Delirium

by Laura Restrepo

  Everyone wanted to hold Aminta’s new baby, except for Carlos Vicente and Joaco, who watched the scene from the remove of men who’re playing chess and who don’t involve themselves in women’s things, and it was Agustina who made the next move, with everyone, in my memory, repeating their actions as if following to the letter a script from which there is no escape, as if playing carefully choreographed parts; Agustina, who was sitting on the floor in front of the television, got up, still in her pajamas, you know, one of those huge T-shirts, the same kind she still sleeps in, though now she wears yours and then she wore her father’s, Agustina got up, went over to Aminta, and asked her if she could hold Eugenia Sofía, taking the baby with the kind of maternal instinct that makes it possible for a woman to cradle a baby in her arms even when she’s never done it before, and she starts to cuddle it and talk baby talk to it, making the kind of noises that are repeated as if the adult were trying to imitate the child’s cooing, you know what I mean, says Aunt Sofi, and I say that I do, I do know, but that she shouldn’t stop, she should keep going. What Agustina said to Aminta’s baby was precisely this: Oh my goodness what an adorable little thing, as she smiled lovingly at it and stroked its cheek with the tip of her index finger, and at that moment Bichi, who was also sitting on the floor, got up and went to stand behind Agustina, looking at the baby over his sister’s shoulder, and he stroked its cheek just as she’d done and repeated, in the same tone of voice and in exactly the same way, what she had just said, Oh my goodness what an adorable little thing.

  At that instant Carlos Vicente Senior, who as I told you was present but not participating in the family scene, got up abruptly from his armchair, his eyes inflamed with rage, and kicked Bichi violently in the back near the kidneys, a blow so sudden and ferocious that it knocked the boy down, making him stumble first against the television, which also fell; we all felt our hearts leap in our chests and for a few seconds we weren’t able to react, paralyzed by the horror of what had just happened, and then we watched Carlos Vicente Senior approach Carlos Vicente Junior, who was still facedown on the ground, and kick him a few more times in the legs as he mimicked him, Oh my goodness what an adorable little thing, Oh my goodness what an adorable little thing, Talk like a man, for God’s sake, not a queer!

  THEN CAME THE DAY of the Father’s great wrath, says Agustina, and the younger brother was the scapegoat, Per sua culpa, per sua culpa, per sua maxima culpa he’s on the floor and the Father is kicking him, how many times did I warn you, my sweet pale-skinned brother, my little lost boy, not to do anything to annoy the Father, Talk like a man!, he ordered you and as he said it he turned into a powerful beast looming over you, you, a child lying beaten on the floor, and my powers eluded me, they weren’t able to protect you, they couldn’t reach you, Talk like a man, he ordered you and his wrath was just and terrible and it filled the house, then he fell back of his own accord, the Father stunned by his own strength and the cruelty of the punishment, And the younger brother got up, says Agustina, and his face, or what could be seen of his face hidden behind a tangle of black curls, blazed with a strange light, Were you crying, Bichi, or begging for forgiveness? No, you weren’t crying, you weren’t trying to say anything, you weren’t speaking out at last in the man’s voice that the Father had demanded, you just got up, awkwardly because your back was hurt, pressing one hand to the spot of the Great Blow and picking up the machine.

  What machine, Agustina, Aguilar asks her, The machine that had been broken, Do you mean the television?, Yes, that’s what I mean, And what did your brother do with it, He put it back in its place, And why do you think he did that, He did it out of pride, says Agustina and her voice changes, she begins to talk to herself again, pontificating so that it seems as if all her nouns are capitalized, as if she’s addressing people who aren’t actually there, It was your pride that made you pick up the machine, you wanted to show the Father that he hadn’t cowed you, didn’t you?, the rest of us watched you from the depths of despair, Come on, Agustina, says Aguilar, don’t talk like you’re preaching a sermon, let’s just have a conversation, the two of us, Leave me alone, Aguilar, let me continue with my sermon, because it’s important for you to know that now the Father is just staring and puffing and panting from his Great Exertion, if you interrupt me I won’t be able to tell you that the Father is exhausted after performing the sacred duty of punishing his son, now he’s no longer in the spotlight and has lost his leading role because it’s the younger brother, the Lamb, who is moving among the pillars of salt.

