They went up the granite stairs to the third floor which, Argenis guessed from its height and condition, was a recent addition. It was an open studio of about 200 square meters with ceilings three meters high. “In the future, we want to open a space here for art exhibitions and cultural activities, performances, theater, et cetera,” Mar said, turning all her Cs into Spanish THs. “In the meantime you can use it for your studio, perhaps for a year and a half or so.” The Spanish woman opened the door to the bathroom, which was also new and had a shower. Argenis imagined his host naked under the water.

They went out onto a little south-facing balcony with an iron railing, from which you could see the blue strip of the Caribbean and feel the salt in the wind. On one corner of the balcony was a stack of white plastic chairs. Mar took two down without asking for help and then unwrapped a pack of Marlboro Lights she’d had in her hand the whole time. She tapped the bottom of the box before opening it and after taking one out for herself she offered one to Argenis, who – like her – was already sitting with his feet up on the railing.

Mar’s sandaled feet were white with round, baby-like nails that made you want to put them in your mouth. His, smelly and hairy, were thankfully inside suede moccasins that one of Niurka’s lovers had left behind at her place. “You’ll have to work with women who have been through it all: physical abuse, rape, psychological abuse. We will give you two weeks of training so that you’ll be able to handle any situation that comes up during class, and so that you can prepare your syllabus. Rather than an art class, think of what you’re doing as occupational therapy.”

Mar’s Catalan accent made her even more attractive, and Argenis thought of the acne-filled face of his brother as a teenager in order to avoid an erection. The idea of wrestling with the emotional ups and downs of abused women didn’t appeal to him, but after four years without even picking up a paintbrush the prospect of a fixed salary and a workspace did. There, with the ocean breeze and the company of a beautiful woman, he felt content. In many ways, a job where he could show up in shorts and sandals, and through which he could be of some help, was ideal.

Mar got up, threw her cigarette into the street, and put out her hand to seal the deal at the same instant that Argenis’s cell phone started to vibrate in his shirt pocket. He took the thing out and asked his new boss for a moment with a gesture of the eyes and hand. It was Loudón, who was expecting him at his workshop to try on the suit. When he finished speaking, Mar had already dropped her hand. She accompanied him to the first floor and said, by way of a farewell, that he should look at the institution’s web page in order to familiarize himself with it.