Tender is the Flesh(50)
He waits behind the door to the room, his ear pressed against the wood. There are no shouts, just Cecilia’s voice saying, “Come on, honey, push, push, that’s it, come on, you can do this, harder, it’s on its way now, come on, love, that’s it, that’s it,” as though Jasmine could understand her. Then there’s complete silence. The minutes pass and he hears Cecilia yell, “No! Come on, little one, turn around, come on, honey, push, come on, it’s almost there, almost there. Please God, help me. You are not going to die on me, no fucking way, not while I’m here. Come on, love, that’s it, you can do this.” For a few minutes he doesn’t hear anything, and then he hears a cry, and goes in.
His child is in Cecilia’s arms. She’s covered in sweat, her hair is a mess, but she’s smiling, and it lights up her face.
“It’s a boy.”
He goes up to her and takes the baby in his arms, rocks him, kisses him. The baby cries. Cecilia says that the umbilical cord needs to be cut, and the baby cleaned and wrapped up. She says this between tears, she’s emotional, happy.
Once she’s taken care of these things, Cecilia hands back the baby, who’s now calmed down. He looks at his son in disbelief. “He’s beautiful,” he says, “he’s just beautiful.” He feels the shards of stone shrink, lose their hold.
Jasmine is in bed and she stretches out her arms. They ignore her, but she opens her mouth and moves her hands. She tries to get up, and then she does, and bumps into the night table with her hips, and knocks over the lamp.
They look at her silently.
“Go get some more towels and water to clean her before you take her out to the barn,” Cecilia tells him.
He gets up and gives his son to Cecilia, who begins to rock and sing to him. “He’s ours now,” he tells her, and she looks at him, unable to respond, emotional, confused.
All Cecilia can do is look at the baby and cry silently. She cuddles him and says, “What a beautiful baby, you’re the most adorable baby boy. What are we going to call you?”
He goes to the kitchen and returns with something in his right hand.
Jasmine is only able to stretch out her arms desperately towards her son. She tries to get up again but is cut by the pieces of glass from the broken lamp.
He sits down behind Jasmine. She looks back at him in despair. First he puts his arms around her and kisses the mark on her forehead. He tries to calm her down. Then he gets onto his knees on the floor, and says, “Easy does it, everything’s gonna be just fine, take it easy.” With a wet rag he wipes the sweat from her forehead. He sings “Summertime” into her ear.
When she calms down a little, he stands up and grabs her by the hair. Jasmine is only able to move her hands, is trying to reach her son. She wants to speak, to scream, but there are no sounds. He picks up the club he brought from the kitchen and hits her on the forehead, right where she’s been branded. Jasmine falls to the floor, stunned, unconscious.
Cecilia jumps when she hears the thud and looks at him without understanding. “Why?” she yells. “She could have given us more children.”
As he drags the body of the female to the barn to slaughter it, he says to Cecilia, his voice radiant, so pure it wounds: “She had the human look of a domesticated animal.”
Acknowledgements
To Liliana Díaz Mindmurry, Félix Bruzzone, Gabriela Cabezón Cámara, Pilar Bazterrica, Ricardo Uzal García, Camila Bazterrica Uzal, Lucas Bazterrica Uzal, Juan Cruz Bazterrica, Daniela Benítez, Antonia Bazterrica, Gaspar Bazterrica, Fermín Bazterrica, Fernanda Navas, Rita Piacentini, Bemi Fiszbein, Pamela Terlizzi Prina, Alejandra Keller, Laura Lina, Mónica Piazza, Agustina Caride, Valeria Correa Fiz, Mavi Saracho, Nicolás Hochman, Gonzalo Gálvez Romano, Diego Tomasi, Alan Ojeda, Marcos Urdapilleta, Valentino Cappelloni, Juan Otero, Julían Pigna, Alejo Miranda, Bernadita Crespo, Ramiro Altamirano, Vivi Valdés.
To my parents, Mercedes Jones and Jorge Bazterrica.
To Mariano Borobio, always.