Conversation in the Cathedral (43 page)

*

“You took me by such surprise I didn’t have time to get all worked up,” Santiago said.

“The old man’s in hiding,” Sparky said, getting serious. “Popeye’s father took him to his ranch. I came to let you know.”

“In hiding?” Santiago asked. “Because of the trouble in Arequipa?”

“That bastard Bermúdez has had the house watched for a month,” Sparky said. “Plainclothesmen follow the old man night and day. Popeye had to sneak him out in his car. Well, I imagine it won’t occur to them to look for him on Arévalo’s ranch. He wanted you to know about it, in case anything happened.”

“Uncle Clodomiro told me that the old man had joined the Coalition, that he’d broken with Bermúdez,” Santiago said. “But I didn’t know that things were that serious.”

“You’ve already seen what happened in Arequipa,” Sparky said. “The Arequipans are standing firm. A general strike until Bermúdez resigns. They’re going to get him out, God damn it. Just imagine, the old man was all set to go to that rally. Arévalo talked him out of it at the last minute.”

“But I don’t understand,” Santiago said. “Did Popeye’s father break with Odría too? Isn’t he still the Odríist leader in the senate?”

“Officially, yes,” Sparky said. “But underneath he’s fed up with those shitheads too. He’s behaved very well with the old man. Better than you, Superbrain. With all the trouble the old man’s been going through this time, you still didn’t go to see him.”

“Was he sick?” Santiago asked. “Uncle Clodomiro didn’t …”

“Not sick, but with a noose around his neck,” Sparky said. “Didn’t you know that after the little trick you played on him by running away that something worse fell on him? That son of a bitch Bermúdez thought he was mixed up in Espina’s plot and set out to fuck him.”

“Oh yes, that,” Santiago said. “Uncle Clodomiro told me that he’d taken away the concession the laboratory had in the armed forces post exchanges.”

“That was nothing, the worst part was that business with the
construction
company,” Sparky said. “They haven’t given us another nickel, they stopped all pay orders and we have to keep on paying off the letters of credit. And they’ve demanded that the work continue at the same pace and threaten us with a suit for breach of contract. A war to the death against the old man, to sink him. But the old man is a fighter and he won’t give in, that’s what’s so great about him. He joined the Coalition and …”

“I’m glad the old man has turned against the government,” Santiago said. “I’m glad that you’re not an Odríist anymore too.”

“You mean you’re glad we’re heading into ruin.” Sparky smiled.

“Tell me about mama, about Teté,” Santiago said. “Uncle Clodomiro says she’s going with Popeye, is that true?”

“The one who’s happy about your running away is Uncle Clodomiro.” Sparky laughed. “With the excuse of bringing news from you, he pops by the house three times a week. Yes, she’s going with Freckle Face, they don’t keep such a tight rein on her anymore, they even let her go out to dinner with him on Saturdays. They’ll end up getting married, I
imagine
.”

“Mama must be happy,” Santiago said. “She’s been planning that match ever since Teté was born.”

“All right, now you tell me,” Sparky said, trying to appear jovial, but blushing. “When are you going to stop this foolishness, when are you coming back to live at home?”

“I’m never going back to live at home, Sparky,” Santiago said. “We’d better change the subject.”

“And why aren’t you ever going to come back to live at home?” pretending to be surprised, Zavalita, trying to make you believe he didn’t believe. “What have the folks done to you to make you not want to live with them? Stop playing the nut, man.”

“Let’s not get into a fight,” Santiago said. “Do me a favor instead. Take me to Chorrillos, I’ve got to pick up a colleague, we’re going on an assignment together.”

“I didn’t come to pick a fight with you, but nobody can figure you out,” Sparky said. “You pick up and move overnight without anyone’s having done anything to you, you don’t show your face again, you fight with everybody in the family just because you feel like it. How in hell do you think anyone could ever figure you out, damn it?”

“Don’t figure me out, just take me to Chorrillos, I’m late,” Santiago said. “You’ve got time, haven’t you?”

“O.K.,” Sparky said. “O.K., Superbrain, I’ll take you.”

He started up the motor and turned on the radio. They were giving news about the strike in Arequipa.

*

“Excuse me, I didn’t want to bother you, but I have to pick up my clothes, I’m leaving on a trip right away.” And Ludovico’s face and voice were as bitter as if it were a trip to the grave. “Hello, Amalia.”

