Diving Board, page 2
* * *
I was riding my aunt’s bike when I saw Luisa walking down the street. It was sweltering out and she was very pale. She leaned back as she walked, like she was afraid of falling flat on her face. She had on the ice cream shop’s hat and apron. There was a pimple on her forehead and she was covered in sweat. She’d been sent home. An impertinence, she said.
I walked her there. She lived less than ten blocks from my aunt’s. When she opened the door, I heard a television. Is Daddy home? I asked. My dad’s dead, she said and gave me a strange look. Then she opened her mouth and pointed to her belly. Oh, the baby’s dad. She laughed and shook her head. There isn’t one, I live alone. I leave the TV on because I don’t like the house to be silent when I get home. Come in, make yourself some mate, grab anything you like from the fridge, I have to go to the bathroom. I asked her if she needed help. She raised a hand and shook her head. No, best keep your distance.
The kitchen faced an inner patio with a dirt floor. I opened the door to let in a bit of sun, made some mate, and sat down to read until Luisa came out of the bathroom. She wore a housecoat and her hair was wet. The colour had returned to her cheeks. Should you see a doctor or something? I asked. No, she said. It’s the heat, my blood pressure drops.
I told her to sit down and I made a salad with what she had in the fridge. Tomatoes, celery, a cucumber, an apple, some cheese. She talked about people we’d gone to school with who I hardly remembered. I got their names and faces mixed up. Some had moved to Buenos Aires or Rosario. Others had stayed. A kid named Martín Alfonso had committed suicide at fifteen, drowning himself in the lake. Another named Lucas Urruti was some famous musician. I told her his name didn’t sound familiar and she said he’d changed it, but she didn’t know to what. Urruti sounds bad and it’s hard to say. She tried to hum the chorus of a song that was apparently always on the radio, but I hadn’t heard it.
I washed the dishes and we went to her bedroom so she could lie down for a while. She asked me to sit next to her. I rested my back against the pillows and closed my eyes. When I opened them, almost an hour had passed. Luisa was sitting there, her stomach bare, drawing circles around her belly button with her index finger. She looked at me. It’s going to be a girl, she said. I blinked a few times and got up slowly. My mouth was dry. Her name’s going to be Clara, or Ana, or Laura. I’m not sure. I like names that end in an a.
* * *
Aunt Julia was making dinner when I got back. To get from the front door to the kitchen, you had to walk sideways between a table and a pile of chairs. She wanted to know where I’d been. With a girl from elementary school, I told her. Who? she asked. Luisa, I said. I can’t remember her last name. My aunt knew who she was. Pellegrini, the one who’s pregnant. I nodded and a look of regret came over her face. Poor girl. Her boyfriend died in a motorcycle accident and two days later she found out she was pregnant. Oh, I had no idea, I said. And on top of that she has to work at the ice cream shop. At the ice cream shop? My aunt dropped the knife she was using to chop onions. It fell blade first, bounced next to her baby toe, and landed flat on the floor. She looked at it and raised her eyes. Yeah, at the ice cream shop, I said. Why? No reason, she answered. It’s just that I’ve never seen her there. But it doesn’t matter, I was only asking.
Mom was reading in a lawn chair under one of the lanterns in the garden. I looked at her through the window. It was a dark night and the lantern didn’t give off much light. She was surrounded by a weak glow that blurred at the edges and disappeared into the thick darkness. It would have been a good photo. That girl’s very attractive, said my aunt. What? I asked. Pellegrini. Luisa. She’s very attractive, she could have done something with her life. People that attractive always do well.
* * *
I plugged in my cellphone. There were six missed calls from Dad and one from my sister. I bummed a cigarette from my aunt and went out to the sidewalk. I talked to him first. He had a cough, apparently because of the air conditioning at the hotel. It was always running and his room was freezing. I asked why he didn’t go back to the apartment, at least until they sold it. Because it’s your mother’s, he said. He didn’t want to owe anyone any favours. He planned to rent a place but was working at a friend’s restaurant that had just opened, getting paid under the table. I have the money, I can show it to them, he said. I don’t know what more they want. Then, pretending he didn’t care, he added, I’m not going to ask how your mother is. I’m not interested. Mom’s fine, I said, don’t worry.
