“How I enjoyed not just what was pleasant but also what was awful and terrible, that pain in my gut, in my ecstatic shoulders, that venality in my body that you repeated! In my childhood it took me an hour to take the castor oil that my mother served me with warm orangeade. I don’t know what this drink will taste like. Before I have it I will taste pure water once more.”
“How cold, how soft, how new, how pure! If you went into a cave some summer night with a bunch of jasmine in your hand, you wouldn’t feel such coolness!”
“Here’s a remedy they use for anemia in small doses. I stole it from the lab where Héctor worked. Am I dreaming? I hear noises inside the house. I am not afraid of you. I didn’t want to throw myself under a train or into the sea, the beautiful sea, because that way I couldn’t take you with me. I came to this house because it’s the only place we could be alone together, but I forgot that there are ghosts. You can’t imagine how long it took to find the keys to this house—nobody trusted me. My aunt thought that I wanted to meet up with some lover of mine.”
“Tastes, like smells, have great importance for you. Your taste buds are very sensitive, but today the taste of the poison doesn’t matter to you.”
“I think you share my indifference. Today, now that you are looking at me with greater attention than usual, I love you and hate you more than ever. If someone were to see us what would they say? For example, if my father were to see us, ‘What are you up to with your doughlike face? Do you think you can deceive the mirror?’ That’s what he would say, surely thinking that I am the most beautiful woman in the world even though I resemble my mother, in the oval shape of my face for instance, in my chin, in the unusual appearance of my eyebrows. I have lived in this house for so long! I can take a mental inventory of the things I like: the greenhouse that fascinated me and where I used to hide, and the room used for ironing that is now a storeroom. Everything has turned into a boutique. This showcase was the living room. What difference is there between a showcase and a living room? I was stifled when I came here. I feel strangled by the hands of all the people in the paintings on the wall, staring at me, and in the dining room, with its chandelier and silverware, and the bedrooms, the one with red curtains where my brother Rafael was born. I would have gone to hell in order not to see them! Luckily my aunt bought this house to store hats. The sale of the house was dramatic. My father needed money and my mother couldn’t forgive him for that. I will have a drink before I swallow the contents of this glass. People always say that it’s best to drink down awful things in one gulp, things like castor oil, milk of magnesia, though I usually drink them slowly. My dear, don’t look at me with such pity! Do you remember the day I brought you that dog that was crying? I thought it would get better in your arms and I called you. You laughed because the dog had a bandage around its head, it looked like a Turk, and when it saw itself in your arms it growled like a wild animal. I didn’t know it was dying. Do you know what is happening to me now? Why don’t you laugh? Is my death more important than that of a dog? I see the red and blue colored glass in the windowpanes that looked out on the patio in my childhood. Behind the glass, among the leaves that knocked against it, I would hide to do naughty things. Later I would run to see you: I would give you my face and my secrets. That brought us together. The governess was knitting a purple shawl that smelled of smoke and she let me play with the spools of yarn; afterwards she would wash my hands in a basin with flowers where she would spit when she was sick. How strange. The front door was closed; I am sure there was nobody inside the house. I have chosen this place because my only witnesses are the hats, the astonished faces of the mannequins with faces and voices like ladies, yes, but that are benign when they are by themselves. Wait: someone has moved the doorknob. I am sure I saw it move.”
“But nobody could be coming at this hour. My aunt is at home, sick. Claudio doesn’t have a key and even if he had one he wouldn’t come at this hour. Claudio, my childhood friend! What will he say when he finds out? Two in the afternoon. I am nervous, no doubt. Who is it? Answer. Nobody frightens me, not even the devil. Angelic beings sometimes frighten me. What are you doing here?”
“Who are you? How did you come in?”
“The door was open.”
“Why did you come in?”
“To see the dolls.”
“What dolls?”
“The dolls with the hats on.”
“What is your name?”
“Cristina.”
“Just Cristina?”
“Cristina Ladivina, from the Green Rose.”
“My name is Cornelia. Where is the Green Rose?”
“On Esmeralda Street.”
“You are a ghost, a lost girl, with emeralds and green roses. Do they let you go out at this hour?”
“They let me whenever I like.”
“Even at night?”
“Night is like day; darkness is just like light.”
“How old are you?”
“Ten.”
“You are pretty. Look at yourself in the mirror. Do you see my reflection? Yourself?”
“No.”
“Haven’t you ever seen yourself in a mirror?”
“In the water, in the mud next to rivers, on the edge of a knife.”
“You scare me. And how did you get into this house?”
“The man let me in.”
“What man?”
“The man who showed me the dolls in the shopwindow.”
“You are a ghost. Do you know what a ghost is?”
“Someone who is alive yet is not alive. Are you a ghost?”
“I don’t know.”
“You came in to scare me, didn’t you? Am I dead already? Did you come to take away my soul? You are that aunt of mine who died of measles when she was ten, the one named Virginia. Did you come to take away my soul?”
“No. I came because of the dolls.”
“And who is the man you were talking about? Where is he?”
“Over there.”
