“Treat me with respect. Don’t lick it.”
“I wonder what Elena is up to. She is probably dressed all in sky blue. It’s her favorite color. Everything sky blue, sleeping under the mosquito net.”
“Her siestas are very long.”
“Sometimes she comes out of her bedroom at 6:30 in the afternoon, when the visitors have just finished having tea.”
“Do you love her a lot? More than your aunts?”
“I don’t love my aunts.”
“Why do you love Elena so much?”
“I don’t know. She has so many little bottles of perfume in her bedroom, and necklaces and flowers and little ornamental combs that look as if they’re made of caramel, along with lots of books and photographs. She isn’t like other people. When I go into her bedroom she lets me touch everything and gives me things. But it’s not because of those presents that I love her. My aunts give me presents. It’s a matter of affinity.”
“More than affinity. It seems like you admire her deeply.”
“Deeply? That’s true. I admire her. I wonder why I admire her. It’s as if I were in love.”
“Could it be because she plays the piano?”
“I admire her for nothing in particular and for everything. Because she inhabits herself as if she were inside a house. Because she is shameless. Because she doesn’t have any pimples or marks on her face.”
“When you are older you will be the same way.”
“I don’t want to be.”
“You are shy. At your age you should blush at anything.”
“I am not shy. I’ve always been this way.”
“It’s finished!”
“What’s finished?”
“The ice cream. It doesn’t last long enough.”
“Would you eat some more?”
“Five more scoops, all different colors.”
“Strawberry and caramel? Do you want me to go get more? I will sacrifice myself.”
“Five of caramel and five of strawberry. All the different colors except the color of snow. That awful lemon ice cream. I want to go to the United States so I can eat ice cream every day. No. Don’t leave. Hypnotize me!”
“I’m going to get the ice cream.”
“I’d rather you stay. I have so much to tell you.”
“The only reason you want to go to the United States is to eat ice cream?”
“In the summer, just for the ice cream. The rest of the time I would study theater. Hypnotize me!”
“You will be a great actress.”
“Do you think so?”
“Of course I do.”
“In what respect can you tell that I’ll be a great actress?”
“Your little monkey face.”
“How funny.”
“In your way of moving, in your way of sitting or speaking when you are sad or happy.”
“Do you know when I am sad or happy?”
“Of course.”
“How happy I am! I thought nobody understood me. Elena doesn’t understand me.”
“Now you know that someone does.”
“It didn’t seem possible to me, Pablo! Do you think that someday I will be a great actress?”
“I am certain of it.”
“When I told Elena that I wanted to be an actress she answered by saying that my mother would be against it. And it was true. She can’t stand my talk of theaters or actresses.”
“Your mother is very severe.”
“She hates me. Hypnotize me!”
“Don’t say silly things.”
“She hates me, you’ll see. For her, her moral ideas come first, then me second. Besides, she is blind. She’s a close friend of Elena’s.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“That Elena doesn’t have the same moral ideas that my mother does but my mother doesn’t realize it.”
“How do you know?”
“I overheard the woman who does the ironing and the gardener.”
“What a young lady you are!”
“The woman who does the ironing and the gardener both love me. How many days are left before the summer comes to an end? Hypnotize me!”
“You are already counting.”
“That’s the day when my happiness always dies. How much is left?”
“Let me count—part of January, all of February, and part of March: sixty days. How strange you are, Cornelia! So girlish in some respects and so much like an adult in others.”
“And how stupid you are.”
“Thanks.”
“They’re calling me.”
“Can’t your mother buy you better shoes?”
“That’s how I spent the first days of my adolescence: adoring and waiting like an idiot for the arrival of summer, for Elena Schleider, for Pablo with the gardenias, the magnolias and the sharp cry of the birds. During the winter I would see them from time to time. It took me a while to realize what ties existed between Elena Schleider and Pablo. Elena Schleider was so serious that nobody thought her capable of committing adultery. Besides, she looked like the supposed portrait of Lady Talbot by Petrus Christus. On one occasion there was talk that Elena Schleider didn’t want to go on a business trip to Europe with her husband. It was said that she was sick, but during that whole summer, her cheeks shone brightly, which suggested to me that fever makes people more beautiful. For a long time I kept one of her hairpins. I remember when they moved me that summer from one room to a different one that Pablo didn’t meet me during the siesta as he had been in the habit of doing. On several occasions he told me that I should wait for him in the shade of the willow tree that was some distance away from the house, near the riverbank. I would look impatiently at the water. One day I decided to return to the house to reproach Pablo for his behavior. The front door, however, was locked. I climbed up to the balcony, found the door open, and entered. I walked on tiptoe to Pablo’s room. Nobody was there. Then I went through the house, room by room, until I reached Elena Schleider’s. ‘You are all that I have in life,’ murmured Elena Schleider’s voice, transformed. In the twilight at first I couldn’t see anything, but then, like Bluebeard’s wife, upon entering the forbidden room I drew back in horror. Pablo and Elena Schleider, like some mythological monster, were embracing on the bed. They were talking about a golden cigarette case, in a low voice, as if they were in confession. It was a present that Pablo had given Elena. I rushed out into the garden in horror, went down to the river and hid among the plants.”