Are she and your aunt getting along? That’s a different story, I admitted. They can’t be alone together for more than two minutes. But they’ll get used to it. Or maybe Mom will change her mind and find somewhere else. Or Aunt Julia will kick her out. Whichever comes first. Dad coughed. You should go see a doctor, I told him. No, honey. It’s just allergies. I’ll call in a couple of days.
My sister was at the movies. What is it? she whispered. You called, I said. Someone whistled in the background. She wanted to know how Mom was, told me to be quick. There was another whistle, murmurs. She’s fine, I said. I mean, she doesn’t seem that bad. What about her and Aunt Julia? Your cell, ma’am, said a man’s voice very close to the phone. Ma’am? she asked. Leave me alone and watch the movie, sweetheart, the man said. I told her to call me back later. No, hold on, she said. Tell me what’s going on. I told her they weren’t talking, that they barely looked at each other. I don’t know why Mom came, I said. Well, they’re sisters, eventually they’ll see eye to eye… That was all she got in before the whistles blocked out her voice. Shit, I’ll call you back. Fucking crazies, I heard her yell before she hung up.
* * *
The next day I stopped by the ice cream shop. Luisa wasn’t there so I went to her house. She opened the door, her hair a mess, looking half asleep, and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Her lips were freezing. I’m feeling better now but I didn’t sleep all night. I wasn’t in the mood to go to work. Those shits pay me by the day, they don’t care if I show up. One of them takes the shift and they save themselves a few pesos while they’re at it. When I have María, or Juana, I’ll stop working for a while. I have enough money saved up for about six months, maybe a bit longer. And the good thing is that I inherited this place. After that I’ll see.
We said nothing for a bit. Then she told me the story about her boyfriend, who hadn’t actually been her boyfriend but some guy from town she fucked every so often. He skidded on his motorcycle going around a curve on a rainy day. I was four or five weeks pregnant, she said. The idiot wasn’t wearing a helmet and split his head in half. She looked pissed. I didn’t even like him that much. I mean he was hot and fun to hang with sometimes, but he was kind of dumb. He spent all day working on his bike, polishing it. Then he went and got me pregnant and cracked his head on the pavement—what the fuck for?
What about you? she asked. Me? There’s no one, I said. She looked me in the eye then. For a second at first, something meaningless. But maybe fifteen seconds passed, or forty. And then more. Her lower lip trembled, bright red, as though it were painted on her pale skin.
* * *
Mom and Aunt Julia were waiting for me to have dinner. After we ate, I tried to move the china cabinet again, but it wouldn’t budge. We need a man, I said. Aunt Julia cleared the table and washed everything in silence. Mom didn’t take her eyes off her sister. I read in the dining room, afraid they’d go at each other.
After a while, Aunt Julia went to bed. As soon as we heard the door shut, Mom burst into tears. I made her some tea and sat down with her, but she didn’t stop crying. I tried to talk, which did nothing other than make me nervous, so I picked up my books, got on the bike, and left.
* * *
Luisa took my hand and put it on her belly. I resisted a little but eventually gave in and touched her taut skin with my fingertips. The baby inside her moved, kicked gently. Mariana, Agustina, Matilda. Or Mariela, she said, looking me in the eye. We were in bed. We’d left the window open to let in the breeze. The floral curtains ballooned in the wind and the air smelled of wet earth. With the palm of my hand, I felt her breasts, cupped them. They were hard.
We woke late, it was almost noon. It had rained all night and now it was cold. I stretched out a hand to grab the sheets tangled around our legs. I covered her belly and we stayed in bed a little longer. Your breath smells like death, I said after a while. She laughed and went to brush her teeth.
