The Blue Line

by Ingrid Betancourt

  No, she wasn’t ready to read the letter. Not now, when she had to go to her job at the Institut Gustave-Roussy, and afterward rush to pick up Ulysses from school.

  —

  “Mom, I’ve got lots of homework!” Ulysses said, leaping into her arms.

  Lost in thought, Julia kissed him.

  “Will you help me?” Ulysses asked, clinging to her.

  “I don’t feel up to it right now, angel. Besides, my French isn’t that good.”

  “But it’s math, and also I have to do a drawing. Please.”

  “No, you don’t need my help.”

  “Come on, Mom!” Ulysses said, tickling her.

  “Stop it! Everyone’s looking at us,” Julia said, laughing. “All right, I’ll do the drawing, but you must do the rest yourself.”

  Ulysses skipped along, swinging his schoolbag.

  “Mom, have you heard from Theo?”

  “I’ve told you to call him Dad; he’s your father.”

  “But I’ve never seen him!”

  “You’ve seen photos.”

  “Mom!”

  “No, I haven’t heard from Theo.”

  Without letting go of his bag, Ulysses gave his mother a big bear hug and looked up at her.

  “So why are you making that face, Mom?”

  “I got a letter.”

  “From Theo?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want us to read it together?”

  “No, love. I think I’d rather read it alone.”

  The boy began to play a game with one of his pencils as he walked along. He stopped short outside a bakery, where the baker was placing trays of piping-hot golden brown galettes in the window. Julia looked at Ulysses, pretending to be cross, and went into the bakery.

  “And a chocolate croissant too!” Ulysses shouted.

  —

  That night, when everything around her was silent, Julia went to sit on the floor in a corner, next to the bed where Ulysses still slept with her.

  The letter was from her father. She could hear his voice as she read the carefully penned words. She had been expecting the worst. But not this.

  In a way, news of Theo’s death, however harrowing it might be, was the event she had been bracing herself for all these years. She knew she would have to face up to the truth one day. But in her headlong rush into the future, she had decided to live her life choosing to believe that Theo was still being held in the Unidad 9 prison in La Plata. And yet things had changed. The election of Alfonsín* a year and a half earlier had put an end to the dictatorship and, inevitably, to the lie. Julia understood her family would be forced to tell her the truth. And in her heart of hearts she knew it would come as a relief.

  But not this. The shock made her numb. The words began to dance in front of her eyes, as if she had suddenly forgotten what the letters signified. She had to reread her father’s letter out loud before she could take it in. She had been completely unprepared for Mama Fina’s death.

  Unable to slow her racing heart, she wondered why she couldn’t cry. Even as her mind began to function again, her heart remained frozen. Mama Fina was too present in her life. She couldn’t have gone without telling her. Ever since Julia had arrived in France, her life had been punctuated by Mama Fina’s visits. She was her rock. Julia felt like she was falling from a cliff.

  “Mom? Mom!”

  Ulysses’ voice woke her. It was morning and she was still sitting at the foot of the bed, her eyes swollen, her body convulsing.

  “Mom, what’s the matter?”

  Julia flapped the letter she was still holding.

  “It’s Mama Fina,” she said, choking back sobs. “She died last week.”

  The child looked at her, frightened.

  “And Theo?” he asked.

  Julia blinked helplessly. “Theo?”

  “Yes, Theo!” Ulysses repeated. “Is he dead too?”

  “But that’s got nothing to do with it, my angel,” Julia answered, standing up with an effort.

  Ulysses looked her up and down, his eyes filling with tears.

  “Yes it does! You always say Mama Fina’s going to find him.”

  Julia sat down on the bed, closed her eyes, and hugged Ulysses tight.

  “Oh, sweet angel! I’m so sorry.” She stroked his hair. “We’ll find him, you and me, I promise.”

  —

  The family sent Anna on a special visit at the end of the summer. Paris was very hot. One afternoon Julia took her sister for a stroll through one of the old neighborhoods in the city. From the Marais they ended up by the river in search of slightly cooler air. They sat down in the shade of a chestnut tree on the banks of the Seine, admiring the view of the succession of bridges. Anna slipped off her shoes and dangled her feet above the water. Seated beside her, Julia seemed happy.

  “Maybe it’s time you found yourself a boyfriend,” Anna said without thinking.

  Julia burst out laughing. “Do I look like a spinster?”

  “That’s just it. You don’t.”

  Julia shot Anna an enigmatic look. “I have male friends.”

  “I’m sure you do. But I’m talking about having a man in your life.”

  “Hmm. I still find it hard.”

  Anna slipped her hands under her thighs, her body tense.

  “Julia, you know Theo’s not coming back.”

  “I don’t know, actually. You all lied to me for ten years.”

  “Stop it,” Anna interrupted. “Dad and Mom thought they were doing the right thing. And you weren’t fooled for long.”

  “I don’t know about that. Maybe I’m still waiting for him.”

  “Listen, Julia. Mama Fina and I searched everywhere. We pursued every possible lead.”

  “But if he was dead Mama Fina would have sensed it, and she would have told me.”

