Breakfast in Bogota

by Helen Young

  ‘Just go,’ he said.

  ‘In truth, señor, my nephew has a young lady coming to tea. I’d rather like to be there before she is.’ She stood staring at them both long after she’d finished talking.

  ‘Goodnight then,’ he said.

  ‘Goodnight, Telma,’ Felisa said.

  Luke waited until he was sure she had gone.

  ‘And will you see Camilo tonight?’ he asked.

  ‘What is the matter with you, Luke?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He sighed and sunk lower in his chair. ‘He’s been on my mind lately. You did a good job today, on the designs. Thank you.’

  ‘Luke,’ she said, coming across the room towards him. ‘I need to tell you that I’ve broken ties with him.’ She took a deep breath. ‘He hasn’t been a good friend to me. I see that now.’

  ‘Really? Do you think that’s why he won’t see me?’

  ‘He won’t?’

  ‘It would make sense,’ Luke said. ‘He’s crazy about you. My god, that must be it.’

  ‘He’s not in love with me, Luke.’

  ‘Of course he is. Did you tell him about us?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Come back with me tonight.’

  ‘Don’t you want to know what he said?’

  ‘I don’t know if I do.’

  ‘He said he didn’t believe me. That I was infatuated with you. That it would pass and he would wait for me when it did.’

  ‘He’s infatuated with you.’

  ‘Then I’m glad it’s over.’ Felisa leaned down and put her arms around him.

  ‘Are you really?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘Yes, I am.’

  On the way across town, they picked up a meal from a cantina. They passed the El Tiempo building and Luke could tell she was thinking about Camilo then. He was thinking about him too. Although he could still see lights on the building’s upper floors, it seemed empty somehow, as though something had been taken from it and couldn’t be put back. He put it from his mind. He put Camilo from his mind. Felisa had chosen him. He wouldn’t let Karl, or even Gaitán, a man he didn’t know but had briefly set out to defend, come between them. They stopped on the corner of Santander Park where Luke dipped into the Hotel Regina and paid an extortionate price for a bottle of champagne. By the time they’d reached the apartment, they were ravenous. Luke tore off the paper wrappings from the bundles of food and Felisa went into the kitchen for plates and glasses. Luke remembered the wireless and wound through the stations until he found one playing jazz and tango. They sat side by side and made their way through the rice and beans that Felisa said was the food of the workers. It was delicious. She laughed, sipping at her champagne, saying they went together surprisingly well.

  After they’d finished, Luke rose and went in search of a copy of Camilo’s article. He found it where he’d left it on top of a pile of old magazines. He brought it over to the light and held it up.

  ‘Does this look real to you?’

  ‘What?’ she asked.

  ‘It is real, I told them it was.’

  ‘It’s as real as me, or that table there,’ she said, laughing.

  The wireless crackled and then a beautiful violin filled the room.

  ‘Luke, it’s Volver,’ she said.

  ‘You like Carlos Gardel?’

  ‘You know it?’

  Luke put the paper down. It was probably the champagne that made him put out his hand. Felisa took it, rising from the table. He led her towards the space in the living room and turned up the wireless before taking her other hand in his. They moved along with the slow tango, self-consciously at first but then relaxing into it. The song hadn’t finished before the power cut. Not just the wireless, but the lights too, so that they were pitched into darkness. Outside on the street, he could tell that others had come out of their apartments to investigate. He could hear them cursing – the husbands and wives – and thought Felisa could too. That everyday world belonged to a parallel night.

  ‘Do you know what it means – volver?’ she said, her breath hot against his sleeve.

  ‘To return,’ Luke replied. He lifted her off her feet and carried her into the bedroom.

  *

  He woke up to the sound of someone screaming. Felisa was there, shaking him – trying to bring him back. She looked terrified.

  ‘Luke, what is it?’

  There was no one else there – no one at all. Felisa rose and left the room. She returned with a glass of water and handed it to him.

  ‘What did you dream?’ she asked, climbing back into bed.