* * *
Mom asked me what my plans were, how long I was going to stay. She was worried about my work. If they need me, they’ll call, Mom. For now, they’ll be fine. We ran this year’s main campaign last month and we’re still promoting it. They don’t need me to send emails or hand out flyers at rallies, I said, pissed. She nodded.
I called my sister and asked her how Dad was. No clue, she answered, I haven’t seen him in a couple of weeks, maybe more. What are you still doing there? When are you coming back? I don’t know and you don’t care, I told her. Have you seen anyone from school? Yeah, a girl from elementary school. Luisa Pellegrini.
Luisa… I don’t remember her. Is she cute? She is, I admitted. My sister laughed: You’re such a slut. I didn’t say anything, unsure whether to smile or be angry. It was awkward, she always put me in these situations. You know I’m not okay with that word, I said. For sure not the way you use it. Besides, if either of us is a slut, it’s clearly not me. Okay, don’t be mad, she said. You haven’t seen Nicolás Villegas, have you? Is he still as hot as he used to be? No, I said. And he was never hot.
* * *
I stopped by Luisa’s work and sat down at one of the tables to have an ice cream and read. After a while, I saw Aunt Julia walk into the hotel across the street. She’d wrapped a scarf around her head and had on black sunglasses. But it was her. I sat there reading and chatting with Luisa. About two hours later I saw Aunt Julia on the other side of the hotel’s glass door. She was looking at us. When she saw me raise my head, she hid. I turned around and asked Luisa to tell me if a woman wearing a scarf ran out of the hotel. Thirty seconds passed. There she goes, Luisa said. Who is that?
I walked her home and explained the situation, though I didn’t fully understand it myself. She was silent and listened attentively. Complex, she agreed, when I was done.
We passed the butcher’s shop and bought a couple of steaks that I grilled, bloody, as per her request. We ate in bed watching television. Luisa fell asleep and I took the trays to the kitchen and washed the plates. Then I helped her undress and covered her with the sheet.
There was a bottle of beer in the fridge. I drank it in the garden. An hour passed and I still wasn’t tired. Luisa slept uncovered with her mouth open. Her belly was huge, and inside it something was alive, and this was her, but it was also other things. I went to bed in the middle of the night; it must have been around four. The noise woke Luisa and she looked at me. I was scared, she said. I was having a nightmare.
I hugged her and felt her forehead. She was burning up. You have a fever, I said. But she told me she didn’t. Apparently, this was normal. I looked for her mouth in the dark and was touching her when I felt the baby kick. I wanted to cry but bit my lip. Luisa had a tiny orgasm and kissed my neck. She fell asleep right away. I read until the sun came up.
* * *
I spent most of that day at the ice cream shop, hidden behind one of the columns. Luisa let me know whenever my aunt walked by. She went into the hotel at twelve, came out at one thirty, returned fifteen minutes later with a grocery bag, and stayed until five in the afternoon. At six I crossed the street and asked how much a room cost. The key rack was almost full. There were just a few keys missing on the fourth floor, a couple on the third, and one on the second.
The girl behind the counter was on the computer. She told me the prices without looking up. I thanked her and walked to the stairs. Nobody stopped me. I went up to the fourth floor and called Dad. The phone rang three times. I was taking a nap, honey, he mumbled. I walked along the hall, listening, and then went down to the third floor. I asked him how his cough was, whether he’d seen my sister, how things were going at the restaurant. On the other side of the door to room 303, I heard his voice. I knocked. He told me to hold on a second and opened the door in his underwear.
* * *
We had dinner at the hotel bar. Dad hadn’t left his room in five days. We ordered two bottles of wine, one and a half of which he drank himself. He wanted to know when I was planning to go back. In a couple of days, I told him. Why don’t we go together? I don’t know, he said. I might stay. And live here at the hotel? Or do you plan to move in with Mom and Aunt Julia at some point? He said nothing, just stared at his plate. Are you kidding me? I said. Julia told me they needed help moving some furniture. Maybe I can stop by, and then… I don’t know.
