It is only now years later that it seems significant, perhaps the only sign I was ever given of what was happening all around me. I cannot remember the name of my companion that evening, the man I stood with at the window, but I have often wondered how he knew or thought he knew, or if he imagined, what the revving of the cars’ engines meant in our city at that time.

ONE FRIDAY WHEN we had finished our class, Jorge walked into the city center with me. We went into a bar together and had a beer. He asked me if I had been to England, and I said that I had not, but I had often thought about it. I would like to live there, I said, at least I think I would, even though I have no relatives there. I think that you could be free there, I said. I think people are more relaxed about things, about sex, for example. I noticed him looking up from the table at me as I spoke. I could feel my heart thumping. I was going to do it. I was ready now. Everything is easier, I said. I mean if you wanted to go to bed with another man, to have an affair with him, no one would care very much. You could do that. It would be hard to do that in Argentina. He nodded and looked away and then took a sip of his beer. He said nothing, I waited.

I mean, I said, do you know anyone here who prefers men to women, I mean a man who prefers men to women? I almost ran out of the bar as soon as I had said it. I was trying to sound casual, but I had not succeeded. I wanted him to say yes he did, and then make clear that it was himself he was talking about. Or maybe I wanted him to leave silence, leave everything suspended. You mean queers, he asked. No, he said, he did not know anybody like that. He sounded sure of himself. Most men liked women, he said, in England as much as in Argentina. And did I like women, too, he asked. I felt a terrible weight in my chest. I wanted to find some dark corner and curl up. No, I said, no, I did not.

Does anyone else know that, he asked. Does your mother know? Have you never told her? I needed to tell him how much I had wanted him, how much I had dreamed about him, how my hopes had depended on him and now things would change. But he wanted to talk about my mother. I wanted him to go and leave me there.