“Nothing scares me, not even a man with such a face.”
“Are you alone?”
“I was with that girl who just came in.”
“Who were you talking with?”
“Before the girl came in? I was speaking with myself in the mirror. You don’t believe me, right?”
“Where is the person you were speaking to?”
“Here in the mirror. Look at her.”
“Tell me where she is.”
“Look around the house if you like. And the girl?”
“Are you the owner?”
“No. And I don’t want to be. I am the servant. The owner’s niece.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Do I look so serious? So important? So respectable that I would lie to you? Don’t butter me up, please; besides, you don’t know what I like, so you wouldn’t know how to please me.”
“They are all the same.”
“Who are ‘they’?”
“Women. They all lie.”
“I am different, I assure you.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Have you met women who have given you opportunities like this?”
“Shhh, don’t shout. I’m not deaf.”
“I am speaking in my normal tone. Who is that girl who came in with you? Is she really a girl, or is she a dwarf disguised as a girl?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you use children as shields? Tell the truth. I don’t want to think ill of you, but there are some things that don’t seem right to me. For example: to use a ten-year-old girl to protect yourself. Besides, don’t you know that children are very wise? They are detectives, tiny detectives.”
“Be quiet. Don’t speak in such a loud voice.”
“I am speaking in a low voice as if I were in the confessional. Do you ever confess?”
“Answer and don’t ask questions. Is there anyone in the house?”
“Why do you look at me like that? Don’t you
consider me a person?”
“Is there someone besides you? Shhh, be quiet.”
“Don’t be afraid. There is no one. Just me and the mirror. Sometimes I think there are ghosts in this house. Today I thought there was one, but when I found out it was you and that girl who looked like a ghost I calmed down. ‘No matter how bad a man is, he is a man,’ I told myself.”
“Shhh. I forbid you to speak.”
“I won’t speak.”
“Where are the house keys?”
“If you tell me not to speak, how can I answer?”
“Don’t be silly.”
“Which keys? There are so many keys.”
“Any key.”
“Don’t you know which keys you want? There are many keys: the one to the big chest of drawers, the one to the storeroom, the one to the pantry, the one to the trunks, the one to the iron safe. Which one do you want?”
“The one to the iron safe.”
“Here they are. My aunt is very imprudent. She doesn’t look rich.”
“Give me the keys.”
“And then what will you do to me? Do you intend to kill me?”
“That would make sense.”
“How do you intend to kill me? With that knife? Do you think I can’t see it?”
“Are you scared of it?”
“A little. I don’t like weapons. Do you have a revolver?”
“I have everything I need.”
“That knife is hideous. Do you know if it’s sharp, at least?”
“It’s rust-proof. It slides right through.”
“But with the blade against the throat? That first icy contact with the steel . . . And then . . . The blood running and staining the floor . . . making spots on the rugs and the curtains . . . Doesn’t it make you sick?”
“I won’t kill you with this knife.”
“How then? With a bullet?”
“With a razor blade.”
“With one of those pencil-sharpening blades? Isn’t it more practical to use a knife? After all, a knife is used more than a razor blade for such purposes.”
“It’s a matter of habit.”
“I would use a knife or a revolver. A sword is too long. How crazy. A revolver, of course, isn’t a good idea because it’s noisy. The sound hurts my ears. I have to cover them when I hear a shot, which is why I could never go to a shooting range, even though I consider myself a good shot. I didn’t try committing suicide with a revolver. Do you know how to shoot? Did you win any prizes? Men know how to shoot. It’s no use—that’s why men go to war and women stay at home or in hospitals tending to the wounded. I’m always behind the times. Women were born to stay quietly at home, men for great adventures, for dangerous enterprises.”
“They are brand-new. These razor blades are brand-new.”
“I know you’re a very good man. You have a kind face. All the faces in the mirror are kind. Of course a face doesn’t say anything. In the papers there are pictures of men with the faces of murderers though they are saints, while there are others with the faces of saints though they are actually murderers. Will you promise to murder me? Promise.”
“I promise. Give me the keys.”
“And where will you attack me?”
“That’s easy. I will cut the veins of your wrist, and then your blood will flow out. If it takes a long time I can submerge you in a hot bath. Is there a bathtub in this house?”
“There’s a bathtub, but there isn’t any hot water at this hour. Please begin. I have a great desire to die. You are very good, but what do you intend to do with my body? Do you intend to cut it up in little bits and spread them across the province of Buenos Aires? Do you intend to carry me in a sack, like people carry coal or potatoes? Or just leave me lying on the floor? Do you know there are mice in this house that could disfigure me? It would be a shame. Do you hear them? Do you know of any poison to kill them? My aunt is worried: the other night they pulled the feathers off a hat along with two cherries tied on with a velvet ribbon. Traps are no good. What if they decided to eat off my fingertips? If they were to bite the back of my neck or my throat? Can you imagine the pain I would feel?”
“The dead don’t feel pain, miss.”