  ‘It’s always the same,’ he said, swallowing.

  ‘But it will be the first time I hear it.’

  Luke turned to her.

  ‘Cities burning,’ he said, ‘the ones I told you about in the photographs, and the people, I can’t save them. I don’t even try.’

  ‘It’s not your fault, remember?’

  ‘Yes, but I wasn’t there. So many of my friends were brave enough to fight; my own brother, even her.’

  ‘Catherine, again?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry. I just can’t…’

  ‘You still love her.’

  ‘No. And she never loved me, Felisa. There was someone else.’

  ‘Someone for her?’

  ‘She told me that. The last time I saw her, before she left for the last time. I’ve seen him too. At least part of his arm in a photograph. I’m sure it’s him.’

  ‘They’re ghosts, Luke,’ Felisa said. ‘We’re real. We’re here.’

  ‘We are,’ he said. ‘I know that. I want you to know that this is different.’

  ‘Shall I tell you something?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you remember I didn’t want you to put the photograph into the figure at the lake?’

  ‘You got very upset.’

  ‘It was because of what I wrote down. What I asked the goddess for.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘You.’

  34

  Last night, he’d talked and Felisa had listened. They stayed up into the early hours. He told her everything he could about himself, wanting to give her the best chance of loving him. He’d woken late and alone. Felisa had left a note to say she would meet him at the office, that there was no need to give Telma the best gossip of her life, not yet. The first thing Luke did when he rose was to call the offices of El Tiempo. This time he didn’t bother with a phony name. They still claimed they hadn’t heard of Camilo. He remembered afterwards that he still had the museum opening to go to. Camilo had given him the ticket. He would see him then. Even if he was still upset about Felisa, Luke would say what he had to say about Gaitán and leave. He’d promised Karl that much.

  Luke dropped into the Café Windsor on Seventh as he often did on his way into the office. He found a table and lit a cigarette.

  ‘That will kill you.’

  He recognised the voice but couldn’t place the man. He turned.

  ‘Señor Osorio?’

  ‘May I join you?’

  ‘Of course,’ Luke said, offering the chair opposite. He needed to act normal. Luke scanned the rest of the room. It could be that it was a chance encounter, Osorio finding him here, but perhaps not.

  ‘You come here?’

  Osorio shrugged. ‘Sometimes I like to sit at the bar. To watch the world go by alongside the next man.’

  ‘I’ve never seen you.’

  ‘No, well, it’s fortunate perhaps.’ Osorio coughed. ‘The smoke, but please, continue.’

  Luke took a deep draw and then stubbed it out. ‘Fortunate for me, actually.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Have you seen Karl?’

  ‘Karl?’

  ‘He came to see me a couple of days ago.’

  ‘Did he?’ Osorio’s eyes gave nothing away. ‘And may I ask what about?’

  ‘Nothing important,’ Luke said.

  ‘Yet you are worried about him?’

  ‘Should I be?’

&nb
sp; Osorio sighed. ‘I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but perhaps you already know. Yes, I think you do know. Karl is bankrupt.’

  ‘Bankrupt?’

  ‘He’s put his name to enough debt to chase him out of town. He’s left his wife, you know.’

  ‘He can’t blame her?’

  ‘His wife?’ Osorio laughed. ‘Oh no, Luke. Liquor and women, the former coming at a greater cost than the latter, you understand. He’s run up huge bills he can’t pay back with all the clubs in town.’

  ‘I don’t believe it. That’s not what he told me.’

  ‘Oh? Why not question him yourself?’

  ‘I can’t find him. His secretary said he’d left.’ Luke felt hot and uncomfortable. ‘He seemed so genuine. Afraid, actually.’

  ‘As would you if you knew the men he owed. He’ll do anything to help himself. It’s better if you forget Karl Draper, we’ve too much to do here.’ Osorio finished his coffee and rose. ‘One last thing, and I ask this as a friend: you didn’t give him any money, did you?’