  Tell me the name of the lamb and the names of the pillars of salt, says Aguilar, The Lamb is called Bichi, his name is Carlos Vicente like my father but we call him Bichi, and the pillars of salt are Eugenia, Joaco, Agustina, Aminta, and Sofía, Who is Sofía?, Sofía is my aunt Sofi, Your father’s sister or your mother’s sister?, Not my father’s sister, my mother’s sister, and it’s my little brother, the one we call Bichi, who gets up from the floor and, despite his hurt back, he bends down and lifts the full weight of the machine, Hadn’t we agreed that it was the television?, All right, the television, which is now a broken machine, and he puts it back where it was although the screen is smashed, Do you remember what you and your brother were watching on television before your father got angry?, What stupid questions you ask, Aguilar, we were watching He-Man and She-Ra, we’d fought over the channel for a while and finally settled on He-Man and She-Ra, and then we were happy, actually it is nice to remember, I wonder whether Bichi remembers, too, because a few minutes later there came the blow and the television crashed to the floor, sparking inside because it was still plugged in, it was Bichi who unplugged it.

  You were moving slowly, Bichi Bichito, says Agustina, and you stood very tall, taller than my older brother, much taller than the Father and you looked at all of us, one by one, letting your gaze linger on each of us, and I fell to my knees to beg forgiveness with my inner voice and to summon my powers, which after the Event wouldn’t come to me, and Bichi half turned, his hand holding his hurt back again, and with the other hand he finally pushed his hair out of his face so we could see that he wasn’t crying and he went walking out very slowly, I’d seen you cry so many times, Bichi Bichito, after the Father hit you, but not this time, this time you were the unscathed victim who walks away after the sacrifice, What sacrifice are you talking about, asks Aguilar, your father kicking him?, If you already know, why do you ask, Agustina says, I can still see Bichi as if the picture of him is stamped on my brain, What was he wearing?, asks Aguilar, Our ceremonial robes, I heard otherwise, that he was in his pajamas, That’s true, says Agustina and her voice lightens and grows steadier, he was still in his pajamas but he looked incredibly tall to me, so that I thought he wasn’t going to fit through the door, and his hair, which was a mess, was the only fierce thing about him, the rest of him was moving slowly, without the slightest hesitation or uncertainty, and since from where we were you could see the big stone staircase that curves up to the second floor, we were able to watch how you climbed step by step, little brother, stopping for a moment to arch your back and close your eyes slightly before immediately beginning the Ascent again, then I tried to follow you and was stopped short by a shout from the Father, Leave him alone, maybe he’ll learn something this time, he ordered and Agustina obeyed, she stayed where she was, on her knees, Your Will is my command, Father, don’t unleash your wrath on me, too; now that the Lamb who had angered the Father was gone, the Father could sit down again and return to his chess game with the older brother, picking up where he’d left off to carry out the Punishment.

  He’ll be crying now that he’s up in his room, says Agustina, telling Aguilar what she’d been thinking at that moment, speaking to the bearded man who’s sitting across from her, listening to her, Agustina likes his beard because it’s thick and silky, she likes his graying mustache, That’s what I thought, Aguilar, but Bichi had shut himself in my room, not his, although I only learned that later, I thought he would have shut himself in
his room to cry after the Punishment, as he always did, and that I was the only one he would let in, to bring him Consolation, but this time she didn’t go to him for fear of the Father who said, What are you looking at, all of you keep doing what you were doing, a command that it was impossible for me to obey, because I’d been watching television and now I couldn’t; Father kept issuing orders as if nothing had happened, You, Aminta, can go now, I congratulate you on your daughter’s birth and I agree to be her godfather, Eugenia, you keep knitting, and you, Sofi, pour me another cup of hot chocolate, please.