Dad, there’s no way you’re going to that house, I told him. My voice came out through clenched teeth, like I was angry. But I wasn’t angry. They could do whatever they wanted. I was just trying to prevent the disaster because I’d be the one they’d call to intervene. I told him so. He took a sip of wine. That’s possible, he admitted, and looked bored, like he always did when he felt he was being reprimanded.
* * *
I’d promised Luisa I’d stop by after dinner. It had gotten late, but I still went. The light was on in her kitchen. I knocked on the door and she opened it naked. One of my books was sitting on the table. My notes in green ink filled the margins. I was flipping through it, she said. You forgot it at the ice cream shop. I asked her if she’d liked it and she laughed. She had a beautiful laugh. I don’t know, she said, I didn’t understand a thing. She was standing in the middle of the kitchen, right under the light, her body held very straight. The lamp’s glow highlighted the contours of her belly. My feet are swollen, she said.
We went to bed and I put two pillows at the end so she could prop her feet up. I took off my clothes and wrapped my arms around her, placing one under her belly. Her skin was damp and smelled liked lotion. She ran a hand through my hair. When are you leaving? she asked. I’m not sure, I said. Maybe in a couple of days?
Horce
When I bought the seeds from the old man in the park, I was thinking about her, about having something to tell her, an excuse to pick up the phone. I’d spent the afternoon sitting on a rickety bench, enjoying the tedium that had numbed me since Anita had left, watching an old man smoke silently next to a cardboard sign, the words written in red marker. People passed by and snuck looks out of the corner of their eye, careful not to get close enough to be mistaken for potential customers, but hoping to see something, anything that would appease their curiosity a little.
The sun began to set and the park emptied. I decided to go up to the man, figuring I was the only one desperate enough to buy something from him. Fifty, he said in a cracked voice, with complete impunity, when I asked how much. His teeth were stained yellow, his fingers gnarled. He was gaunt and curved, and seemed on the verge of snapping in half. I took out a bill, handed it to him, and in exchange he gave me a package wrapped in brown paper. Inside was a seed barely bigger than a peach pit.
Seeds is written with a double e and horse with an s, I said maliciously, wanting at least a bit of revenge for having pitied him. He lit another cigarette and smiled at me, like he didn’t understand or didn’t care.
Give it plenty of water, I heard him say as I walked away. I imagined him laughing behind my back, but I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
* * *
The first thing I did when I got home was pick up the phone. For a while, I held it in one hand, then the other, rehearsing what I was going to say. I’d start with a hesitant “Hi, Anita,” and continue with an uncomfortable silence, reinforced by her breathing on the other end of the line, by her fingers playing with her earlobe, which she did whenever she was nervous. Then, when she asked why I was calling—because at some point she would ask—I’d laugh for a few seconds and say something like: “You won’t believe what happened to me today…” I’d tell her about the old man, the horse seeds, how nice the afternoon had been in the park, what a good time we would have had together. She wouldn’t answer, but for sure she’d smile; she wouldn’t be able to stop herself. That’s when I’d take advantage of her silence and up the ante. Tell her how alone I felt without her, how much I missed her.
But I overthought it and it got late. Anita goes to bed early. For lack of something to do, I pulled the dead geranium out of the only flowerpot I had and placed the seed in it. Then I covered the seed with a bit of soil and watered it.
* * *
Of course, the hoax wasn’t what I’d imagined; the old man had laughed at my skepticism, which I’d claimed was the foundation of my reasoning, but was instead a pit. Lately, it had swallowed everything up, including the love I’d felt for Anita. When I woke the next day, I saw the tip of a snout poking out of the soil. I stood there watching the nostrils contract until common sense suggested I declare what I saw impossible, walk past it, and continue to the kitchen as though nothing had happened. I made myself a cup of coffee, black and thick.