Without looking at her, as if she were something Ludovico had seen in his room all his life, Amalia felt terribly ashamed. Ludovico had knelt down by the bed and was dragging out a suitcase. He began to put the clothes hanging from the hooks on the wall into the valise. He wasn’t even surprised to see you, stupid girl, he knew you were there, Ambrosio had probably borrowed the room in order to, it was a lie that they had to see each other, Ludovico had just happened to come by. Ambrosio seemed uncomfortable. He had sat down on the bed and was smoking while he watched Ludovico arrange his shirts and socks in the suitcase.

“They take you here, they send you there,” Ludovico was grumbling to himself. “What kind of a life is this?”

“Where are you going?” Ambrosio asked.

“Arequipa,” Ludovico muttered. “The Coalition people are going to have a demonstration against the government there and it looks like there’s going to be trouble. With those mountaineers you never know, things start off as a demonstration and end up as a revolution.”

He threw an undershirt against the suitcase and sighed, depressed. Ambrosio looked at Amalia and winked, but she looked away.

“You’re laughing, boy, because you’re sitting pretty,” Ludovico said. “You’ve already been through it and you don’t even want to remember those of us who are still on the force. I’d like to see you in my skin, Ambrosio.”

“Don’t take it like that, brother,” Ambrosio said.

“They should call you on your day off, the plane leaves at five.” He turned to look at Ambrosio and Amalia with anguish. “You don’t even know for how long or what’s going to happen there.”

“Nothing’s going to happen and you’ll get to know Arequipa,”
Ambrosio
said. “Think of it as a pleasure trip, Ludovico. Are you going with Hipólito?”

“Yes,” Ludovico said, closing the suitcase. “Oh, man, how nice it used to be when we were working for Don Cayo, as long as I live I’ll be sorry I was transferred.”

“But it’s your own fault.” Ambrosio laughed. “Didn’t you use to be complaining you didn’t have time for anything? Didn’t you and Hipólito ask to be transferred?”

“Well, make yourselves at home,” Ludovico said, and Amalia didn’t know where to look. “Keep the key. When you leave you can drop it off with Doña Carmen at the entrance.”

He gave a sad wave from the door and left. Amalia felt the rage rising all over her body, and Ambrosio, who had stood up and was coming over, stopped short when he saw the expression on her face.

“He knew I was here, he wasn’t surprised to see me.” Her eyes threatened him, her hands. “It was a lie that you were waiting for him, you borrowed the room in order to …”

“He wasn’t surprised because I told him you were my woman,”
Ambrosio
said. “Can’t I come here with my woman when I feel like it?”

“I’m not now, never was and never will be,” Amalia shouted. “You fooled me about your friend, you borrowed the …”

“Ludovico’s like a brother to me, this is like home to me,” Ambrosio said. “Don’t be silly, I can do whatever I want here.”

“He must think I haven’t got any shame, he didn’t even shake hands or look at me. He must think that …”

“He probably didn’t shake hands because he knows I’m jealous,” Ambrosio said. “He probably didn’t look at you so as not to get me mad. Don’t be silly, Amalia.”

