It was only when I put the phone down that I remembered Pablo. I tried to phone him at his father’s office, but I was sure that the voice which spoke was Jorge’s and I put the receiver down without saying anything. I telephoned the house later in the evening and spoke to his mother. I tried to disguise my voice, and I think I succeeded, but she told me that Pablo was not there. I wondered where he was and then I stopped wondering and dressed to go to dinner in Susan’s house. The other guests at the dinner seemed to be people in Menem’s entourage whom Donald and Susan thought it proper to entertain. Charles was also there. Susan, he said, had spent all week asking him how it had gone between us on the date she had arranged. He had told her, he said, that it went well. Donald came up to fill our glasses and slapped us both on the back, as though he were offering us his seal of approval. Susan neither ignored Jorge nor spoke to him too much. She behaved perfectly toward him, every look, every gesture, every phrase carefully worked out. Nobody could have guessed that they were having an affair, unless they watched me observing them both uneasily. As we were leaving I asked her quietly what time she would visit the apartment in the afternoon, and she said that it would be three or later. That was fine, I realized. Pablo was due to come at two. If he arrived late, I thought, I would wait for him in the street. I knew that I would have to tell him about Susan and Jorge.

I enjoyed waking early that Saturday morning, sitting in the bar downstairs having my breakfast, reading the paper. I bought some new shirts and a new pair of jeans. I even thought about buying a new suit. There were other things Pablo had suggested that I needed to buy: an espresso machine for the kitchen, a machine to squeeze orange juice, a tray to make ice cubes, new lampshades, new sheets, a duvet, new pillows. I moved around the city center making purchases, preparing for this new life I was going to have.

When he arrived that day, we went for lunch to a restaurant on Corrientes. We got a table in the corner and there I told him the story of Susan and Jorge. He was amazed.

“My mother thinks that he’s about to get married. He’s been going out with this girl, Teresa. In fact, he is still going out with her, he sees her all the time. I’m sure that they are planning to get married. He must be screwing the American on the side.”

“Jorge has always had a lot of energy,” I said.

“No, Jorge always loves fooling everybody.”

“And what about you?” I asked.