Synchro. José Miguel Sánchez Guitian

with a cheeky smile.

      Guzmán closed the door and threw the small bag on the table by the entrance. He took off his black blazer and loosened his tie. That woman’s face seemed familiar. He took a paper and opened the bag of marijuana; he had to turn his head away from the intense smell to stop himself from feeling dizzy. Expertly, he rolled another joint; he’d hardly enjoyed the previous one. He lit it with a Zippo; first, a tall green flame appeared and then the incandescent crackle of dry weed, wrapped in thin paper, and the white smoke. He was like an alcoholic who swallows but doesn’t savor. He took a first drag and then sat on the blue sofa. The leftover smoke drifted from his nostrils.

      He could hear Gloria Altolaza giving instructions behind the door:

      “That one goes to the right, over there… a bit further… careful, careful… Tiny bit more to the right. Slowly… slowly”.

      Buzz, buzz, buzz

      His phone was vibrating inside his blazer.

      “Shit”.

      Buzz, buzz, buzz.

      “Hello?”

      “Hey, Dad… Hey… it’s Rita”.

      “Hey, kiddo”.

      “Is it a bad time to call?”

      “No, I’m at home, resting. Evening shifts this week; you know, I come in at three and leave at twelve, if nothing happens. The usual stuff. How are you?”

      “I’m fine… Actually, it was Mom who asked me to call… She wants me to tell you… Look, Dad, I’ve made up my mind to become a youtuber… So, yeah, I’m dropping out of college”.

      Guzmán went silent.

      “Dad… are you there?”

      “Yes, of course…”

      “Look, this year has been wonderful. Braulio and I have uploaded content for over seven thousand followers… And if we focus all our potential on it, we could reach a million followers in three months, isn’t it crazy? But we need to invest time, so that we can travel and… you know. Braulio and I are on it with the power house; we want to rent out this really cool place in Gudalajara; that’s where Braulio’s from… You are going to love it. What do you think?”

      “Who’s Braulio?”

      “Braulio’s my boyfriend; I met him on campus; at a frat party. He’s a little older than me; he’ll finish Materials Engineering this year. Mom thinks it’s awesome”.

      Guzmán stared at his joint and tried to figure out how long it had been since he had last spoken to his daughter. He had called her two months ago, but not much was said beyond ‘I love you’ and ‘hope to see you soon’. Now, his daughter was calling to bombard him with news: a new boyfriend and she was going to drop out of college, after all the effort it had taken her to get in; and she was moving to Guadalajara with this Braulio and was going to earn a living as a youtuber. The only thing he could think of saying is what parents always say:

      “You’re only eighteen”.

      “I’m nineteen, Dad”.

      “Well, then, you’re only nineteen… You seem to be telling me that you’ve already made up your mind and that all this is set. What do you want me to say?”

      “Dad, I don’t want you to say anything. I just want to let you know about the choices I’ve made. I’ve made these choices for myself, I’m an adult and…”

      “What did your mother say?”

      “She told me to tell you”.

      “Typical of your mother, pushing the responsibility onto me”.

      “I’m of age and economically independent”.

      “I know. And if you’re anywhere as stubborn as I am, the decision is already final.’

      Guzmán took another drag of his joint, which he had been staring at for a while now.

      “Dad, you have always told me that I have to be brave. Braulio is a good guy and I love him”.

      “Rita, when you’re in love with someone, everyone seems to be good”.

      “You’ll see what a good couple we make on camera, we work well together and the topics we talk about are technology, phones, apps… People love it. We’ve managed to get some sponsors, it’s going well”.

      “So, my daughter is a youtuber”.

      “Yes, your daughter Rita Guzmán is awesome and a first-rate youtuber”.

      “And you get paid to do that stuff?”

      “I do and pretty well too”.

      “What about moving to Guadalajara?”

      “It’s only an hour away by plane”.

      “By plane?”

      “I promise I’ll come visit you and Mom loads, OK?”

      Álvaro took another long drag and let the white smoke drift from his mouth.

      “Are you smoking?” Rita inquired.

      “Yes, but I’m also old enough not to have to explain myself”.

      “Well, I’m not going to give you a speech on that, it’s too late. I’ll leave you to it, I’m in the middle of packing… Love you lots, kisses”.

      “I also love…”

      She hung up. Álvaro took his joint, breathed in deeply and blew the smoke out. He stood up and moved to the table with his laptop. He got into YouTube and entered his daughter’s name: Rita Guzmán.

      Rita spoke while she held the camera in her hand with skill, like a blogger with a lot of experience; ‘Hello, cosmopolitans of the world, this is “easy life” with…’. Everything about her was laughter and excitement. The camera moved and Braulio appeared, a skinny young man who was also smiling broadly, pale with a white hat that looked too Christmassy, and which made him seem even paler and a bit sickly; ‘my daughter always fancied the weaker ones’, he thought. ‘…Braulio and Rita here on “easy life”, broadcasting from the most organic restaurant on the planet…’ Rita turned the camera to her own face, ‘Tocaya in Los Morelos, a great place for your very best moments…’. Rita laughed and zoomed out so that the place became visible behind them; there were tables at the back with people eating and a waitress arrived at the table where they were sitting with some salads and two green glasses. Rita continued talking: ‘dear all, food is here, two Thai salads and two glasses of kombucha and ginger… extremely healthy…’ Rita took a sip and Braulio took his chance and moved the camera. ‘Hello, this is Braulio, and we haven’t come all the way here just to eat; today we would like to show you an app…’. Rita spoke again, interrupting Braulio: ‘that’s right, today we’re going to show you a new app for your phone…its name is Foodoos’. Rita took her phone from the table and showed it to the camera, a logo with an ‘F’ and two big ‘O’s. ‘It’s going to help you lose weight and eat food that’s both healthy and tasty’, said Braulio. Rita: ‘…exactly, so get Foodoos… and start eating healthy every day’. Braulio: ‘Rita, Rita, don’t interrupt; Rita, now, let me explain…’ Rita laughed and laughed.

      Guzmán knew that his daughter didn’t take any drugs but on that video, she seemed to be up to her ears in cocaine. ‘Braulio, Braulio, you are boring and I am quicker and more fun than you are. Right, guys?... Download the Foodoos app and have fun eating. You just need to tell the app how much you are willing to spend and what you feel like eating and it will take care of everything else…’. Rita had taken over the whole screen. ‘And don’t forget that Foodoos is a free app’. Rita: ‘Also, in your first order, you get a ten-dollar discount. Here we are, enjoying life, Braulio and Rita’s “easy life”’. Braulio poked his head in front of the camera, close enough to have touched