Tender is the Flesh(22)

Spanel wraps her legs around his waist and holds on to his neck with her hands. He presses her harder against the glass. Then he penetrates her, grabs hold of her face and looks her straight in the eye. He moves slowly, doesn’t avert his gaze. She becomes frantic, shakes her head, wants to break free. But he won’t let her. He can feel her ragged breath, she’s nearly in agony. When she stops writhing, he runs his hand along her skin, and he kisses her and continues to move slowly. It’s then that Spanel screams, she screams as if the world didn’t exist, she screams as if words had split in two and lost all meaning, she screams as if beneath this hell, there was another hell, one from which she didn’t want to escape.

He gets dressed while Spanel, still naked, sits on the chair, smoking. She smiles, showing all her teeth.

El Perro is still looking in through the window. Spanel knows he’s there, on the other side of the door, but she ignores him.

He leaves without saying goodbye.





19




He gets into his car and lights a cigarette. But before he starts the engine, his phone rings. It’s his sister.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Marcos. Where are you? I see buildings. Are you in the city?”

“I am. I had to run some errands.”

“Why don’t you come over for lunch then.”

“I can’t, I have to go in to work.”

“Marcos, I know perfectly well that today is your day off. The woman who answered the phone at the plant told me. I haven’t seen you in ages.”

He’d rather see his sister than go back home to the female.

“I’ll make special kidneys in a lemon and herb marinade. You’ll be licking it off your fingers.”

“I’m not eating meat, Marisa.”

His sister looks at him with surprise and a bit of suspicion.

“You’re not one of those veganoids now, are you?”

“It’s for health reasons, my doctor suggested I stop eating meat. It’s just for a while.”

“Is everything okay? Don’t scare me, Marcos.”

“It’s nothing serious. My cholesterol’s a bit high, that’s all.”

“Well, I’ll think of something. But come over, I want to see you.”

It’s not for health reasons. Since his son died he hasn’t gone back to eating meat.

The prospect of seeing his sister weighs on him. Visiting her is an errand to be taken care of when he has no other choice. He doesn’t know who his sister is, not really.

He drives slowly through the city. There are people around, but it seems deserted. It’s not just because the population has been reduced. Ever since animals were eliminated, there’s been a silence that nobody hears, and yet it’s there, always, resounding throughout the city. It’s a shrill silence that can be seen on people’s faces, in their gestures, in the way they look at one another. It’s as if everyone’s lives have been detained, as if they were waiting for the nightmare to end.

He arrives at his sister’s place and gets out of the car. Somewhat resigned, he rings the doorbell.

“Hi, Marquitos!”

His sister’s words are like boxes filled with blank paper. She gives him a hug that’s limp, quick.

“Let me take your umbrella.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Are you crazy? What do you mean you don’t have one?”

“I don’t have one, Marisa. I live out in the country and the birds won’t do anything. It’s only in the city that people are paranoid.”

“Hurry up and come inside, will you.”

His sister pushes him into the house and looks around. She’s worried that the neighbours will see her brother without an umbrella.

He knows that what will ensue is the ritual of talking about trivialities, during which Marisa insinuates that she can’t take responsibility for their father, and he says that she doesn’t have to worry, and sees the two strangers that are her children, and she drops the guilt for six months until the whole thing repeats itself.

They go to the kitchen.

“How are you, Marquitos?”

He hates it when she calls him Marquitos. She does it to express a modicum of affection, which she doesn’t feel.

“I’m fine.”

“A bit better?”

There’s pity and condescension in her eyes. It’s the only way she’s looked at him since he lost his son.

He doesn’t answer, restricts himself to lighting a cigarette.

“I’m sorry but not in here, okay? You’ll fill the house with the smell of smoke.”

His sister’s words accumulate, one on top of the other, like folders piled on folders inside folders. He puts out the cigarette.

He wants to leave.

“The food’s ready. I’m just waiting to hear from Esteban.”

Esteban is his sister’s husband. Whenever he thinks of his brother-in-law, he sees a man hunched over, with a face full of contradictions and a half-smile that’s an attempt at hiding them. He believes Esteban is a man trapped by his circumstances, by a wife who’s a monument to stupidity and by a life he regrets having chosen.

“Oh, Esteban just got back to me. That’s too bad. He has a lot of work and won’t be able to make it.”