A Long Petal of the Sea(81)
“That was at the beginning. He died in 1975. After his death, my mother flourished. My father was a despot.”
She told him that Do?a Laura became less devoted to compulsive praying and good works, and more interested in games of canasta and spiritualism with a group of esoteric old ladies who communicated with the souls of people in the Great Beyond. This was how she kept in touch with Leonardo, her adored Baby. Father Vicente Urbina was unaware of this fresh sin staining the del Solar family, because Do?a Laura was careful not to tell him. She knew summoning the dead was a demonic practice roundly condemned by the Church. Ofelia spoke of the priest with sarcasm. She said that at eighty-something years old, Urbina was a bishop and an eloquent defender of the dictatorship’s methods, which he saw as fully justified in their protection of Western Christian civilization against the perversity of Marxism. The Chilean cardinal, who had set up an organization to protect the persecuted and keep a record of the disappeared, had to call him to order when in his enthusiasm he defended torture and summary executions. The bishop was tireless in his mission to save souls, especially those of the well-to-do faithful. He continued as the spiritual adviser to the del Solar family, in a much more powerful position since the death of the patriarch. Do?a Laura, her daughters, sons-in-law, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren all depended on his wisdom for both big and small decisions.
“I escaped his influence because I loathe him. He’s a sinister man. Fortunately, I’ve nearly always lived far from Chile. Felipe also escaped, because he’s the most intelligent one in the family, and because he lives half his life in England.”
“What’s become of him?”
“He endured the three years of Allende’s government, certain it wasn’t going to last. But he couldn’t stand the junta’s barracks mentality, because he foresaw they could remain in power forever. You know how he admires everything English. He detests Chilean hypocrisy and sanctimony. He goes back on regular visits to see my mother and look after the family finances.”
“Didn’t you have another brother? One who measured typhoons and hurricanes?”
“He settled in Hawaii. He came back to Chile only once to claim his share of the inheritance after my father’s death. Do you remember Juana, our housekeeper, who adored your son, Marcel? She’s exactly the same. No one, not even she herself, knows how old she is, but she still looks after the house and cares for my mother, who’s over ninety and quite mad. There are a lot of lunatics in my family. Well, I’ve brought you up to date about us. Now tell me about you.”
Victor summed up his life in five minutes. He mentioned only briefly the year he had been a prisoner, and skipped over the worst moments, partly because it seemed to him in bad taste to mention them, and also because he thought Ofelia would prefer not to know. If she guessed at any of it she refrained from asking him, merely commenting that Matias had been conservative in his political ideas, but had served Chile as a diplomat throughout the three years of socialism without questioning his duty. On the other hand, he had felt ashamed to be representing the military regime because of the bad reputation it had throughout the world. She added that she had never been interested in politics, that art was her thing, and that she lived in peace in Chile, with her trees and animals, never reading the press. Her life was the same, with or without the dictatorship.
They said goodbye, promising they would stay in touch, although they knew this was a mere formality. Victor felt relieved: if one lives long enough, circles close. The Ofelia del Solar circle closed neatly for him in that Athenaeum café, without leaving any ashes. The embers had died long ago. He decided he didn’t like her character or her painting. The only thing memorable about her was her sky-blue eyes.
Roser was waiting at home for him rather anxiously, but she only had to glance at him to burst out laughing. Her husband looked several years younger. Victor gave her the news of the del Solar family, and in conclusion commented that Ofelia smelled of withered gardenias. He was convinced Roser had foreseen his disappointment: that was why she took him to the exhibit and left him alone with his former love. His wife had taken too big a risk: it could have happened that rather than being disenchanted with Ofelia, he would fall in love with her again. Evidently that possibility didn’t worry Roser at all. The problem with us, he reflected, is that she takes me for granted, whereas I keep thinking she might run off with somebody else.
CHAPTER 12
1983–1991
I live now in a country as soft
As the autumn skin of grapes.
—PABLO NERUDA
“Country”
BARREN TERRAIN
THE NEWS THAT IN CHILE there was a new list of eighteen hundred exiles authorized to return was published in the Sunday edition of El Universal, the only day that the Dalmaus read the newspaper from start to finish. Roser went to the Chilean consulate to see the list posted in the window. Victor Dalmau’s name was on it. The earth opened beneath her feet. They had been waiting for this moment for nine years, but when it finally happened she couldn’t rejoice, because it meant leaving everything they had, including Marcel, to return to the country they had left because they couldn’t bear the repression. She wondered what sense there was in going back if nothing had changed, but talking it over that night with Victor, he argued that if they didn’t do it soon, they never would.