  Anna heaved a sigh, took her sister’s hand, and looked her straight in the eye.

  “Julia . . .” She broke off, bit her lip, then added: “But I don’t know if I should. I decided I would never tell you.”

  Julia pressed her to continue. “It’s too late now, Anna. You’ve started, so you have to finish.”

  “It might hurt you, Julia.”

  Julia hugged her knees and turned to face Anna. “Right. Tell me whatever it is you need to tell me, Anna. I’m hurting anyway, and I’ve been hurting for too long.”

  She leaned in close to Anna and added gravely: “You don’t have a right to hide this from me.”

  Anna blew a lock of hair off her forehead and threw her head back. “This was several years ago,” she began. “Rosa was still in the psychiatric ward at Devoto. No one ever went to visit her except Mom and me.”

  She paused and then continued: “But the first time I went, there was someone else there.”

  Julia sat stock-still, hanging on Anna’s every word.

  “It was a young girl. I thought she must be a cousin, someone in her family. But when I got closer, I heard her asking Rosa if she recognized her. She said she’d been in Castelar too.”

  A shiver went through Julia.

  “I acted straightaway. I thought she could tell me something. So I introduced myself. I said I was your sister. But as soon as I said your name, she got up to leave. She was like you are now: trembling, pale.”

  Julia seized her sister’s arm. “Was it Adriana?”

  “Wait, let me speak.”

  Julia made an effort to control herself.

  “I told her that if she left, I would follow her. The guard came to see what was up. We both sat down again next to Rosa as if nothing was the matter. That was when she made me promise I wouldn’t tell anyone I’d seen her, not even you.”

  “But . . . why? I don’t understand. So it wasn’t Adriana?”

  �
�Yes, it was Adriana. But she was scared to death. She told me that if the military found her, they would kill her. I asked her what she was doing in Devoto in that case—she’d walked straight into the lion’s den. She gave me to understand that she’d changed her identity and that Rosa was one of her alibis.”

  Julia jumped to her feet, twisting the belt of her dress in her hands.

  “My God, didn’t you ask her where Theo was?”

  “Of course I did. That was my reason for being there!”

  “And?”

  “She didn’t want to give me any details, but she pleaded with me to convince you not to think of him anymore. She said that you have to forget him. She was crying as she spoke, Julia.”

  Anna had stood up too. She tried to move closer to her sister, who stepped away.

  “I don’t know what happened to Theo, Julia. But I do know what happened to Gabriel. I found out from the Jesuits. Mama Fina told me you knew. You can imagine . . .”

  “I don’t want to imagine any longer! I’ve been imagining for the past ten years!” Julia shouted.

  Anna tried to take Julia in her arms.

  “Don’t touch me, Anna. You don’t understand. I have to know what happened to him.”

  “But . . . what happened to him is what happened to thousands of other young Argentines. He died in one of the secret camps during the dictatorship. That’s all you need to know. As for the rest, the details . . .”

  “But that’s exactly it, Anna! I want the details. I want to know who killed him, how, where. Theo is not a statistic. He’s the father of my child, the man I love. I want to know everything! Everything!”

  Anna just stood there, a crushed expression on her face.

  “And Adriana? Why didn’t you give me her address, her new identity?”

  Anna was fighting back tears so hard she could barely speak. She managed to whisper: “Julia, I’m so sorry. She didn’t want me to know. I lost track of her.”

  32.

  BUENOS AIRES

  Boreal Winter

  2000

  Ulysses was sitting at the dining room table chatting with Olivier. The air was just turning brisk. Julia got up to shut the door to the garden and adjusted her sweater. She finished clearing away the plates, tidied up the kitchen, and came back to sit down with them.

  “Your grades are excellent,” Olivier was telling Ulysses. “I shouldn’t think you’ll have any difficulties, whatever you decide to do.”

  “But I don’t know what I want to do,” Ulysses answered. “That’s my whole problem.”

  “It’s only to be expected. You’ve been studying for a long time.”

  “And I’m not sure I want to go any further.”

  “It’s like I said: the hard part isn’t getting into med school; it’s sticking with it.”

  “You must be kidding, Olivier! It’s all hard.”

  They exchanged a smile.

  “But that doesn’t change anything,” Ulysses went on. “I like what I do. I probably wouldn’t have studied medicine if it hadn’t been for you, but . . .”

  “I think it’s in your blood,” Olivier broke in. “I’ve watched you: you’re very good, and it’s not because of me.” He added proudly: “Even if I did change your diapers.”

  “Yeah, you changed my diapers and then you vanished into thin air for one heck of a long time,” Ulysses retorted.

  Olivier pretended to give Ulysses a slap on the head. “You’re feisty today!” he said, laughing.

  “He’s right,” Julia intervened, putting her arms around Olivier’s neck. “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

  Olivier and Ulysses rolled their eyes at each other, chuckling.

  “Right, sure, that’s exactly what happened, Mom. Let’s just pretend you didn’t say that!” said Ulysses, getting up to leave.

  “Wait, we haven’t finished,” Julia said, trying to catch hold of his arm.