  Was that what they were having, asks Aguilar, hot chocolate?, I don’t want to talk about it, says Agustina, don’t say that word, chocolate, I don’t like it, You don’t like the word, or chocolate itself?, I don’t like it, I mean it, Aguilar, I don’t want you to ask me about it anymore, what matters is that the Father’s orders demonstrate that everything is still the same in the house, but his hands suggest otherwise, because they’re trembling, I can see them tremble, Aguilar; although the Father tries to hide it he’s shaken by the ferocity of his actions, just now he’s still unaware of the Repercussions of his actions, or maybe he senses something but he doesn’t have a clear idea of what’s about to befall him, then we see you, Bichi Bichito, my little brother whom I’d so much like to see again someday, we witness your Return, now you’re coming down the stairs and you look huge and your face is shining with righteousness and beauty and there are no tears in your eyes, just a determined look that makes the Father quake and that prevents his hand from setting down the knight that he has ready for his next move, the Father never played that piece, Aguilar, the knight remained in the Father’s hand forever, you were the Knight, little brother, because in your hand you held the real playing piece, the great destructive token that would bring down the house and everything around it, too, remember Bichi Bichito, you who forgot, remember what we used to repeat in our ceremonies, that we wouldn’t use the Power, satisfied in the knowledge that it was infinite and that even though it rested in our hands we wouldn’t use it because that’s where our strength lay, in keeping it hidden and not making use of it.

  Bichi came down the stairs radiating light, Agustina says to Aguilar, the younger brother turning toward us resplendent, purified by suffering, brandishing in his right hand the keys of destruction, Do you mean the photographs of your aunt?, Yes, Aguilar, that’s exactly what I mean, Bichi came in holding them high and I shouted to him with my inner voice, the one that can’t be heard but that reverberates, I shouted to him from inside with all the strength of the powers that had fled me, Don’t do it, brother, remember the Oath, remember the Warning, if you show them what you’ve got, if anyone else sees, the pictures will lose their value, if you show them my powers will slip through my fingers like water, because they’re hidden powers and light makes them melt away, and I repeated the Warning: the keys of destruction only shine bright and instill terror so long as they’re hidden, you’ll vanquish me if you reveal them and once I’m vanquished no one will be able to protect you from the hand of the Father, forgive me, Bichi, a thousand times forgive me.

  Why did you ask him to forgive you, Agustina?, says Aguilar, Because that was the Terrible Time my powers slept but from now on Agustina won’t let it happen again, she swears to Bichi that she’ll be more careful, more vigilant, I swear to you, Bichi Bichito, trust in me again and don’t do what you’re about to do because I’ll be left helpless, and also because you swore in our ceremonies that you would never do it, that you would never let them know we had them. But Bichi did it: on the little table in the middle of the room, with everyone watching, the Father, the mother, the aunt, the older brother, and me, Agustina, the sister pleading silently for what was about to happen not to happen, the thing that split our story in two, Bichi, the younger brother, ten feet tall, He couldn’t have been that tall, Well, maybe not quite, then almost seven feet tall, That sounds more likely, Almost seven feet tall and with a halo of black curls that brushed the ceiling, he dropped the Photographs and all of us saw them, and the air kindled, the void opened beneath our feet, do you understand, Aguilar?, says Agustina in a different voice, her everyday voice, What I’m trying to tell you is that from that moment on our lives were never the same again, now I see it that way but sometimes I forget.

  My eyes were fixed on the floor, says Agustina to the man with the beard who’s there to listen to her, I wasn’t present in my body when my little brother turned his triumphant gaze on my mother, waiting for her to set the crown prince’s circlet on his curls because he had just overthrown the Father; there they were, before my mother’s eyes, the proofs of the Father’s failure to love, the Father’s betrayal, Tell me what that proof was, Aguilar insists, Proofs, proofs, Agustina repeats, I already told you, the Photographs, Tell me what photographs, Ask Aunt Sofi, I want you to tell me, Some photographs of Aunt Sofi’s breasts that my father had taken, slutty Aunt Sofi the slut, and my father was a slut, too, that was why now the mother would embrace her hurt child, the Lamb, why she’d fold him in her loving arms, he a victim, she a victim, and at last justice would be done and the unfaithful Father would be expelled from the kingdom, and the youngest son, the Lamb, fixed his huge eyes on his mother waiting for her warm welcome but I knew it couldn’t be, I knew it, Aguilar, I knew that no support could be expected from the mother because my powers, although they were gone, whispered with their lesser voices in my ear, telling me that it couldn’t be, that the bond between the mother and her youngest child couldn’t be cemented that way, that the bond between the mother and her daughter would never be cemented.

