The Time of the Hero

by Mario Vargas Llosa

  But instead of releasing him, the cadet gripped him harder; then he sang:

  With what sharp pangs

  My ovary is torn,

  Because of the little one

  Soon to be born.

  The smaller cadet laughed.

  “Are you going to let go?”

  “No. First tell me if they’re the same.”

  “That isn’t fair,” the smaller one said. “You’re telling him what to say.”

  “Yes, they’re the same,” Alberto shouted and yanked himself free. As he walked away, the two boys remained where they were, arguing. He hurried toward the officers’ quarters, skirted them, and was only ten yards from the infirmary. But he could hardly distinguish its outline, and the doors and windows were all hidden by the fog. There was no one in the entry, nor in the little guard room. He went up to the second floor, taking the stairs two at a time. There was a man in a white apron near the doorway. He had a newspaper in his hands but he was not reading it; he was staring at the wall with a sinister look.

  “Get out of here, Cadet,” he said, straightening up. “It’s off limits.”

  “I want to see Cadet Arana.”

  “No,” the man growled. “Nobody can see Cadet Arana. Nobody.”

  “But it’s important,” Alberto said. “Please. Or let me talk to the doctor on duty.”

  “I’m the doctor on duty.”

  “You’re lying. You’re an attendant. I want to talk with the doctor.”

  “I don’t like your attitude,” the man said. He had let the newspaper fall to the floor.

  “If you won’t call the doctor, I’m going in to look for him,” Alberto said. “I’m going in whether you like it or not.”

  “What’s the matter with you, Cadet? Are you crazy?”

  “You bastard, call the doctor!” Alberto shouted. “Goddamn it, call the doctor!”

  “This Academy’s nothing but a bunch of savages,” the man said. He got up and went down the corridor. The walls had been painted white, perhaps recently, but the dampness had already stained them with big gray patches. A few moments later the attendant returned with a tall, thin man with glasses.

  “What do you want, Cadet?”

  “I want to see Cadet Arana, Doctor.”

  “You can’t,” the doctor said with a helpless gesture. “Didn’t the soldier tell you you can’t come up here? They could punish you for this.”

  “I came here three times yesterday,” Alberto said. “The soldier wouldn’t let me in. But he isn’t here today. Please, Doctor, let me see him, even if it’s just for a minute.”

  “I’m very sorry, but it isn’t up to me. You know what the rules are like. Cadet Arana can’t have any visitors, nobody can see him. Is he a relative of yours?”

  “No,” Alberto said. “But I’ve got to talk with him. It’s very important.”

  The doctor put his hand on his shoulder and looked at him sympathetically. “Cadet Arana can’t talk with anyone. He’s still unconscious. But don’t worry, he’ll be all right. Now get out of here, please. Don’t make me call an officer.”

  “Can I see him if I bring an order from the captain?”

  “No,” the doctor said. “Only with an order from the colonel.”

  I waited for her three or four times a week outside her school, but she didn’t always come past me. My mother got used to eating lunch alone, though I don’t know if she really believed I was going to a friend’s house. But anyway it was better for her not to have me there, because that way she spent less on food. Sometimes when I did come home for lunch she’d give me a disgusted look and ask me, “Aren’t you going to Chucuito today?” What I really wanted was to wait for her every day, but they wouldn’t let me out early at the 2nd of May school. It was easy to sneak away on Mondays, we had physical education on Mondays and after recess I’d just hide behind a pillar until the class went away with the instructor, Señor Zapata, and then I’d walk out the front gate. Señor Zapata was a boxing champion in his day, but after he got old he didn’t like to work and never even called the roll. He’d take us out to the playing field and say, “All right, get up a soccer game, it’s good exercise for your legs. But don’t go too far away.” Then he’d sit down on the grass and read a magazine. I couldn’t get out early on Tuesdays because the mathematics teacher knew all of us by name, but on Wednesdays it was easy again because we had art and music and the teacher, Señor Cigüeña, lived on the moon or somewhere-anyway, he didn’t live in this world. I could get out the back way during the eleven o’clock recess and catch a streetcar half a block from the school.