  Luke took the side streets back to his office. It felt like those first few months, when he hadn’t known which way the streetcars ran – feeling out of sorts with the city and his place in it. Had Karl been lying? He had given him all that cash. And he’d almost told Camilo. He had been going to tell him tonight, in fact. He didn’t know what to think. It was easier to believe Karl’s excess. He’d experienced that first-hand.

  When he arrived, Telma and Felisa were hard at work and barely registered his presence.

  ‘New instructions from the mayor’s office,’ Felisa said, not looking up.

  ‘New? That’s good,’ Luke said. So, things were fine. The designs were safe and corrections were rolling in as they should.

  The three of them worked on all morning and he wondered how Felisa could do it, being in the same room as him. He couldn’t focus at all with her sitting there. As lunch approached Luke rose and went to her side. He’d tried to forget the events of the last two days. He was going to murder Karl before anyone else did if they ever met again. Felisa worked on. The sketch in front of her was new. She wasn’t working on the city plans at all.

  ‘What’s that?’ he asked.

  ‘The new work,’ she said, looking up. ‘I told you when you came in.’

  She sat back so that Luke could lift the page free.

  ‘I know this place,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, it’s Señor Osorio’s hacienda. You know, Camilo’s uncle.’

  He looked again at the sheet. It was the hacienda, but the building had been extended by Felisa’s hand so that it had grown a new wing. It was now double the size. He handed it back to her.

  ‘No doubt the money from the work for the city stretched further than anyone imagined,’ she said.

  ‘And it came via the mayor’s office?’

  ‘That’s what Telma said.’

  ‘I see.’

  Luke went back to his desk. So now he was Osorio’s man in every respect? Part of him wished he’d had the guts to leave like Karl. After this, they couldn’t keep him here. He wasn’t designing houses for all of them.

  Some time around one, Telma went out to collect lunch for the three of them. It felt as though she’d never leave. When she did, Felisa was the first one to rise. She wiped the ink from her hands and came across the room.

  ‘I still haven’t decided what we’re to do after this,’ he said, pulling her onto his lap.

  ‘After this?’

  ‘It’s just this business with Osorio’s hacienda. He has me where he wants me.’

  ‘There’s more, isn’t there? Tell me, Luke.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Even if I make you?’ she asked, pinching him gently.

  ‘It’s better if you don’t know.’

  She nodded. They stayed like that for some time, enjoying the quiet that bound them.

  ‘How do you feel about Europe?’ he asked.

  ‘London?’ Her eyes widened, as if every fantastic thing had been invited to pass before them.

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘I don’t have any papers.’

  ‘If you’re my wife you won’t need them.’

  Felisa looked at him. He’d just said it and felt stunned too. They kissed, and it was as if they were back in the apartment, with Gardel on the wireless. They didn’t hear when the front door opened below, nor the person on the stairs, nor moments later when Telma burst into the room.

  ‘Gaitán is dead,’ she said.

  Felisa tried to rise and Luke too. She hadn’t heard, but he had.

  ‘How?’ he asked.

  ‘He’s been shot,’ Telma said, breathless. ‘Save us all – Gaitán has been shot!’

  ‘What?’ Felisa rose. ‘I don’t believe you. What are you saying? What’s she saying, Luke?’

  ‘She says he’s dead.’

  ‘No, he isn’t.’ Felisa backed away from them, towards the door. ‘She’s lying!’

  He stepped towards her. ‘It isn’t safe, Felisa. We need to stay here.’

  ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘Why are you so calm?’

  ‘Please, Felisa.’ He edged closer.

  ‘I’m sorry, Luke, I can’t!’

  She ran from the room. He heard her on the stairs, and then silence. Telma began to cry and then to wail. He guided her to a chair and then sat down himself. He had to think. Karl was right – Karl knew, and he had told him. Luke had known and had done nothing.

  ‘It’s true,’ Felisa said, coming back into the room. ‘I heard it from a man below. They’ve got him.’

  ‘Who?’ he asked.