“Why don’t you go on?”
“I don’t know. It seems like I’m speaking for nothing.”
“Please! You make me forget the horrible world in which we live, its tortures.”
“Tortures?”
“Yes, tortures. Go on.”
“That night they came looking for me with flashlights and they found me quite late, disheveled and with a torn dress. I said that a man had raped me. I made up that story. A little later, when I had gotten undressed for bed, Elena and Pablo came into my room to see whether I had stopped crying.”
“Have a little coffee. Finish it. It will do you good,” Elena told me.
“Please, a little more.”
“Now you need to tell us what happened. Can’t you speak to us?”
“Don’t make us suffer so. For an hour we have been begging you to talk to us.”
“I won’t tell anyone. You can be sure of that.”
“Me neither. Nobody. Be reasonable. Talk is cheap.”
“It was a man, a horrible man. He tried to rape me.”
“Where did you learn that word?”
“I didn’t learn it. I knew it already.”
“Cornelia reads a lot. Besides, she is a young lady. We always forget how old she is.”
“But what happened?”
“He tore my dress.”
“Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Maybe there’s a misunderstanding. Why did you go out at night?”
“I got lost. I was gathering jasmine blossoms f
rom the garden fence. It got dark; it was a very dark night.”
“You shouldn’t wander far from the house.”
“No, at that hour I don’t plan on going out again.”
“You scared us so much. My head hurts. I’m sick. You are thoughtless. I’m going to bed. I’ll leave you with Pablo. You have more trust in him. Don’t be upset. Don’t think. Tomorrow we will talk more calmly.”
“I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of his coming back. I heard footsteps in the garden.”
“Wait. I’m going to put out the light. There’s nobody here. You are nervous.”
“No.”
“You said that the night was very dark. Maybe you were dreaming? Look how bright the moon is up there.”
“I haven’t dreamed. I’m sorry I didn’t die.”
“You are saying that to punish me.”
“I am saying that because that’s how I feel.”
“Don’t cry. You are a little girl.”
“I don’t feel well. I’m going to faint.”
“Cornelia, Cornelia, answer me. I’m going to call a doctor.”
“No. I’m feeling better. Don’t move. Aren’t you superstitious?”
“No. Why?”
“Did you hear the hoot of the owl?”
“Yes.”
“Do you hear it? When someone is about to die an owl will hoot. Maybe I’m about to die? I committed a deadly sin.”
“What sin?”
“Not just one!”
“All deadly ones? I will go to hell. When I think of the fires of hell I feel cold.”
“Don’t shiver. I will save you from hell.”
“You aren’t God so you can’t save me.”
“I can protect you.”
“Nobody can protect or save a sinner.”
“You have repented.”
“I haven’t.”
“You are nervous. I’m going to give you a tranquilizer. Take it.”
“I don’t want to, and I don’t want anyone to dominate me.”
“Nobody means to dominate you. Don’t be a little girl.”
“Being eleven is worse than being a slave.”
“Aren’t you happy? Aren’t you ever happy? Come on, don’t play the victim. I want to see you smile.”
“You don’t understand me. I won’t be able to sleep. That man, that horrible man.”
“Don’t cry. Try to sleep. Calm down.”
He held me in his arms. Silence and darkness entered me. I told the truth: a man raped me that night. What do you think?
“I am listening to you.”
“The next day, as if nothing had happened, Elena Schleider and her guests took me to the movies in the afternoon. Elena Schleider said something about how deathly pale I was, about the need to cut my hair and teach me better manners. I hated her the way you can only hate someone you’ve loved. That’s when I made a plan to get revenge. The next day I stole the golden cigarette case and shortly thereafter I sold it to buy Pablo a ring. I had to wait for the right moment to give it to him. Elena Schleider was out shopping. All the guests were playing cards except for Pablo. Trembling, I approached him and said to him: I know that you hate me and I can’t keep on living like this.”
“But my dear, how can you think that?”
“Then if you don’t hate me I’ll give you this ring, which I got you after making many sacrifices. Will you wear it? Answer me. Do you hear me?”
“What are you saying? Forgive me. I am studying a very difficult subject.”
“With much sacrifice I got this golden ring and I want you to wear it. Will you wear it?”
“I couldn’t, it’s impossible. I’ve never worn a ring, nor will I ever wear one. Besides, it looks like an engagement ring.”
“What does it matter if it’s an engagement ring?”
“It matters a lot. I don’t like symbols.”
“If you don’t want to wear it on your ring finger, you can attach it to your key chain.”
“That’s silly. Who puts rings on key chains? What do you want to say to me? You have strange ideas!”
“You’ll be sorry for the rest of your life.”
“Are you going to cry again? Cornelia, my patience has limits.”
“If you don’t attach it to your key chain I’m going to kill myself. Today, right now.”
“Don’t shout. The whole house will hear you. If that’s what you want, fine, give me the ring. Are you satisfied? Did you have some candy? The ring is dirty.”