“Is that what you think, sir? The dead are very sensitive. They feel everything. They think more clearly than we do. If you offer them meat or wine they won’t appreciate it, but offer them music or perfume and you’ll see. They are never absentminded. They see ultraviolet colors like doves do. They are refined and sensitive. Otherwise, how else could you explain that they are given so many flowers? That people spend so much on flowers, statuettes, masses, hearses? How should I know?”
“That is an old custom. Which key is it?”
“Customs have a reason for existing. The dead see the flowers, they know where they are buried and who killed them. They see the hearse, the black circus horses, the white initials on the black cloth that covers them. Dear sir, couldn’t you throw me into the sea? I love the sea. I hate ceremonies, candles, flowers, the whisperings of prayers. I am bad. Nobody loves me.”
“The sea is far away. Which key is it?”
“Don’t you have a car? You could rent one. Or maybe your brothers or your uncles have one? Surely some friend does. You prop me up in the car as if I were alive and take me to the sea. It’s so easy, and the sea is so beautiful. It would be a nice trip for you. Don’t you like the sea?”
“Bodies float, miss. They float ashore.”
“You could put rocks or lead weights on my feet. Haven’t you read in a newspaper or novel that they throw bodies into the sea? Don’t you ever go to the movies? It’s so poetic.”
“Give me the key.”
“It’s one of these. Don’t disturb the papers in the safe. My aunt suffers a lot when there is anything messy in the house. Don’t let your cigarette ashes drop on the floor please. Afterwards I will have to sweep up.”
“Don’t move.”
“I won’t move. Can you open it? My aunt always has trouble with that, too. She can never open a locked drawer or door. It’s one of her misfortunes. Why don’t you take off your gloves?”
“You will open this door right now, you scorpion.”
“Who are you talking to?”
“If I turn to the left you twist to the right; if I turn to the right you twist to the left, you bitch.”
“Are you talking to the keys?”
“Don’t you talk to the mirror? What difference is there between a key and a mirror?”
“The mirror answers me.”
“These answer me, too. They see you are a liar.”
“I swear I’m not. Do you want me to open it?”
“You are lying.”
“I don’t lie. Safes are hard to open, but any thief can open them. Aren’t you a professional thief, my dear friend? Tell me about your life. It must be interesting, a life so full of unexpected things. Are you married? No. You are too young. Were you ever engaged? Are your parents alive? Do you have any sisters? Have you traveled? Where did you spend your childhood? Do you have photographs of yourself as a child? I would like to see them. Have you traveled in Argentina? I haven’t ever left Buenos Aires; I never traveled. Can you believe it? A woman my age. When I think that China exists, India, Russia, France, Canada, Italy, Italy above all, that makes me desperate. Few people like me. Because women don’t like an ambitious woman. In my adolescence I stole a golden cigarette case and sold it for a hundred pesos. You have to be brave to commit a robbery. Those who let others rob them are fearful, don’t you think? My aunt, for example: every night she looks under her bed to see if there’s a thief. I, on the other hand, am afraid of ghosts. In this house they say there are ghosts, a ghost dressed in red. Did you notice the color of the walls when you came in? Maybe you didn’t see them because it was dark. Well, the ghost is dressed in that same red color, an orange red, the color of bricks. She is a little girl, I saw her with my own eyes. It’s so hot. Aren’t you hot with that scarf on? Why do you
wear that scarf? Doesn’t it bother you? You have a scar on your forehead. Are you deaf? Why don’t you answer me?”
“What a night!”
“Are you thirsty? Do you want to have a glass of water?”
“Water is for fish.”
“It’s good to drink water when it’s hot.”
“I don’t do what’s good. I do whatever I feel like.”
“You’re right. I would do the same if I could. But I am not so impolite. I have no willpower. Do you want a glass of whiskey or gin? Some Argentine brandy? Sherry? Here in this cabinet we have some bottles. When we finish working we sometimes have a little drink.”
“I don’t care about drinks.”
“Don’t you want anything? Nobody dies from a glass of whiskey.”
“Don’t insist, miss.”
“What luck! This poison is mine; I want it to be mine. How it glows in the mirror!”
“Here’s another key.”
“I’m confused. It’s surely this one. It finally opened. Now will you find what you were looking for? Nothing. Your hurry only lasts a minute. You are very original. You don’t throw anything on the ground. There’s nothing that you think is valuable, but each person has different ideas about what is valuable.”
“Now I am thirsty. I could drink a whole demijohn of water. This one isn’t cold enough but I’ll drink it anyway.”
“Now you have to kill me.”
“I changed my mind. I didn’t find what I was looking for here.”
“You aren’t looking for anything. You are a poor crazy person. You have to kill me. Did you hear me? To redeem yourself you have to kill me. If you don’t keep your promise I will inform the police about you. You will die of shame. Look at yourself in the mirror!”
“If you want to inform on me go ahead. I burnt churches, I donated blood in the hospitals, I have a universal blood type. I don’t like to boast but I don’t want you to think that I am good for nothing. I did a good job. Now they have asked me to kill—”
“To kill whom?”
“That’s a secret.”
“You are tired. Why do you speak like that? Are you tired?”
Thus Were Their Faces Page 32