  Skinny Higueras kept on giving me money. He always waited for me in the Bellavista Plaza, and invited me to have a drink and a cigarette while he talked about my brother, about girls, about everything. “You’re a man now,” he told me, “one hundred percent.” Sometimes he gave me money before I asked him for it. He didn’t give me very much, fifty centavos or a sol, but it was enough for the fare. I’d go to the 2nd of May Plaza, walk down Alfonso Ugarte Avenue to her school, and wait for her as usual in the corner store. Sometimes she came over to me and said, “You got out early again today?” and then she started talking about something else and so did I. She’s very intelligent, I thought, she changes the subject so I won’t feel embarrassed. We walked toward her relatives’ house, about eight blocks away, and I always made sure we walked slowly, either by taking short steps or by stopping to look in the store windows, but it never took us longer than half an hour. We talked about the same things: what happened in our schools that morning, what we’d be studying that afternoon, what the exams’d be like and whether we’d pass them. I knew all the girls in her class by their names and she knew the names and nicknames of my friends and my teachers; she also knew the jokes about all the best-known students at the 2nd of May. One day I thought of telling her, “Last night I dreamed we grew up and got married.” I felt sure she’d ask me a lot of questions, so I made up all sorts of answers that’d keep the conversation going. The next day, while we were walking down Arica Avenue, I suddenly told her, “You know, last night I dreamed that…” “What about? What did you dream?” she asked me. And I only said, “I dreamed that both of us passed our exams.” “I just hope your dream comes true,” she said.

  While I was with her we always came across some of the students from the La Salle in their light brown uniforms, and that was another topic of conversation. “They’re fairies,” I told her. “They’d look sick at the 2nd of May. Look at their white faces, you’d think they came from the Academy of the Marian Brothers in Callao, that’s where they play soccer like little girls, if they get kicked they start yelling for their mothers, just look at their faces.” She laughed and I went on talking about them, but finally I couldn’t think of anything else to say and I told myself, We’re almost there. The thing that really made me nervous was the idea that she’d get bored at hearing me talk about the same things all the time, but then I remembered how she kept repeating things and I didn’t get bored. Like when she’d tell me twice or even three times about the picture she and her aunt saw on Monday. We were talking about the movies when I finally got up the courage to tell her something serious. She asked me if I’d seen some picture, I forget which one. I said no, and she asked me, “Don’t you ever go to the movies?” “Now and then,” I told her, “but last year I used to go every week. With a couple of friends from the 2nd of May. We could get in free at the Sáenz Peña on Wednesdays because one of my friends had a cousin who was a city cop and when he was on duty there he let us go up to the balcony without any tickets. We waited till the lights went out, then we went downstairs and got better seats. We just had to jump over the rail.” “But didn’t they catch you?” she asked me. “Sure they did,” I said, “but they couldn’t kick us out. I told you my friend’s cousin was a cop.” She asked me, “Why don’t you go with them any more?” “They go on Thursdays now,” I said, “because the cop’s day on duty there was changed.” “And you don�
��t go with them?” she asked me, and without even thinking I said, “I’d rather go to your house and be with you.” Then I realized what I’d said and I stopped talking. It got worse, too, because she gave me a very serious look, and I thought, Now I’ve made her mad. So I said, “Maybe I’ll go with them one of these weeks. To tell the truth, though, I don’t care very much about the movies.” Then I began to talk about something else, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the look I’d seen on her face, a look that was different from any I’d seen before, as if she’d guessed everything I was thinking but didn’t dare say to her.