“No.”
“What do you want me to do now? Kill myself? What do you want? Are you going to cry again?”
“I have to tell you something.”
“Tell me right away. Don’t torture me.”
“I’m going to have a baby.”
“What you’re saying surpasses my comprehension. You are crazy. I am crazy. Perhaps we are all crazy. But I think you’re lying.”
“I am telling the truth. Always the truth. Do you want me to leave?”
“Pablo, can you hear me?”
“I was studying. In this house it’s very difficult to study. Almost impossible.”
“I saw Cornelia leave with her eyes red from tears. What’s the matter with that girl, can you tell me?”
“She’s a child. You know what that misfortune is like. You were one once.”
“I was always happy. As happy as a bird.”
“There are girls who suffer when they are eleven.”
“Why at eleven? I don’t understood, please explain.”
“If you don’t know, I can’t explain.”
“You think that I’m unfeeling, right? You think that my joy is a bit absurd, a bit cold.”
“Don’t say things you don’t feel. You know I adore you.”
“When there are people with us you are different. Horribly different.”
“Don’t be childish. You are more beautiful than ever. This is the first time I’ve seen you dressed in yellow.”
“It’s the color of jealousy, the color of broomstraw.”
“Don’t be jealous. In your room, in your hair, in your hands, there’s the smell of broomstraw, even though the time of its flowering has passed.”
“I was broomstraw in another incarnation.”
“Broomstraw or jasmine?”
“Broomstraw and jasmine.”
“I had hidden myself to listen to the conversation. Elena Schleider found out about the ring. Furious, she told my parents, who have many children and are very religious. Because of my impassivity, they threw me out of the house. The story about the baby was a lie, but thanks to that lie my aunt wanted to protect me, so she hired me as an employee in her boutique on the condition that I forget about becoming an actress. Elena Schleider threatened to kill me if I saw Pablo. Instead, as part of my revenge, I pretended to fall in love with another boy, but this turned out badly because I really did fall in love and Pablo started to pursue me. In a luxury car!”
“And are you still in love?”
“No. Have you always had a mustache?”
“Only when I go out. When I am at home I take it off.”
“Take it off now.”
“Why do you want to kill yourself?”
“Why do you wear a false mustache?”
“Why do you want to kill yourself?”
“It doesn’t matter why. Now you have to kill me.”
“You have told me part of your life. Perhaps the most important part? The rest is missing. Weren’t you once five, six, seven, eight, nine? Didn’t you have smallpox or German measles? Weren’t you afraid of the dark? Didn’t they ever tell you stories?”
“Do you want my life to turn into the Arabian Nights? The people we hate the most are the ones we have entrusted with all of our secrets. When we are in their presence we can’t change our soul. They are always there to remind us what we were like.”
“I give up. For me to keep my promise you have to keep yours.”
/>
“I can’t continue right now. I am dead. I would like to go to the Green Rose and give Cristina the mannequin. I would like to know whether the man has died. That is my last wish.”
“Let’s go together. Could we drop by my house to get the revolver? A real revolver.”
“Do you think someone might chase us?”
“The revolver is for killing you. I prefer being armed. I could strangle you or cut open your veins, but the revolver is more impersonal. And that letter?”
“It’s my letter of farewell.”
“Give it to me. Everything that has to do with your death belongs to me.”
“I am repulsed by your behavior.”
“Why do you kiss your reflection?”
“Because it inspires in me the desire to kiss it.”
“And don’t you have to repress your desires?”
“No. My image in the mirror is the better part of myself. Let’s leave. I hope you turn out the lights. But what is that light visible through the blinds?”
“The light of the moon. Buenos Aires is my only unknown city. It’s always the port where I have just arrived.”
“Mirrors are very important. They are the soul of a house. Roman mirrors were small, designed to be held in your hand.”
“I don’t like to see my profile. One side is cruel and the other is stupid. I would break all the mirrors.”
“Hasn’t anyone heard of the burning lens? That’s what they were called in the Middle Ages: concave or parabolic mirrors that gathered the rays of the sun into a point called ‘the focus,’ where the heat was so great that things caught on fire. How wise I am! Don’t you admire my knowledge of history? Didn’t Archimedes burn the flotilla of Marcellus in Syracuse; and Proclus, the engineer of the emperor Anastasius, wasn’t he the one who burnt Vespasian’s flotilla in Constantinople with mirrors? In the sanctuary of Demeter in Patras there is a sacred spring that feeds a pool in which, when combined with a mirror, it’s possible to practice divination.”
“I too believe in magic, in cards, in the transmission of thoughts, in human telepathy.”
“In a temple near Megalopolis, Pausanias says that those who look at themselves in the mirror will see very confused images or nothing at all, but the images of gods and their shining thrones will be seen clearly. What a strange pink light is coming through the window. I thought I was in Megalopolis. I thought that it was dawn. How intimate streets are in the summer, even if we feel like intruders. I forgot about the mannequin.”
Thus Were Their Faces Page 34