One Sunday they were eating a minute steak after the wrestling matches and Amalia saw that Trinidad was looking at her in a strange way: what’s wrong? Leave your aunt by herself, she was to come live with him. She pretended to be annoyed, they argued, he swore so much that he finally convinced me, Amalia told Gertrudis Lama afterward. They went to Trinidad’s place, in Mirones, and that night they had the big fight. He was very loving at first, kissing and hugging her, calling her love in a dying voice, but at dawn she saw he was pale, bags under his eyes, his mouth trembling: now tell me how many have gone through here before. Amalia only one (fool, you little fool, Gertrudis Lama told her), only the chauffeur at the house where I worked, no one else had touched her, and Ambrosio: so that his mama and papa wouldn’t catch them, son, do you think they would have liked it? Trinidad began to insult her and to insult himself for having respected her, and with a slap he knocked her to the floor. Someone knocked and opened the door, Amalia saw an old man who was saying Trinidad what’s going on, and Trinidad insulted him too and she got dressed and ran out. That morning at the laboratory the pills fell out of her fingers and she could barely talk because of the sorrow she felt. Men have their pride, Gertrudis told her, who told you to tell him, you should have denied it, silly, denied it. But he’ll forgive you, she consoled her, he’ll come looking for you, and she I hate him, I wouldn’t make up with him even if I were dead, and Ambrosio but later they had a fight, son, Amalia went her way and even had her love affairs there, and Santiago of course with an Aprista, and Ambrosio only much later and just by chance they’d run into each other again. That afternoon, when she went back to Limoncillo, her aunt called her bad and inconsiderate, she didn’t believe she’d slept over at a girl friend’s, you’ll be a fallen woman and the next time you don’t come home to sleep I’ll throw you out. She spent a few days without any appetite and was depressed, nights awake when it never dawned, and one night when she left the laboratory she saw Trinidad at the streetcar stop. He got on with her, and Amalia didn’t look at him but she felt hot listening to him speak. Stupid, she thought, you love him. He asked her to forgive him and she I’ll never forgive you, especially since she had pleased him by going to his place, and he let’s forget the past, love, don’t be proud. In Limoncillo he tried to hug her and she pushed him away, threatening him with the police. They talked, they struggled, Amalia gave in and on the usual corner he, sighing, I got drunk every day since that night, Amalia, love had been stronger than pride, Amalia. She sneaked her things out of her aunt’s, they got to Mirones at nightfall, holding hands. In the alley Amalia saw the old man who had come into the room and Trinidad introduced him to Amalia: my girl friend. Don Atanasio. That same night he wanted Amalia to quit work: was he a cripple, couldn’t he earn enough for the two of them? She would cook for him, wash his clothes, and later on take care of the children. Congratulations, Engineer Carrillo said to Amalia, I’ll tell Don Fermín that you’re going to get married. Gertrudis embraced her with wet eyes, I’m sorry to see you go but I’m happy for you. And how did you know that the fellow Amalia was living with was an Aprista, son? He’ll take good care of you, Gertrudis predicted, he won’t cheat on you. Because Amalia had come to the house twice to ask the old man to get the Aprista out of jail, Ambrosio.