  One day Skinny Higueras gave me a sol and a half. “So you can buy cigarettes,” he told me, “or get drunk if you’re having girl trouble.” The next day I was walking with her along Arica Avenue, near the Brenda movie theater, and we happened to stop in front of a bakeshop window. There were some chocolate pastries on display, and she said, “How delicious they look!” I remembered the money I had in my pocket, and I’ve hardly ever felt so happy. I said, “Wait here, I’ve got a sol, I’m going to buy one of those,” and she said, “No, don’t waste your money, I was only joking,” but I went in and asked the clerk for one of those pastries. I was so excited I didn’t even wait for my change, but the clerk was honest, he caught up with me and said, “You forgot your change. Here.” When I gave her the pastry, she told me, “But it isn’t all for me. We’ll go halves.” I didn’t want to and I tried to convince her I didn’t feel hungry, but she insisted and finally she told me, “At least take a bite,” then she reached out and put it to my mouth. I took a bite and she laughed. “You’ve got it all over your face,” she said, “what an idiot I am, it’s my fault, I’ll clean it off.” She raised her other hand and brought it up to my face. I stood still and my smile froze when I felt her touching me, I didn’t dare breathe when she ran her fingers over my mouth, my lips would’ve moved and she would’ve realized I wanted to kiss her hand. “There,” she said, and we went on walking toward La Salle without saying a word, I was dazed by what had just happened and I was sure she’d gone slow when she ran her fingers over my mouth, or that she’d done it several times, and I told myself, Perhaps she did it on purpose.

  Besides, it wasn’t Skimpy that brought the fleas in. I think she got the fleas from the Academy, that is, from the peasants. One time those bastards Curly and the Jaguar went and put a whole bunch of lice on the poor thing. The Jaguar came back from someplace or other, probably one of the pigsties in the first block on Huatica Street, with some enormous lice on him. He picked them off and had them walking around on the floor of the latrine, they were big as ants, and Curly said, “Why don’t we put them on somebody?” and Skimpy was there watching, that’s the kind of luck she has. So they put them on her. Curly held her by the neck when she started kicking and the Jaguar put them on with both hands. Then they both got excited and the Jaguar shouted, “I’ve still got tons of them, who’ll we initiate?” and Curly shouted, “The Slave!” I went with them. He was asleep. I remember how I grabbed his head and covered his eyes, and Curly held his legs. The Jaguar put the lice in his hair, and I said, “Be careful, damn it, you’re getting them on my sleeves.” If I’d known that what’s happened to the guy was going to happen, I don’t think I’d’ve grabbed his head that time, and I wouldn’t’ve bullied him so much. But I don’t think he had any trouble getting rid of the lice. It was Skimpy they almost ate alive. She lost almost all of her hair and she kept rubbing herself against the walls, she looked like one of those mangy dogs you see in the slums, her whole body was one big sore. It must’ve hurt a lot, she never stopped rubbing herself against the walls, especially the barracks walls because they’re rough cement. Her back looked like the Peruvian flag, red and white, white and red, plaster and blood. So then the Jaguar said, “If we put some pepper on her, she’ll start talking like a human being,” and he told me, “Boa, go swipe some peppers from the kitchen.” I went there and one of the cooks gave me several hot peppers. We ground them up with a stone on the tile floor, and the peasant Cava said, “Faster, faster.” Then the Jaguar said, “Grab her and hold her, I’m going to cure her.” He was right, she almost did talk. She jumped all around and squirmed like a snake and Christ what howls she let out. The noncom Morte was startled by the noise and came in to see what was happening, and when he saw the way Skimpy was jumping around he laughed till he had tears in his eyes and he said, “What crazy bastards, what crazy bastards.” But the funny thing is, it cured her just like that, her hair grew out, I think she even gained a little weight. I’m sure she thought I helped put the pepper on her to cure her, animals aren’t very intelligent and God knows how she got that idea into her head. But from that day on, she followed me around all the time. She’d get between my feet during drill so I could hardly march, and she’d lie under my chair in the mess hall and wag her tail if I threw her some scraps. She’d wait for me outside the door of the classroom building, and when she saw me come out for recess she’d greet me by nuzzling my legs. At night she’d climb up on my bed and try to lap my face. I used to have fun hitting her. She’d go away but she’d always come back again, sizing me up with her eyes, are you going to hit me this time or not, I’ll get a little closer, I’d better move back, are you going to kick me this time, she was really smart. And everybody began making fun of me, they said, “You’re sleeping with her, you animal,” but that was a lie because I still didn’t even have any idea of screwing a dog. At first I got mad at the way she always tagged after me, but sometimes I’d scratch her head, without thinking anything about it, and I found out how much she enjoyed it. She’d get on top of me at night and keep moving around and I couldn’t get to sleep, so I’d put my hand on the back of her neck and scratch her a little. Then she’d keep still. When they heard her moving around, everybody made fun of me, “That’s enough, Boa, leave the poor thing alone, you’re going to strangle her,” come here, you bitch, this is what you want, isn’t it, I’ll scratch your head and your belly. Then she’d lie there as still as stone, but I could feel how she was trembling with happiness, and if I stopped scratching her for even a second she jumped up and even in the darkness I could see she’d opened her mouth and was showing me those white teeth of hers. I don’t know why dogs have such white teeth but they all do, I’ve never seen a dog with a black tooth and I don’t remember hearing of a dog that lost a tooth or that got a cavity and had to have the tooth pulled out. That’s a funny thing about dogs, and another one is, they don’t sleep. I thought it was only Skimpy that didn’t sleep, but later somebody told me all dogs are the same, they stay awake all night. At first it used to make me nervous, it even scared me a little, the moment I opened my eyes I’d see her there looking at me and sometimes I couldn’t get to sleep because I was thinking about how she spent the night beside me without closing her eyes. It’d make anybody nervous to realize he was being spied on, even if it was only by a dog that didn’t understand anything. Though sometimes she seemed to understand.

