“I do not mind the alerts, Carlos. I can turn the sound off.”
“Elena is coordinating the kids’ carpools on there, and Diego is always asking for quick favors,” he said. “It is just business, Mom. We will call you directly if there is something you actually need to know.”
“I do not understand why I was removed,” I said. “It makes me feel like I am sitting in the other room while the rest of you are talking.”
“You are overthinking it, Mom,” Carlos said, his voice flat with the kind of patience people use on children. “It is just a text thread. It is not a family meeting. Half the time it is just Elena asking me to pick up milk on my way home.”
“But Sofia sent a photo,” I said.
“Sofia is fifteen,” he said. “She has her own phone. You can text her directly if you want to talk to her.”
“She does not always answer direct texts,” I said. “She answers when everyone is watching.”
“We are trying to streamline things,” he said, his voice rising slightly over the engine noise of his car. “I have to get off at this exit. Let Juan know we will need the side pasture cleared before the weekend.”
“Which weekend?” I asked.
“Elena wants to bring the kids down to see the creek,” Carlos said. “We are already packing the coolers, so we will see you Saturday.”
“You did not mention a visit,” I said.
“I sent a message to the group on Monday,” he said.
The line went dead with a dry click.
I set the receiver back on its cradle and stood by the window.
The kitchen was quiet enough that I could hear the refrigerator compressor hum in the corner.
My daughter Laura had not called me since the Tuesday before last, and Diego’s phone usually went straight to voicemail when I tried him.
I opened the drawer and touched the edge of the twenty-dollar bill.
There was another number in the group chat list that I had seen before the screen cleared.