Trinidad was jolly, loving, Amalia thought what Gertrudis told me is coming true. With just what he earned the two of them couldn’t go to the stadium so Trinidad went by himself, but on Sunday nights they went to the movies together. Amalia became friends with Señora Rosario, a washerwoman with a lot of children who lived on the alley and was very nice. She helped her wrap packages and sometimes Don Atanasio came to talk to them, he sold lottery tickets, was a drinker and knew all about the life and miracles of the section. Trinidad would get back to Mirones around seven o’clock, she would have dinner ready, one day I think I’m pregnant, love. You threw the noose around my neck and now you’re pulling it tight, Trinidad said, I hope it’s a boy, they’ll think he’s your brother, he’ll have such a young little mother. Those months, Amalia would think later, were the best of my life. She would always remember the movies they saw and the walks they took downtown and along the beach, the times they ate fried pork rinds beside the Rímac, and the Amancaes Festival they went to with Señora Rosario. Soon there would be a raise, Trinidad said, it’ll be good for us, and Ambrosio that textile worker died too: died, oh yes? Yes, half crazy, Amalia thought from some beatings he’d been given during the Odría days. But there was no raise, they said there was a recession, Trinidad got home in a bad mood because those bastards were talking about a strike now. Those union bastards, he cursed, those scabs who get paid by the government. They got elected with the help of informers and now they’re talking strike. Nothing would happen to them, but he was on file and they’d say the Aprista is the agitator. And indeed there was a strike and the next day Don Atanasio came running into the house: a patrol car stopped at the door and they took Trinidad away. Amalia went to the police station with Señora Rosario. Ask here, ask there, they didn’t know any Trinidad López. She borrowed bus fare from Señora Rosario and went to Miraflores. When she got to the house she didn’t dare ring, he’ll probably answer the door. She was walking back and forth in front of the door and suddenly she saw him. A face of surprise, of happiness, and when he saw her pregnant of fury. Aha, aha, he pointed at her belly, aha, aha. I haven’t come to see you, Amalia began to cry, let me in. Is it true that you hooked up with somebody at the textile factory, Ambrosio said, that the child you’re expecting is his? She went into the house and left him talking alone. She waited in the garden, looking at the row of geraniums, the tiled fountain, her room in back, she felt sad, her knees were shaking. With her eyes foggy she saw someone come out, how are you young Santiago, hello Amalia. He was taller, more of a man, still so thin. I came to visit you people here, but, child, what happened to your head? He took off his beret, he had short fuzz and was very ugly. They’d shaved his head, that’s how they baptize people who have just got into the university, except that in his case it was taking a long time to grow back. And then Amalia began to weep, that Don Fermín who was so good should help me again, her husband, who hadn’t done anything, had been put in jail for no reason, God will repay him, child. Don Fermín came out in his dressing gown, calm down, girl, what’s the matter. Young Santiago told him and she didn’t do anything, Don Fermín, he wasn’t an Aprista, he likes soccer, until Don Fermín laughed: wait, wait, let’s see. He went to make a phone call, it took a while, Amalia felt all worked up at being back in the house, at having seen Ambrosio, at what was happening to Trinidad. It’s all set, Don Fermín said, tell him not to get mixed up in any more trouble. She tried to kiss his hand and Don Fermín said easy, girl, everything can be fixed up except death. Amalia spent the afternoon with Señora Zoila and young Teté. How beautiful she was, such big eyes, and the Señora made her stay for lunch and when she left, for you to buy something for your child, she gave her forty soles.
The next day Trinidad appeared in Mirones. Furious, those scabs had thrown the ball to him, cursing as Amalia had never heard him before, they’d accused him of a thousand things, because of those mother buckets they’d beaten him up again. Fists, rubber hoses so he’d tell them he didn’t know what or who. He was more angry with the union scabs than with the informers: when APRA comes to power those bastards will see, the ones who sold out to Odría will see. You’re not on the roster anymore they told him at the textile mill, they fired you for leaving your work. If I complain to the union I already know where they’ll send me, Trinidad said, and if I go to the Ministry I know where they’ll send me. You’re wasting your time cursing the scabs, Amalia said, it would be better if you looked for a job. When he began to make the rounds of factories, the recession was still on they said, and they were living off loans, and suddenly Amalia realized that Trinidad was telling more lies than ever: and what did Amalia die of, Ambrosio? He would leave at eight o’clock in the morning and come back a h
alf hour later and fall onto the bed, he’d walked all over Lima looking for work, he was dead. And Amalia: but you just left and here you are back again. And Ambrosio: from an operation, son, And he: they had him on file, the scabs had passed on the information, they looked at him as if he had the plague, he’d never find work. And Amalia: forget about scabs and go look for work, they were going to starve to death. I can’t, he said, I’m sick, and she what are you sick with? Trinidad stuck his finger down his throat until he gagged and vomited: how could he look for work if he was sick? Amalia went back to Miraflores, wept to Señora Zoila, the mistress spoke to Don Fermín and the master to young Sparky tell Carrillo to take her back. When she told him that they had taken her back at the lab, Trinidad began to look at the ceiling. You’re proud, what’s wrong with my working until you get well, aren’t you sick? How much had they paid you to humiliate me now that I’m down? Trinidad asked.
