Emiliano Mancilla

I woke up with the surprise that the blood stain in my pillow, besides being bigger, was not only red but yellow too, and the pain in my jaw was the same as the days before. I started getting worried because if nothing was changing, it would mean that the pills were only working with the pain but not the infection, and that I would need to go to the dentist as soon as possible. With the problem that this time it wouldn’t be a normal priced Mexican dentist but a terribly overpriced American one. 

Julia had to take care of the little ballerinas from her building in the morning, so I spent the morning calling first my dentist, who was panicking as I wasn’t supposed to have the strong pains, and my insurance to see if I could use the dental services in another country… I couldn’t. 

And the funny thing was that the concern was not related to my health but my budget, as I needed to have enough money to survive the summer in California and then go to London. Cheeky Mexicans, not worried about their bodies, nor mental health but how to make it to the next day. 

I went for a coffee with Julia, had my last Portillo’s milkshake and headed to the airport. I would see her again in San Diego one month later.