  “I have to go. I promised my friends I’d meet them in half an hour.”

  “Your friends or your girlfriend?” Julia asked, standing up.

  “My friends. I’ll go see my girlfriend afterward.”

  Olivier headed for the door too. “Do you have your keys?”

  Ulysses shook a bunch of keys in Olivier’s face.

  “Very funny. But your mother’s not the one who gets up at midnight to let you in.”

  Julia gave Olivier a kiss on the cheek.

  “Oh! I nearly forgot. I’m taking the car, okay?”

  “The gas tank’s almost empty,” Olivier warned him.

  “Be careful, angel,” Julia added as she shut the door after him.

  Olivier and Julia looked at each other, shaking their heads.

  “It won’t do him any harm to get a bit of fresh air. He works too hard,” said Julia.

  “True, but he’ll have to stick with it if he wants to do a fellowship.”

  “Six years is a long time. Maybe he needs a break.”

  “Yes, I was thinking the same thing. I could take him with me over the holidays. He could help me out at the clinic.”

  “It wouldn’t really be a break,” Julia said, taking his hand. “I did think of getting him an internship at the institute. But on second thought . . .”

  “Aha! I see you’ve got an idea in mind.”

  “No, not really. In any case, I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

  “Go on, tell me.”

  “I think that, in a way, Ulysses is spoiled. Maybe too spoiled. We live in this beautiful house, he has everything he wants. . . .”

  “So?”

  “I was thinking he should find out how people in other countries live.”

  “Africa?”

  “No. Actually, I was thinking Argentina.”

  Olivier sank down onto the living room couch. Julia looked at him in silence, then went to make some coffee. She returned with two cups and a bar of dark chocolate. She placed everything on the side table and switched on the lamp. Olivier had his head between his hands and a serious expression on his face.

  “Listen, I hope this isn’t about your old ghosts coming back.”

  Julia stirred her coffee. “No. Not really. In fact, I just received a letter from the consulate. My visa application has finally been accepted. I can go to Argentina again.”

  “And you want to take Ulysses with you?”

  “I think I’d like him to go first. Without me.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Maybe so he can discover an Argentina that’s free of the weight of the past. He has all his cousins who would love to meet him. I’ve talked to Anna about it. She’d be thrilled to have him stay.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but it sounds like everything’s already been decided.”

  “Absolutely not. First of all I wanted your approval. And then Ulysses has to want to go.”

  —

  Olivier and Julia drove Ulysses to the airport. He left with nothing but a backpack, ignoring Julia’s pleas to take some Christmas gifts with him. He had organized a trip to Patagonia with his cousins and would be celebrating Christmas at Mama Fina’s house in Buenos Aires with Anna and Pablo, who had been living there for years, and the twins and their families, who would come to join them. It was the end of a millennium, after all, as well as his twenty-fourth birthday, and Ulysses wanted to experience it his own way.

  —

  Julia returned home feeling down.

  “It was your idea, darling. You have only yourself to blame.”

  “I know. It’s just that it’s hard to watch him go.”

  “Don’t make a big thing out of it. Two weeks is nothing. And besides, it’ll give us a chance to ring in the year 2000 as a couple.”

  She gave a faint smile and crouched down in front of the fireplace to light a fire. She tur
ned around at the sound of a cork popping. Olivier was pouring champagne with a practiced hand.

  “Might as well start celebrating right now,” he said as he approached, holding two flutes.

  “Okay. Let’s drink to our new life together.”

  “It’s taken me long enough to convince you! If Ulysses hadn’t helped me, I’d still be at it.”

  “I couldn’t before. I had to make sure I’d exhausted every possibility.”

  “Was it the letter from Amnesty International?”

  “That might have helped,” Julia said thoughtfully, sitting down on the arm of Olivier’s chair.

  The organization had mobilized a network of volunteers to champion Theo’s case, and they had proven to be very active. Scattered all over France, they took it upon themselves not only to request information from the Argentine authorities but also to demand answers from relevant international bodies. They had managed to bring the case to the attention of a number of journalists, thanks to whom the officials had taken an interest in Theo’s file, which otherwise would have been forgotten entirely.

  For her part Julia had written hundreds of letters and received an equal number of discouraging replies. She had traveled within Europe and to the United States to ask for help. Invited to participate in a number of international conferences to raise awareness of the fate of the desaparecidos, she had met high-ranking people such as Thorvald Stoltenberg, the UN high commissioner for refugees at the time, and Adolfo Pérez Esquivel. They had all tried to help her, but in vain.

  Adriana’s disappearance was extremely frustrating. Anna had never stopped trying to find her. But since she didn’t know Adriana’s alias, she had hit a brick wall. Each time she requested information she found herself at the bottom of an endless list, because there were thirty thousand other files like Adriana’s, more than fifteen thousand cases of people executed by firing squad, and one and a half million exiles, and on top of that, the person she was looking for was not even a relative of hers.

  The final letter from her Amnesty International contacts had eventually arrived. Julia put it away in her desk drawer without even opening it, locked the drawer, and went out for a walk.