,” Mercedes said one day. “Rodrigo? No, Mom! He’s dangerous.” “He’s not dangerous, daughter. He’s a lost soul. And God doesn’t consider anyone lost until their last breath.”
They went to the tenement in Doctores. The place smelled of dampness and despair. Rodrigo opened the door. He was unrecognizable: thin, with months-old beard, his eyes dull. When he saw Mercedes, he backed away as if he'd seen a ghost, bumping into the wall of his miserable room. "Did you come to make fun of me?" he spat, his voice hoarse. "Did you come to see how the 'great' Rodrigo Salazar is living now? Get lost, old woman!"