Gertrudis Lama was happy to see her back at the laboratory, and the woman in charge you’ve got it pretty good, you can put a job on and take it off like a skirt. During the first few days she dropped the pills and the bottles rolled away on her, but within a week she had her skills back. You have to take him to the doctor, Señora Rosario told her, can’t you see that all he does is rave all day long? Not true, he only goes off at mealtime or when the subject of work comes up, afterward he’s just the way he used to be. When he finished eating he would stick his finger down his throat until he vomited, and then I’m sick, love. But if Amalia paid no attention to him and cleaned up the vomit as if nothing had happened, in a little while he would forget about his illness and how were things at the lab and he even teased and petted her. It’ll pass, Amalia thought, prayed, wept secretly, it’s going to be the way it was before. But it didn’t pass and instead he took to going out the door into the alley and shouting scab at passers-by. He tried to tackle them, put wrestling locks on them, and he’s so thin that they bring him back to me all bloody, Amalia told Gertrudis. One night he vomited without sticking his finger down his throat. He turned pale and the next day Amalia took him to the Workers’ Hospital. Neuralgia, the doctor told her, he should take a couple of spoonfuls every time he has a headache and from then on Trinidad spent the day saying my head is splitting. He took the medicine and nausea. Playing at getting sick so much has made you sick, Amalia scolded him. He became haughty, grouchy, mocked everything and they could barely hold a conversation anymore. When he saw her return from work, what, you haven’t left me yet? and what about the little girl? Santiago asks. He ended up lying on the bed, if I move I don’t feel well, or chatting with Don Atanasio, and he hadn’t asked about his child again. If Amalia said to him I’m getting fatter or it’s moving now, he looked at her as if he didn’t know what she was talking about. He scarcely ate, because of the vomiting. Amalia would steal paper bags from the laboratory and ask him vomit in here, not on the floor, and he, on the contrary, would open his mouth over the table or the bed, and with a sticky voice, if it disgusts you so much go ahead and leave: she’d stayed in Pucallpa, son. But afterward he repented, I’m sorry, love, I’ve got a bad case, bear with me a little while because I’m going to die. They went to the movies on occasion. Amalia tried to get him into good spirits by getting him to go to the stadium, but he clutched his head: no, he was sick. He got as thin as a stray dog, his pants with the fly he didn’t close drooped down his legs, he no longer asked Amalia cut my hair the way he used to, and why had he left her in Pucallpa? aren’t you disappointed in a man who gives up without a fight after the first fall and acts crazy and lets his wife support him? Gertrudis asked her. Just the opposite, when she saw him turned into a rag she loved him all the more. She thought about him all the time, she felt that the world was coming to an end when she heard him spout nonsense, when he stripped her, pulling off her clothes in the darkness, she felt dizzy. A lady who had become friendly with Amalia volunteered to bring her up, son. Trinidad’s headaches disappeared and came back, came and went again, and she never knew whether they were real or inventions or exaggerations. And besides, Ambrosio had got into some trouble and had to beat it out of Pucallpa. Only the vomiting never went away. It’s your fault, Amalia said to him, and he the scabs’ fault, love, he wasn’t going to lie to her.
One day Amalia found Señora Rosario at the entrance to the alley, her hands on her hips, her eyes like hot coals: he’d shut himself up with Celeste, he’d tried to take advantage of her, he only opened the door when I threatened to call a patrol car. Amalia found Trinidad feeling sorry for himself, Señora Rosario had a dirty mind, calling the police when she knew they had his name on file, perverse, what did he care about dumpy Celeste, he’d only wanted to play a trick on her. Shameless, ingrate, Amalia insulted him, kept man, crazy, and finally she threw a shoe at him. He let her shout and wave her hands without protesting. That night he threw himself to the floor clutching his head and Amalia and Don Atanasio dragged him to the street and got him into a taxi. At the emergency ward they gave him an injection. They slowly returned to Mirones, Trinidad in the middle, stopping to rest at every block. They put him to bed and before he fell asleep Trinidad made her cry: leave me, she shouldn’t waste her life on him, he was finished, find someone who suits you better. The little girl’s name was Amalita Hortensia and she must be five or six by now, son.
