Hearing those people confirmed me in my decision to study at the National, although the truth was, I didn’t really have much choice. Los Andes was out of reach, as was the Xavierian.
Plus, I’d be close to Juana.
At midnight, after a few whiskeys and a joint, a woman named Tania came up to me and asked me to dance. She whispered in my ear: are you Juana’s brother? I didn’t know you were so young and handsome. We danced for a while, she clung to me as soon as we took the first step, kissed me on the mouth, sucked my ear, and said, well, darling, shall we fuck? I’d heard people say that kind of thing in movies, so I said, nervously, yes, of course.
We went to one of the bedrooms on the second floor and without needing any words she opened my fly and started sucking my cock. She had a piercing in her tongue and she rubbed it hard against my glans. Then she took off her clothes, sat down on a hassock, and moved her thong aside. We fucked and it was really great, she made me feel as if it wasn’t the first time. She had experience, she moved well, and she knew how to guide me. Thanks to that, I didn’t come in the first thirty seconds, but by the time we had finished I was another person. She got upset because she couldn’t find her bra, then she wanted to light a cigarette and the lighter didn’t work. In the end she found her clothes, dressed with her back to me, and then snorted a line of coke through each nostril. I asked her for her phone number, but she didn’t even reply. Suddenly she looked at me, as if surprised to see me still there, and said, are you planning to sleep here or what? Then something happened that made the atmosphere even tenser than it already was: bending to look for her huge Dr. Martens boots, she let out a loud and unmistakable fart. Not vaginal wind, but a classic fart. A fart that resounded through the room, and really annoyed her, although she didn’t even say “sorry” or “it just came out.” I asked her for her phone number again, but she said:
Look, there’s no point our seeing each other again. I have a boyfriend, a really great Spanish guy who’s traveling right now. I’m thirty-two years old, I’m not going to get involved with a child.
With those words she left the room, through which a sharp, foul-smelling wind was already blowing.
I felt very sick and didn’t know what to do.
She left me alone in that stinking room that suddenly seemed like the saddest, most squalid place in the world. I searched for my clothes and got dressed. Then I opened the window and breathed in the clean night air. From some star or from the mountains there came a voice that said: get used to losing everything. I was puzzled. It sounded like a phrase of Edgar’s, the kind he invented without it coming from his guts, for the pure pleasure of combining sounds. Then I thought it sounded more like Paulo Coelho and I decided to erase it.
I walked downstairs and went back to the party.
Seeing me, Juana came up to me, well? did you like it? I told her it had been great, and so as not to hurt me she said, Tania wanted to fuck you as soon as she saw you. She’s the one you have to thank. I hugged her and said, let’s dance, let’s forget this, teach me some more steps.
12
I woke up at nine, somewhat the worse for wear after that mixture of drinks the night before, but a couple of aspirins with Alka-Seltzer and a furtive swig of gin revived me.
I ran down and took a taxi opposite the hotel, with the lawyer’s address in my hand, but very soon fell into the paralyzing hydra of the traffic, the great ill of Asian cities. Or of modern cities. You go so slowly that the road fills with intruders.
My head heated up again and the pain returned.
I got to the address with two minutes to spare. Teresa was waiting for me on the street outside the building.
“Thanks for coming and for being punctual,” I said, giving her a kiss. “How do you feel?”
“A bit rough, to be honest,” she said with a smile, “but it’ll soon pass. It’s been a while since I had Cuba Libres and tequila one after the other. It was worth it.”
I did mention that I’d give my life to postpone the appointment and have a Bloody Mary, which at that hour of the morning has the virtue of grabbing hold of your body, messing it up, and putting it back together again without any of the pieces missing.
The lawyer was an elderly man of about seventy. His venerable appearance seemed like a good sign.
“Sit down, welcome.”
He made a gesture with his hand and a second later a servant appeared with a tray. Cold water, an orange-colored soda, tea, and coffee. Biscuits and pistachios. I missed something more aggressive in terms of alcohol content. I grabbed a coffee and a glass of water. Teresa did the same.
“Good,” the man said, “I don’t suppose you’ll be upset to know that this morning, first thing, I myself called the prosecutor and asked for a copy of the report on your compatriot Manuel Manrique. You should know that the prosecutor was my pupil at university and has great respect for me. There’s nothing illegal about that. I told him that I’d be dealing with the case and that you’d be coming to see me later.”
That struck me as an excellent omen. I told him that I was grateful, that I had a mandate from the Ministry to hire him as of now. We were convinced of Manrique’s innocence. I suggested trying to find previous cases in which the accused had been the victim of an injustice.
“Don’t worry, Consul,” he said. “I know what you’re thinking, and I’ll tell you something: you’re not on the wrong track in any way. This very day I’ll begin to put together a solid number of cases. In addition, and this too is, let’s say, somewhat privileged information, I know that the police are hot on the heels of a network of amphetamine traffickers from Burma. It may even be that between now and the trial we’ll have some good news.”
I told him I had to go back to Delhi that weekend, but it was only Wednesday. In any event I would be dealing with the case and would be coming frequently.
We signed documents, he gave me his particulars, and, just as I was about to get up, he gently held me back by the arm.
“Go and see the young man,” he said, “it’ll do him good. I’ll make sure they respect him in Bangkwang and don’t mistreat him, but it’s good that you see him regularly. These little things make all the difference. The prison warden is merely a functionary who wants to do well by his country. This kingdom may appear small but it’s big, Consul. The eyes of the king cannot reach into all corners.”
“I’ll go see him tomorrow,” I said. “Today I have to ask the prosecutor for authorization.”
“Don’t worry about that,” the lawyer said. “I’ll make sure that nobody stops you going in. Go tomorrow about ten, I’ll arrange everything.”
We left after reading, sealing, and signing an interminable series of documents that the lawyer would send by courier to the embassy in Delhi just a few minutes later. Then he let me use his telephone and I called Olympia. I asked her to make sure that as soon as the documents arrived they were passed on to Bogotá by diplomatic baggage.
By the time we left, it was almost noon, and we saw a sign on the other side of the avenue: Lobster’s Bar, Wine & Cocktails.
I said to Teresa, “Let me buy you a soda, or whatever you like. It’s just midnight in Colombia and I’m dying for a Bloody Mary.”
But Teresa said, “Oh, yes, Mr. Consul, and what time do you think it is in Mexico?”
We had two Bloody Marys each, to which she added a Singha beer. I looked at her in silence, but she hastened to say:
“Don’t make that face, my rule is not to drink before twelve o’clock, and look, we’re past that. Some people wait until two in the afternoon, but there are times when that’s simply not realistic. Right, I’m off to the embassy, let’s talk later. Call me.”