The Wrong Number

Pablo was cooking dinner on Friday when his phone buzzed. The message said: “Hi Dad! Are you coming on Sunday? Mum made your favourite cake.” Pablo did not have any children. He was twenty-six.

He wrote back: “Sorry, I think you have the wrong number.” A minute later, the reply arrived: “Oh no! Dad changed his phone. I’m so embarrassed!” Pablo felt sorry for her. He typed: “Don’t worry. But now I want to know about the cake.”

The girl, Lucía, explained that it was a lemon cake. It was her grandmother’s recipe, and it had a secret ingredient. Pablo made a joke. He could be her temporary dad, just for the cake. She sent him three laughing faces.

They talked for a week. They did not talk about anything important: music, burnt toast, the neighbour’s noisy parrot. Pablo began to check his phone more often than he wanted to admit.

On Sunday evening, Lucía wrote again: “We finished the cake. Dad knows about you now. He wants to say something.” A photo arrived. A smiling man was holding a plate and a piece of paper: “Come for a slice next Sunday, stranger.” Pablo looked at the photo for a long time. Then he typed: “What time?”