One day when she got back from the laboratory, she found Trinidad jumping up and down: our troubles are over, he’d found a job. He hugged her, pinched her, he looked happy. But what about your sickness, Amalia said astounded, and he it’s gone, I’m cured. He had met his comrade Pedro Flores on the street, he told her, an Aprista with whom he’d been in jail on Frontón, and when Trinidad told him what was going on Pedro come with me, and he took him to Callao, introduced him to some comrades, and that very afternoon he had a job in a furniture store. You see, Amalia, that’s what comrades were like, he felt like an Aprista right down to his bones, long live Víctor Raúl. He wouldn’t make very much, but what difference did that make since it was good for his morale. Trinidad left very early but he got back before Amalia did. His mood was better, my head doesn’t ache as much, his comrades had taken him to a doctor who didn’t charge anything and gave him some injections and you see, Amalia, he told her, the party takes care of me, it’s my family. Pedro Flores never came to Mirones, but Trinidad went out many nights to meet him and Amalia was jealous, do you think I could cheat on you after you’ve helped me so much? Trinidad laughed, I swear that I’m going to underground meetings with my comrades. Don’t get mixed up in politics, Amalia told him, the next time they’ll kill you. He stopped talking about the scabs, but the vomiting continued. On many afternoons she found him lying on the bed, his eyes sunken and with no desire to eat. One night when he’d gone out to a meeting, Don Atanasio came and told Amalia come and took her to the corner. There was Trinidad, all alone, sitting on the curb, smoking. Amalia watched him and when Trinidad came back to the alley how did it go? and he fine, he argued a lot. She thought: another woman. But why was he so loving, then? After the first week of work he waited for Amalia before opening his pay envelope, let’s buy something for Señora Rosario so she’ll get over her annoyance, they picked out some perfume for her, and then what should I buy you, love? It would be better to pay the rent, Amalia told him, but he wanted to spend that money on her, love. Amalita for her mother, and Hortensia for a lady where Amalia had worked, son, one she liked a lot and who died too: of course after what you did you have to leave here, you poor devil, Don Fermín said. You were my salvation, Trinidad told her, tell me what you want. And then Amalia let’s go to the movies. They saw a picture with Libertad Lamarque, sad, a story like theirs. Amalia came out sighing and Trinidad you’re very sentimental, love, you’re a good woman. They were joking and once more he remembered the child and touched her belly, nice and fat. Señora Rosario started to weep over the perfume and told Trinidad you didn’t know what you were doing, hug me. The next Sunday Trinidad let’s go see your aunt, she’d make
up with Amalia when she found out about the child. They went to Limoncillo and Trinidad went in first and then the aunt came out with open arms to call Amalia. They stayed to eat with her and Amalia thought the bad’s all gone, everything’s patched up. She felt very heavy now, Gertrudis Lama and other friends at the laboratory were sewing clothes for the baby.
The day that Trinidad disappeared, Amalia had gone to the doctor’s with Gertrudis. She got back to Mirones late and Trinidad wasn’t there, dawn came and he hadn’t come, and around ten in the morning a taxi stopped in the alley and a fellow got out asking for Amalia: I want to talk to you alone, it was Pedro Flores. He had her get into the taxi and she what’s happened to my husband, and he he’s in jail. It’s your fault, Amalia shouted, and he looked at her as if she were mad, you fixed things for him to get into politics, and Pedro Flores me, in politics? He hadn’t got mixed up and he never would get mixed up in politics because he hated politics, ma’am, and instead that big nut of a Trinidad could have got him involved in a big mess last night. And he told her: they were coming back from a little party in Barranco and when they went by the Colombian Embassy Trinidad stop for a minute, I’ve got to get out, Pedro Flores thought he was going to urinate, but he got out of the taxi and started shouting scabs, long live APRA, Víctor Raúl, and when he started up in fright he saw that the cops were all over Trinidad. It’s your fault, Amalia was weeping, APRA is to blame, they’re going to beat him up. What was the matter with her, what are you talking about: Pedro Flores wasn’t an Aprista and Trinidad had never been an Aprista either, I know only too well because we’re cousins, they’d been raised together in Victoria, we were born in the same house, ma’am. That’s a lie, he was born in Pacasmayo, Amalia whimpered, and Pedro Flores who made you believe that story. And he swore to her: he was born in Lima and he’s never left it and he was never mixed up in politics, except that once they arrested him by mistake or for some reason during Odría’s revolution, and when he got out of jail he got the crazy idea of passing himself off as a northerner and an Aprista. She should go to the police station, tell them that he was drunk and half out of his mind, they’ll turn him loose. He left her in the alley and Señora Rosario went with her to Miraflores to weep to Don Fermín. He wasn’t at the station house, Don Fermín said after telephoning, she should come back tomorrow, he’d find out. But the following morning a boy came into the alley: Trinidad López was in San Juan de Dios, ma’am. At the hospital they sent Amalia and Señora Rosario from one ward to another, until an old nun with the stubble of a man’s beard ah yes, and began to counsel Amalia. She had to resign herself. God has taken your husband away, and while Amalia was weeping to Señora Rosario they told her that they’d found him early that morning by the hospital door, that he’d died of a stroke.
Conversation in the Cathedral Page 10