And then Gaspar felt something that he would remember for years to come, but didn’t know how to name: a blood transfusion, hot water in his veins, images he didn’t see with his eyes. He saw himself sleeping with his father in a bed with white sheets, beside a fan. And before, when he was very little, a baby, lying on his father’s chest while he read a book at an impossible angle so as not to wake him. The backseat of a car. The sound of the waterfalls. Swimming. His parents dancing beside a record player. A black light in the night, a woman with no lips, his mother in an orange shirt playing with him in a garden, his father talking in a dark room, the geometrical sketches in the notebooks and the memory of a damp house with people all around, stains on the ceiling and his father beside him shaking his head no. The smell of gasoline and laughter in the water. And above all, along with the images, that heat in his whole body that made him lunge at his father, beat him with his fists. His father made no move to stop him and Gaspar tried to punch his eyes, scratch his cheeks, until he got tired. And when he got tired, he dropped on to the floor and looked up at the ceiling, at the lamp that was swaying as if moved by a current of air from an open window. I wish it could have been different, he heard.

“People who love each other don’t hurt each other,” said Gaspar.

“That’s not true,” replied Juan. “I hurt you to save you.”

“Are you crazy?”

“It’s possible that to you I’m crazy, but it’s too late for you to understand and I don’t want you to understand, son. I’m prepared for you to hate me. I would like to die and leave you with a good memory of me, but that’s not possible, and, I think, it’s for the best.”

“I don’t hate you,” sighed Gaspar. “But I’m afraid of you. Why did you cut me? Tell me the truth. You made me drink your blood, Dad.”

“It was necessary. Every step was necessary in order for you to be protected.”

“From who, Dad? You’re the only one I need protection from! What if I tell someone? You could go to jail for hurting me like that, this isn’t the same as smacking me around.”

“I’m also prepared for you to turn me in.”

“You just lied to Lidia.”

“I could tell them the truth. I don’t care.”

Gaspar sat up. How long had he been there, on the floor, beside his father? Hours? His arm was hurting terribly.

“We always took care of each other. I took care of you all this time. You shouldn’t have done this.”

“I’m going to keep taking care of you. Wait,” said Juan, and he gently touched the hand of Gaspar’s wounded arm. “Don’t be afraid of me, there’s no need to be afraid of me anymore.”