Jorge had gone out. He had left me a note saying that he and María José had gone away for a few days. He would see me when he came back, he said. None of the Chileans was around the pensión or in any of the bars or cafés in the area. I presumed that they had gone to the cinema. Suddenly, I did not like being alone, and I did not know what to do.

I walked across to the Filmoteca and waited in the foyer until the film was over; I felt lighter and better when they all came out of the theater and stood there smoking. I think they knew that I was not involved in Jorge’s seduction plans. They all smiled and wanted to go for a drink. I thought that Elena looked beautiful. I wanted to hug Raúl. Nobody mentioned Jorge or María José. I had never been in that area of the city before, except in the small section around the cinema; there were tiny bars down shadowy lanes, and a maze of streets that the Chileans all seemed to know. They spoke about several bars as though they were models of art nouveau and florid decoration, but they turned out to be smoky fleapits with badly tuned televisions and old men behind the bar serving drinks to various lowlife characters. The Chileans laughed as they arrived in each bar; they knew the names of the owners and they moved around these streets with ease. I did not think it was dangerous, but it was dingy. We had a beer in each bar—the prices were incredibly low—and then we moved on. They were all slowly getting drunk, but I remained sober. The beer had no effect on me.

It was only when I began to drink brandy that I got drunk too. As we sat around bars or walked in the street I thought about Raúl all the time. I imagined him coming to our room and getting into Jorge’s bed and then, after we had talked for a long time, him slipping across to my bed. I imagined his warm skin and his lips and I kept reminding myself that I must be careful, I must not suggest anything to him. I sat close to him in one of the bars, and we talked about this area of the city, and the Barrio Chino across the Ramblas, and when he talked he always smiled, and as the night wore on, his skin seemed to grow darker and his features change so that I could see he had Indian blood in him, something I had never noticed before. I could not stop looking at him.