Back The Suicides
Chapters (8)
  1. Cover
  2. Biographical notes
  3. Title Page
  4. Dedication
  5. DAYS WEIGHED DOWN WITH DEATH
  6. Interlude with Animals
  7. TRIALS BY ORDEAL AND THE PACT
  8. TRANSLATOR’S AFTERWORD

Even so, when we’re back in her Citroën and she turns the key in the ignition and asks what we’re doing I say that I don’t know what she’s doing, but I’m going to the movies.

•

That night, seated among many others, I hurl insults at the ring. Some swishy fellow (where is he? can anyone see him?) taunts the crowd, but he’s got a retinue, whose response to “Hey pipe down! Don’t be—” is to throw things at us, anything, Coke bottles, construction debris. Which, obviously, we are not prepared to tolerate. I’m on the receiving end of four punches—the one that stuns me most is to the ear—and I deliver a few myself. After things are straightened out and everyone’s calmed down and back in his own seat, I can barely follow the ups and downs of the undercard match. Even so, I understand I have no reason to feel remorse; it wasn’t anything personal and I should be happy about the blows I gave in return.

•

Sunday I again spend a pleasurable moment with Julia. And I remember Marcela.

But with Marcela, I imagine, I’d have to start everything from the very beginning. I mean, the pursuit, some sort of pretext, some sort of formality, some sort of courtship, all the inconvenience.

By Monday the pain where the punch landed is gone. Bibi is with her Italian and not helping; Señorita Candé has let me know she’s coming in; the boss is asking about the series; and without Marcela, who hasn’t shown up yet, I go see the widow to ask for the file number and the names of the tribunal and her lawyer.

The lawyer says the whole thing is Señora Tiflis’s obsessive fantasy and the only reality is the fact that a hand was cut from the dead man’s body, which he attributes to graverobbers who steal rings from corpses.

I point out that to steal a ring you only need to sever a finger, and he acknowledges that and concedes that the story may serve some purpose for “a certain kind” of journalism. I say I don’t practice “a certain kind” of journalism and he replies, “Forgive me, I didn’t mean you. I don’t know you.” We agree on that.

I explain that my methodology is objective and that I intend to use the case file as my point of departure, if he can arrange for me to see it.