“There are a lot of boxes because there are a lot of vainas,” she replied.
Forcás wanted to know what else there was aside from the passports, and she explained that there was microfilm and money, dollars.
“I thought it was only passports,” he said. “I had no idea about the rest. Why would they send all that with one messenger? It’s crazy.”
“I did what I was told without asking questions. In fact, I was told not to ask questions.”
“You’re right, it’s not your fault.”
“That would be the icing on the cake, if it were my fault.”
“True, true, the noose is tight around our necks. But what balls, those sons of bitches comrades in Madrid, they were making you walk the plank, sending you with all that.”
“Are you sure that’s how my father spoke?” Mateo asked. “With that accent and those exact words.”
“Yeah, well, something like that. I don’t know how to do the Argentinean accent.”
“It’s all right, go on. But maybe just do his part in a normal accent. It sounds a little forced the way you’re doing it.”
“I’ll do it however I want, kiddo, don’t pressure me. Besides, it’s almost over. Or do you want to leave the story there?”
“I want you to finish, but without an accent.”
Aurelia asked Forcás if they had not told him that she would be bringing all this and he said that they had talked over the phone with Europe but that he hadn’t quite understood everything — there were so many codes to throw off the enemy that they were themselves thrown off.
“And that’s how the first story ends, Mateo. Nothing else happened,” his mother said. “We couldn’t linger there because of all the ravioli and dollars in our possession. We had to go. The best thing was for each of us to go our own way as soon as possible. But it was evident that both of us wanted to stay, we felt good together, more than good, I imagine we were both already half in love.”
“Already?”
“Well, let’s just say we were hooked. Chemistry, they call it. Chemistry, what else? Because when it comes down to it, we had barely talked. Some flirtatious gestures, a tap on the shoulder, a graze of the knees, a goodbye kiss, a few minutes chatting about contraband, goodbye again, a kiss again, ciao, ciao again, ciao, for real this time.”
“You go first,” Forcás suggested when it was no longer possible to prolong their goodbyes, and she went for her wallet to pay for her tea and his coffee.
“Don’t even think about it. Put that away, nena.” There he went with the nena again, but this time it didn’t irk her as much. “You evince yourself if you pay, sorry. You have to let the man pay at these meetings.”
“Evince?”
“Make evident, betray yourself.”
Aurelia was almost at the door leading out to Rivadavia when she turned around and walked back toward the table where Forcás was still seated.
“I forgot to tell you that the microfilm is in the bottom of the shoe box,” she whispered in his ear, taking a last whiff of that rich sheep smell, and he grabbed her by the arm as she was about to go. “Can I see you next week?”
“All right, stop, Lolé,” Mateo said. “I want you to explain to me why you fell in love with Forcás. Was it his pretty hair, his wide shoulders, the wool smell?”
“What a question! Let’s see. First, because he was a party member. At that time, I would have never fallen in love with someone who wasn’t.”
“So you liked him because he was a laborer?”
“He wasn’t a laborer.”
“From the country, then.”
“Originally from the country. But that wasn’t a social class that we cared much about, we favored the industrial laborers. As you know, the muzhiks betrayed the October Revolution.”
“What?”
“Nothing, never mind. Second, I liked that he was the complete opposite of any boyfriend that Papaíto would have wanted for me. And third, pure old-fashioned attraction, I guess.”
“Sexual?”
“Yes, but he also seemed like a very interesting guy.”
“Did he seem like he would be a good father?” Mateo aimed the question point-blank and it caught his mother off guard. She felt embarrassed to have gone on about such trivialities, such dreadful tomfoolery. She remained silent for a moment because she did not know how to respond, anything she said would have been inadequate.
“A good father? No, Mateo, I didn’t think to ask myself that. I didn’t even ask myself if he was a good man.”
21
IT’S A LOVE LETTER, Dr. Haddad had said after reading the pages that Ramón left her at the beginning of the dark episode. A love letter? Lorenza was enraged. How the fuck is that a love letter? He took away my son, that’s not a love letter. She would not even bother to discuss the matter with this Dr. Heart. They commit the vilest imaginable act against you, the most treacherous, and that’s a love letter? It announces that you will never see your son again, your two-year-old baby, that creature from your entrails, and that’s a love letter? He steals a child using false papers, forging your own signature, even having tricked you into packing his suitcase, and that’s a love letter? All the psychiatrists in the world were famous for dishing mountains of shit and this Dr. Heart was the worst of all. Lorenza turned to scram out of there, leaving Mamaíta to say goodbye and thank the man for his time.
“Did you read it, Lorenza?” She came to a complete standstill. For a moment she couldn’t move from the door, as if she were making up her mind whether to leave or come back in, and apparently she opted for the second option because she turned around, found a chair in front of the doctor, and sat down. She thought he looked like a cricket, and the cricket was challenging her with his gaze.
“No. Not the whole thing,” she replied. “The first paragraph, that’s all. I am not going to read the rest of it.”
“That’s fine,” Haddad said, and there was an imperceptible triumphant shift of tone in his voice, as if the fish had bitten and all he had to do was hook it. “It’s better that way. Don’t read it. But I have read it, in between the lines.”
“In the actual lines it says that I will never see my child again. What does it say in between the lines?”
“This man doesn’t want to take your son from you, Lorenza. This man just wants you back.”
She did not have to ask him to repeat himself to realize that he had just inspired her to have a revelation. Finally something concrete, something to hold on to! A trail, a light, a possibility. The haze of anguish that had dulled her thoughts day and night lifted in one swoop. After speaking with so many people who had offered nothing, someone had said something worth listening to. Lorenza took a deep breath. She was being offered a path that would lead her to her son. She straightened up in the chair, like a marionette whose strings are pulled, and examined the doctor at length. He was a small man with big hands. Bald. Thin. Prominent nose. Definitely Arab, even in his Western clothes. Although it was a Sunday, he was not dressed informally. On the contrary, his suit, his tie, and white shirt were strictly formal, one could say impeccable. But there was something in his demeanor that was plain, dry, and angular, and it was that, plus the big dark eyes and the bald head, that reminded her of a cricket. Lorenza’s voice was very different when she asked Haddad to please repeat and elaborate on what he had said.