Tender is the Flesh(23)

“That’s fine.”

“The kids will be home soon from school.”

His sister’s kids. There are two of them. He thinks that she was never much interested in maternity, that she had her kids because it’s one of the things you’re supposed to do in life, like throwing a party on your fifteenth birthday, getting married, renovating your home and eating meat.

He says nothing because he doesn’t care to see them. She serves him lemonade with mint in it and puts a plate below the glass. He takes a sip and puts it back down. The lemonade has an artificial taste.

“How are you, Marquitos? The truth.”

She barely touches his hand and tilts her head, holding back the pity she feels, though not entirely, because she wants him to notice it. He looks at the fingers she’s placed over his hand and thinks that not long ago, that hand grabbed hold of Spanel by the nape of her neck.

“I’m fine.”

“How is it possible that you don’t have an umbrella?”

He sighs a little and thinks that yet again, they’re going to have the argument they do every year.

“I don’t need one. Nobody needs one.”

“Everyone needs one. There are areas that don’t have protective roofs. Do you want to get yourself killed?”

“Marisa, do you seriously think that if a bird shits on your head, you’re going to die?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll say it again, Marisa, in the country, at the plant, no one uses an umbrella, no one would even think of using one. Wouldn’t it make more sense to believe that if you get bitten by a mosquito, which could have bitten an animal before you, you might get the virus?”

“No, because the government says there’s no risk with mosquitoes.”

“The government wants to manipulate you, that’s the only reason it exists.”

“Here everyone uses an umbrella when they go out. It’s only logical.”

“Have you ever stopped to think that maybe the umbrella industry saw an opportunity and the government got in on it?”

“You always think there’s some conspiracy when there isn’t.”

He can hear her tapping the floor with her foot. Slowly, almost without making a sound, but he knows his sister has reached her limit, that she’s incapable of discussing the subject further, more than anything because she doesn’t think for herself. That’s why she can’t back up her point of view for very long.

“Let’s not argue, Marquitos.”

“Fine by me.”

She uses her fingers to display the virtual screen on the kitchen table. In the menu, a photo of her children appears. She touches it and a window pops up. It shows her two kids, who are almost teenagers, walking down the street with air umbrellas.

“How much longer will you be?”

“We’re almost there.”

She closes the virtual screen and looks nervously at her brother. She doesn’t know what to talk about.

“Those umbrellas were gifts from their grandparents, you have no idea how much they spoil the kids. They’d been asking for them for years, but they’re so expensive. Who would think of making an umbrella with an air propeller? But the kids are happy, they’re the envy of all their classmates.”

He doesn’t say anything and looks at a picture frame on the kitchen wall. The frame projects images of cheap still-life compositions. Fruits in baskets, oranges on a table, a series of unsigned drawings. Close to the frame he sees a cockroach on the wall. The cockroach crawls down to the countertop and disappears behind a plate of bread.

“The kids just love this virtual game their grandparents got them. It’s called My Real Pet.”

He doesn’t ask her anything. His sister’s words smell of detained humidity, of confinement, of intense cold. She keeps talking.

“You create your own animal and you can actually pet it, play with it, feed it. Mine’s a white angora cat called Mishi. But she’s just a kitten because I don’t want her to get any bigger. I prefer baby cats, like everyone does.”

He never liked cats. Or baby cats. He takes a sip of lemonade, hides his disgust and watches the images change in the picture frame. A still life flickers and then becomes pixelated. The frame goes black.

“The kids created a dragon and a unicorn. But we know they’re going to get bored soon, just like they did with Boby, he was a robot dog we bought them. We saved up for so long and after a few months they got tired of him. Boby’s in the garage, turned off. He’s really well-made, but it’s not the same thing as a real dog.”

His sister always makes sure he understands that they don’t have a lot of money, that theirs is an austere life. He knows this isn’t true though he doesn’t care either way, and doesn’t hold a grudge because she contributes nothing, not even a penny, towards their father’s care.

“I put together a warm salad with vegetables and rice for you. Does that sound okay?”

“Yes.”

He notices a door near the sink that he doesn’t remember. It’s the kind of door found in households that raise heads. He can tell it’s new and hasn’t been used. Behind the door is a cold room. Now he understands why his sister invited him over. She’s going to ask for heads at a good price so she can raise them.