*

A waiter appeared with a glass of water and he had to stop speaking for a few seconds. He took a drink, coughed: the government wanted to let it be known that it was pleased with everyone in Cajamarca, most
especially
the gentlemen on the Reception Committee, for their efforts to make the visit an event, and he was able to make a decision and see a chain of sudden substitutions under the curtains: but all of that would call for expenses and it wouldn’t be logical, besides the loss of time, the concern that the President’s trip should call for them to spend some money too. The silence became accentuated and he could hear the
listeners
’ suspended breathing, catch the curiosity, the suspicion in their eyes, fixed on him: she and Hortensia, she and Maclovia, she and Carmincha, she and China. He coughed again, frowned slightly: so he had
instructions
from the Ministry to put a sum of money at the disposal of the Committee to lessen their expenses and the figure of Don Remigio
Saldívar
suddenly dominated the room, she and Hortensia: just a moment, Mr. Bermúdez. Skins that got all mixed up between themselves and among the sheets and curtains, dark hair that became tangled and
disentangled
and in his mouth he felt a mass of warm saliva as thick as semen. When the Committee had been set up, the Prefect had indicated that he would put in for some help for the expenses of the reception, and Don Remigio Saldívar made a majestic and haughty gesture, and at that time we rejected the offer categorically. Murmurs of approval, a provincial and challenging pride in their faces and he opened his mouth and squinted: but bringing people from the countryside was going to cost them money, Mr. Saldívar, it was fine for them to pay for the banquet, the receptions, but not the other expenses and he heard the sounds of offense, recriminatory movements, and Don Remigio Saldívar had opened his arms arrogantly: they wouldn’t accept a cent, that was all there was to it. They were going to honor the President out of their own pockets, they’d decided unanimously, there would be more than enough with the funds they’d collected, Cajamarca didn’t need any help to pay homage to Odría, that’s all. He stood up, nodding, and the silhouettes vanished as if made of smoke: he wouldn’t insist, he didn’t want to offend them, he thanked them in the name of the President for that noble display, that generosity. But he still couldn’t leave because the waiters had rushed into the room with snacks and drinks. He mingled with the people, had an orangeade, joked and frowned. So you can get to know the people from Cajamarca, Mr. Bermúdez, and Don Remigio Saldívar brought him over to a gray-haired man with an enormous nose: Dr. Lanusa, he had ordered fifteen thousand pennants with money from his own pocket, besides making a donation to the Committee funds the same as the others, Mr. Bermúdez. And don’t think he made that gesture just so the highway would happen to pass in front of his ranch, Deputy Azpilcueta laughed. They celebrated the remark, even Dr. Lanusa laughed, oh, those Cajamarcan tongues. There’s no denying that you people do things on a grand scale, he was heard to say himself. And you’d better keep your liver in good shape, Mr. Bermúdez, he spotted the twinkling eyes of Deputy Mendieta behind a glass of beer, you’ll see how they’ll take care of you. He looked at his watch, so late already? he was sorry but he had to go. Faces, hands, good-bye, glad to have met you. Senator Heredia and Deputy Mendieta accompanied him to the stairs, there a small, heavy-bearded dark man was waiting with respectful eyes. Engineer Lama, Don Cayo, and he thought a job, a recommendation, a business deal? a member of the Reception Committee and the leading agronomist in the district, Mr. Bermúdez. How do you do, what can I do for you. A nephew, he would have to pardon him for bringing it up at a time like this, his mother was half crazy and had insisted so much that. He calmed him down by smiling, took a notebook out of his pocket, what had the young man done? They’d sent him to the University of Trujillo with great sacrifice, sir, he must have got bad counseling there, must have fallen in with bad elements, he was never involved in politics before. Fine, Engineer, he’d take care of it personally, what was the young man’s name, was he being held in Trujillo or in Lima? He went down the steps and the lights on the Paseo Colón had already gone on. Ambrosio and Ludovico were chatting and smoking by the door. They threw away their cigarettes when they saw him: to San Miguel.

*

“Take the first turn to the right,” Santiago said, pointing. “That yellow house, the old one. That’s right, here.”

He rang the bell, stuck in his head and saw Carlitos at the top of the stairs in his pajama bottoms with a towel over his shoulder: I’ll be right down, Zavalita. He went back to the car.

“If you’re in a hurry, leave me here, Sparky. We can take a taxi to Callao.
La
Crónica
pays for our transportation.”

“I’ll drive you,” Sparky said. “I suppose we’ll see each other again now, right? Teté wants to see you too. I suppose I can bring her, or would you be mad at Teté too?”

“Of course not,” Santiago said. “I’m not mad at anyone, not even at the folks. I’m going to go by and see them soon. I just want them to get used to the idea that I’m going to keep on living by myself.”

“They’re never going to get used to it and you know that very well,” Sparky said. “You’re making their life bitter. Don’t keep on with this silly scheme of yours, Superbrain.”

But he stopped talking because Carlitos was there, looking at the car in a puzzled way, Sparky’s face. Santiago opened the door for him: get in, get in, I want to introduce you to my brother, he’s going to take us. Up front, Sparky said, there was plenty of room for the three of them. He started up, following the trolley tracks, and for a while no one spoke. Sparky offered them cigarettes and Carlitos was looking at us out of the corner of his eye, he thinks, and exploring the nickel-plated dashboard, the brand-new seat covers, Sparky’s elegance.

“You didn’t even notice that the car is new,” Sparky said.