Ernesto called Rafael on Saturday morning.
I knew this because Rafael told me when we met at seven on the street I had designated for our conversations, the quiet one three blocks from Rosie's house with the small bakery on the corner that opened early and the narrow trees that filtered the morning light into something gentler than the full Cebu sun.
We had developed a routine without discussing it. I brought nothing. He brought two coffees from the bakery, one with milk, which was how I had taken it in the marriage and which he remembered without being asked. We walked and talked and when we were finished I went home and he went back to the hotel and neither of us extended it past the hour it was.
"He called at eight," Rafael said. "Which means he was awake at eight on a Saturday, whic