  Do you mean you?, asks Aguilar, I mean the daughter, Agustina, and that’s why I shouted, No, Bichi, don’t do it, that’s why I begged him with my inner voice, the one that makes no sound but that reverberates, Don’t do it, Bichi, you don’t know what the mother is capable of, you shouldn’t trust her, you should fear the mother’s extreme weakness, the mother’s weakness is more dangerous that the Father’s wrath, but the younger son didn’t believe it and that’s why the photographs fell there for everyone to see, the photographs that the Father had taken of the Naked and Willing Aunt, the usurper of her sister’s husband, the Terrible Aunt who would be expelled with the Father so that the mother would no longer be so sad and distant, the younger brother wanted vengeance for himself and also for the mother, so that she wouldn’t be the snow queen with the shard of ice in her heart anymore, he wanted to defeat the Father’s authority and melt his mother’s icy heart, and Bichi the Lamb, He of the Hurt Back, gazed at us all from the lofty summit of his towering height, the reign of the Lamb lasting for a single minute, the kneeling family bowing their heads at the evidence of betrayal, the sister alone remaining apart, with her eyes closed, because she was the only one who already knew, knew that the Great Revelation of the photographs had just taken place, that the mystery had been laid bare, that Pandora’s box had been opened and the Furies unleashed, and Father was transformed, for the first time Father was smaller than a dwarf, tinier than a mouse, and Aunt Sofi, she of the big breasts, covered her face with her hands, while the older brother was the only one who dared to touch the photographs and look at them one by one, and Father didn’t even try to stop him because Father was a dwarf, a mouse who could only watch for the reaction of the mother, Father was waiting for the mother to let her sword fall on him, the younger brother was waiting for the mother to let her sword fall on Father’s neck, and only I knew that it couldn’t be, that we wouldn’t seal our Pact with the mother and that on the contrary our powers would be annihilated forever and the Great Revelation would become meaningless drivel, a pathetic children’s game.

  Agustina looks at me and laughs. You make fun of me, Aguilar, because you say that when I’m raving I talk like Tarzan, You talk like the Pope, I say, Yes, it’s true, sometimes I can’t help talking like the Pope when he blesses the crowds from the balcony of Saint Peter’s.

  AND YOUR MOUTH, AGUSTINA?, I learned a few things about you
r lovely mouth, too. It was unnerving, believe me, to see you sitting at the other end of the dining-room table again, like when we were children, though not at your house in La Cabrera this time but at your cold-country place, which is where you Londoños have always looked your best, or shone in your full splendor, lordly and at ease in old corduroy pants and high boots for riding your own horses, casually wearing tweed jackets or baggy sweaters hand knit from the new, strong-smelling wool of sheep that, like the horses, also belong to you, and I’m certainly not talking about those tight sweaters that my own mother knitted for me with green and gray skeins of yarn bought at the variety store on the corner; you have to understand that there’s a world of difference between the one and the other.

  The clothing you Londoños wear in what you yourselves call the cold country is especially impressive when you pair it with a languor that nicely matches the mood of your surroundings, as well as with the reading of books in French by the fire and the presence of the dogs that you treat better than humans, and here we come to another key point, the kinship with dogs, which is something you have to be born with, like christening robes; I, for example, have to scrub my hands after touching a dog because the smell clings to me and drives me crazy, but that doesn’t happen to any of you Londoños, who no matter what you do or what kind of people you get mixed up with, always play for the squeaky-clean team of Roger & Gallet when it comes to smell, except for you, Agustina darling, who prefer some kind of suspiciously Oriental scents that exasperate your brother Joaco and make him sneeze.