*
Don Henrik arrived at the trout farm two weeks after my first encounter with Analí. Juancho, my wife and I got together on his terrace and sat on the plastic chairs he’d brought with him on the previous trip. He paid the wages he owed us and asked me to bring him the glass (I’ve got it in the hut for safekeeping). From the front seat of his 4x4 he brought out three plastic cups and a bottle of rum, and filled them all to the brim.
We’ve started to make a bit of money, he told us, raising his glass.
We raised ours too and toasted him. Juancho, the faker, made as if the drink was burning his throat. Ermiña took one sip of hers and began to sneeze.
Hallelujah! said Don Henrik, who’d been drinking on his way there, and filled our cups again.
We have new clients, he said, now settled in his chair, two more restaurants in the capital want our trout. This is going to be a huge project, he added, and the glint in his eye as he looked around him began to fire my enthusiasm.
He lit a cigarette and put on his boss’s voice to announce that he’d brought a new batch of trout eggs.
Don Henrik orders the eggs from Norway, where he has contacts. When they arrive we have to put them in the incubator, which is really just an ice box, and when they begin to hatch we move them to the first tank to fatten them up.
Rainbow trout eggs are orange with little black dots – those are the baby trout. Don Henrik says in
Russia they eat it as caviar, but I can’t stand it, personally. With every batch of eggs we learn something new. These days we only have a seven percent mortality rate. I know this for a fact because it’s my job to keep the official count, though in reality only six percent of the trout actually die. The remaining one percent I
take out of the tanks when they’re fat enough and we eat them ourselves. It’s the only meal Juancho will share with us. José starts jumping up and down when she sees me piling up logs to one side of the clearing.
As soon as the fish have been skewered, the four girls start dancing round the fire. Seeing them like that, happy and wild, makes me jump up and down on the inside myself.
That night Don Henrik got more drunk than usual. We made him up a corner of the hut, shifting the freezer where we keep the trout when they’re ready for delivery, and while he was undressing – his huge belly hanging over his white underpants – he repeated again that we were nearly there, that the business was about to take off. At dawn he headed to the capital and didn’t come back for a month and a half.
*
A couple of nights later I was woken by my phone vibrating. The hut lit up with a bluish light and I had to cover the screen with my hand. For a second I thought Ermiña had also woken up, but I checked and it turned out just to be her left eye, which sometimes opens when she’s asleep. I looked at the message and recognised Analí’s number – I knew it off by heart.
Mmmmm, it said.
I went hot all over and my toes started to twitch of their own accord. I turned the phone face down and lay there on my back for a moment, unable to go back to sleep. Mmmmm, I thought, and, unable to control myself, groped around for the phone so I could look at it again.
Mmmmm.
I was on the point of turning it off when I heard a noise in the corner of the room, where the four girls sleep on the mattress Don Henrik gave us when we started the project. I thought I could make out José watching me. Slightly uneasy, I turned off the phone and tried to go back to sleep. I could barely keep my eyes shut.
The next weekend I told Ermiña I’d have to take the trout to the bus station in San Agustín. From there we send them to the capital. I got the ice box ready, loading it onto the quad bike Don Henrik had brought for transporting materials. I sent one last message to Analí, agreeing a meeting place, and set off down the hill.
She was waiting for me where the path forked, heading up to the top of the mountain in one direction and down to San Agustín in the other.
Hello troublemaker, I said.
She got on the bike behind me without saying a word.
What did you tell your family? I asked. The smell of Pert Plus was overwhelming. I felt high just from breathing it.
That I was going out with you, that you wanted to do things with me.
A warm shiver ran up the back of my neck.
Seriously? I asked.
Seriously. Didn’t you tell yours the same? she asked.
And with that we settled the matter. She put her hands around my waist and rested her head on my back.
I had to kick the starter a couple of times. As I was getting the engine going I realised I was going to have to be careful.
We dropped the trout off at the station in San Agustín then headed towards El Templo, a guesthouse run by my pal Maynor. Maynor had put vases of gardenias in the room and two little chocolates rested on the crisp pillow. It was in that room that I realised I was getting rusty, or rather that, frankly, Analí had more experience than I’d imagined, and I’d imagined plenty.
You need to watch it, I told myself again when we emerged from the room an hour later, but promptly forgot. I’d showered to get rid of the smell, although the fragrance of Pert Plus had already made its way inside me, into my blood.
On the way back up Analí held my waist more tightly. When we arrived at the fork in the road she got out without a word, gave me a kiss, and disappeared down the path.
*
When I got back to the trout farm everything was dark. I parked the quad bike to one side of the tanks and turned off the engine. I was heading towards the hut, the water in the tanks murmuring amongst the sounds of the forest, when I saw a silhouette step into the path. My heart skipped a beat.
Juancho was waiting for me, one hand resting on the concrete edge of the tank, the other folded across his body, grasping the strap of the rifle hanging over his shoulder.
Did I scare you? he asked.
Hardly. Did I scare you? I responded, with more bravura than logic.
I was just passing, he said.
Right.
It’s late, he said.
Yes, I replied.
And you’re still up.
I am.
I wanted to make sure… he added, but then seemed to have second thoughts about completing the sentence.
At that moment the clouds parted and for a second the clearing was lit up from above. I realised he was smiling.
I’m going to bed, Juancho.
Of course, he said, you must be tired.
His face gave nothing away as he said this.
We’ve got a lot of work to do, I said, and, sighing deeply as though burdened by other things, headed up to the hut.
Be careful, he said to my back, and if I didn’t slam the door it was only because I didn’t want to wake my family. I listened to his footsteps, lighter than usual, heading towards the forest.
*
In the morning my daughters went down to the village to check if their drunk of a schoolteacher had turned up that day. Meanwhile Ermiña was planting some watercress in the vegetable garden and I went to look for Juancho in the forest.
I found him up by the deep spring, standing motionless looking at the water. I stayed out of sight for a while behind a couple of big swiss cheese plants, thinking how easy it would be to give him a little shove. I stood there