  ‘Gaitán, didn’t you hear?’ She let out a cry so raw it pinned him to the spot. She cried out again and he went over to comfort her. He held her tight in the hope of containing anything else that might pour out and drown them both.

  35

  There wasn’t a wireless in the office and so Luke told them to stay where they were. He fetched whisky and made the two women sit with a drink apiece, saying he’d be back shortly. He went down the stairs and out into the afternoon light. He ran towards the main square. It was how Karl had said it would be. Gaitán was dead.

  Luke wasn’t alone. Everyone was running in the direction of the old town or towards Seventh Avenue, he couldn’t be sure. That’s when he saw them. A small group of men with weapons – wooden batons and machetes – moving slowly before the cathedral. They were dragging something – Luke couldn’t see what from where he stood. He crossed the street and reached the centre of the square, pausing beside the statue of Bolívar. From there he had a better view. The number in the group was growing – men and women together – heading in the direction of the presidential palace behind the Capitolio. The delegation must still be running inside, he thought, looking up at the flags of the nations dotting the skyline. Something told him to stay back, to not let himself be seen, and so from behind the stone plinth he tried to see what it was they were dragging. At first sight it could have been rags or a large dog, but then he recognised a leg, and then another, followed by two arms. The body of a man, almost naked, was being dragged by the feet across the hard stone. A boy of about fifteen ran past Luke and right up to the body. Luke watched him lift his boot and, without fear, bring it down on the head. The group cried out. Luke turned and headed back towards his office.

  ‘It’s probably best if you go home,’ he said. ‘It’s not safe here.’

  The two women hadn’t moved since he’d left them. Telma was up before he had finished speaking, but Felisa just sat there.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ she said again.

  ‘Telma, shall I arrange a car for you?’

  She seemed unsettled by this and fumbled with the buttons of her coat. ‘I’ll be fine, señor.’ She put her arm on his and looked down at Felisa. ‘Will you make sure she is?’

  Luke nodded. She took up her handbag, looked between them and left.

  ‘He’s dead,’ Felisa cried, burying her head in her h
ands after Telma had gone.

  ‘He might not be,’ Luke said, thinking again of the faceless figure in the street. ‘We’ll go back to mine,’ he said, taking hold of her. ‘We shouldn’t stay here.’

  Felisa rose and seemed to snap out of her misery long enough to find her coat.

  ‘Did you see where Camilo went?’ he asked her. She shook her head and he wished he hadn’t said anything because she started crying again. ‘Let’s go.’

  When they reached the square together, Felisa stopped.

  ‘Look,’ she said.

  Across from them the mob had grown and was screaming for the president now, demanding his resignation. They were trying to break through the official army barricade that protected the Capitolio and the presidential buildings beyond the square.

  ‘They’re calling “Fuera Ospina!”’ Felisa shouted.

  ‘Ospina out?’

  Felisa stepped forward. ‘Has the president killed Gaitán?’

  ‘Come away,’ he said, guiding her towards Eighth Avenue instead.

  They walked fast, passing people heading in the opposite direction. Some of them were too preoccupied by what was going on around them to make it to the square and had turned their attention to the storefronts full of expensive goods. He shielded Felisa as a window was punched through. The store’s cash register exploded onto the pavement at their feet. They were almost caught up by the hands and feet that stamped most of the contents to shreds before it could be claimed. Luke made them walk in the street, preferring this to the pavement, as it became obvious that each of the storefronts had met the same fate. Suits, cashmere and silver were thrown from the windows. Some of it was salvageable, some was not. It didn’t matter; it was all piled up for the taking. Felisa let go of his hand and went towards something shiny that had sailed before them moments before. She picked it up from the gutter and handed it to him. It was a silver shoehorn. Luke threw it to one side and led her onwards.

  It was amazing how quickly it took hold. Further down the street they stopped again. The American Embassy was the first building they saw burning. Felisa had left his side to ask a passer-by what had happened to Gaitán. The man had an armful of silk shirts and didn’t linger long but she got what information she needed and almost fell into Luke’s arms when she came back over.