  Alberto turned around and walked down the stairs. A middle-aged man was coming up them. His face was haggard and his eyes were filled with anxiety.

  “Señor,” Alberto said.

  The man had already passed him. He stopped and turned to look at him.

  “Excuse me,” Alberto said, “but are you a relative of Cadet Ricardo Arana?”

  The man looked at him closely, as if attempting to place him. “I’m his father,” he said. “Why?”

  Alberto walked back up a couple of steps. Their eyes were on the same level. Arana’s father was still peering at him intently. There were dark circles under his eyes, revealing his worry and his lack of sleep.

  “Can you tell me how Arana is?” Alberto asked.

  “I can’t see him,” the man said in a hoarse voice. “They won’t let anybody in. Not even his own parents. They haven’t got any right to do that. Are you a friend of his?”

  “We’re in the same section,” Alberto said. “They wouldn’t let me in either.”


  The man nodded. He seemed completely crushed. He had not shaved for several days, his shirt collar was wrinkled and soiled, and his tie had slipped to one side. The knot in his tie was ridiculously small.

  “I could only catch a glimpse of him,” he said. “From the doorway. They shouldn’t do that to us.”

  “How is he?” Alberto asked. “What did the doctor tell you?”

  The man raised his hand and ran the back of it across his lips. “I don’t know,” he said. “They’ve operated on him twice. His mother’s almost crazy. I can’t figure out how it could happen. And just when he was going to graduate. Only God can save him now. His mother’s praying in the chapel. The doctor says he might let us see him tonight.”

  “He’ll be okay,” Alberto said. “The Academy’s doctors are the best there are, Señor.”

  “Yes,” the man said, “yes, I know. The captain tells us the chances are very good. He’s a very friendly sort of person. I think his name is Garrido. He even brought us the colonel’s very best wishes.” He brushed his mouth with his hand again, then fished in his pockets and brought out a pack of cigarettes. He offered one to Alberto, who refused it with a thank you. Then he fished in his pockets again but could not find any matches.

  “Wait a minute,” Alberto said, “I’ll go get you a light.”

  “I’ll go with you,” the man said. “I don’t have to sit here two days in a row with nobody to talk to. I’m a nervous wreck. I hope to God it all comes out all right.”

  They left the infirmary. There was a soldier on guard in the little room near the entrance. He looked surprised when he saw Alberto, and leaned forward in his chair, but then decided not to say anything. Outside, it was dark by now. Alberto led the way across the open field in the direction of “La Perlita.” They could see the lights in the distant barracks. There was no sound whatsoever.

  “Were you with him when it happened?” the man asked.