The Wrong Number

Pablo was cooking dinner on Friday evening when his phone buzzed. The message read, “Hi Dad! Are you coming on Sunday? Mum made your favourite cake.” Pablo stared at the screen. He was twenty-six, and he did not have any children.

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

The girl, Lucía, explained that it was a lemon cake. It was her grandmother’s recipe, and it contained a secret ingredient that nobody was allowed to mention. Pablo made a joke: he could be her temporary dad, just for the cake. She sent him three laughing faces.

They kept chatting for a week, though they never talked about anything important: music, burnt toast, the neighbour’s noisy parrot. Without noticing, Pablo began checking his phone far more often than he was willing to admit.

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