well-turned, and then I just stood there, a long time, until my throat began closing and tears started to fall one after the other from my eyes. I don’t know how long I was there, thinking about my daughters, imagining Ermiña picking them up from school and telling them that they weren’t going back up the hill that afternoon, they were going all the way down to their grandmother’s
house. The rain intensified and soaked my hair, my face, my body.
Suddenly I found myself walking down the path that led away from the farm, walking faster and faster, tripping as I raced down, my rubber boots slipping, and with them this body, this body that wasn’t mine, a clumsy, borrowed body that was taking me to my wife whether I liked it or not. I managed to slow it down when I got to the village. I felt my way over to a rock we used to call The Bull because of its shape, and sat on the animal’s back. Little by little I began to calm down. Going after Ermiña was crazy, no matter how you looked at it, and the idea of seeing my aunt was just plain stupid. Once I’d figured that much out, I began to feel resentful.
They told me, Ermiña had said.
When I realised, rage began to pulse through my body and I knew that Juancho had given me away.
This is where it’s hard to find the words, because in that moment I hated Juancho, and myself, but also, why not say it, Ermiña too. What had she done? Or not done?
I was struggling to put my finger on it, but I was sure there was something crouching there, as present and solid as the stone I was sitting on.
As though possessed by the devil, I jumped down from The Bull and headed back uphill. As I climbed, it finally sank in that Ermiña wouldn’t be there, nor Tatinca, nor Ileana, nor Ilopanga, and definitely not José. Distress started to wash away my rage, replacing it with a grim coldness. When I arrived at the entrance to the farm I saw Juancho sitting by his little shack, his rifle hanging over his shoulder. The rain had abated and heavy clouds were rising over the mountainside, by turns hiding and illuminating the clearing, so that sometimes I could see Juancho’s hunched figure
and sometimes not. As I got closer I had the impression that I was approaching a very tired ghost.
You have to go, I said, now almost level with him.
He turned to look at me, slowly but not surprised.
What?
Go, I told him, now.
Why?
Swallowing saliva, I made an effort to keep my voice calm.
I saw those guys you know, down below. They’re on their way up.
Down below?
Not that far, I explained. They’d already reached
the village.
They spoke to you?
No, I said, thinking on my feet, they just saw me in the distance and starting talking amongst themselves. I’m telling you, they’re heading up here.
His hand reached for the pistol in his belt.
Now?
Now, I told him.
Juancho stood, and then stared intently at the spot where the path reaches the farm. He started looking around him, along the line where the clearing ends and the forest begins.
For sure?
For sure, Juancho, go.
He took out the pistol, loaded it, and ran into his shack. A minute later he was back with his rucksack.
He turned to look around him one more time with his big cow eyes and, without saying goodbye, ran off towards the path down the hill. Halfway there he stopped. He turned on the spot and ran back up, stumbling.
Take this, he said, pulling the rifle over his head as he approached. You might need it.
Why would I need it?
That’s how they are, he said. Be careful.
I almost felt alarmed. Seeing him like that, his hair a mess and his jaw clenched, I thought, for a second, about telling him the truth. But José’s little hands flashed through my mind again, waving goodbye, and the moment passed.
Go, I told him, go quickly.
He slipped across the farm towards the path, seemed to change his mind, then made for the edge of the clearing and disappeared into the forest.
I went into the hut and looked at the bed Ermiña had made up, the girls’ mattress leaning against the wooden boards of the wall so she could clean, the whole room dark and neat. I sat down on the edge of the bed, leant back, and seeing the metal roof suddenly heard my girls laughing outside, chasing the dog Baloo around the tanks. But the noise dissolved into the sound of trickling water, and then I felt like I was sinking into the mattress, as though I could fall right through it. I tried to think of something else, to shake off my longing, and remembered Analí’s message. I dug around in my trousers for my phone.
I want to do things to you…
My body responded. I want to do things to you… I read it again, maybe even said it out loud. I imagined her topless, naked, on me, just like I’d imagined her a thousand times. Clutching her own little breasts in her hands, lifting her gaze to the ceiling. I typed the message furiously, barely even looking at the screen.
Her reply arrived within a couple of minutes.
I’ll meet you above the village at six.
I was late going to get her and ran recklessly down the hill, my insides roiling with emotion. I found her by an enormous oak tree, just where the sweetgum plantation begins to turn into forest. At least my silence matched hers this time. We headed up to the farm.
I’m glad you’re alone, she said eventually, when we reached the clearing.
The forest had gone silent, as though the plants, the water, the animals and the birds had all quietened down in their own little corners, attentive to this new presence. Even Baloo had disappeared.
I didn’t reply. Her scent hit me and already that was almost too much. But being like that, on the verge of setting everything alight, lost for words, did me good.
I saw her cast an eye over the farm, curious, and above all satisfied. She went over to one of the tanks
and dipped a finger in the water.
It’s cold, she said, then put her finger in her mouth and sucked it.
That water tastes of fish, I know because I’ve done the same, but with the way she was looking at me it could have been the sacred fountain of our unbridled passion.
And this is your place? she asked, eyeing the hut.
It had started to rain again, and before I could answer she was already stepping lightly towards the door. She opened it and let herself in. I followed her and lit a candle on the night table. Heavy raindrops started to thunder on
the metal roof, gathering strength as Analí explored, walking around the bed to examine the flower design on the quilt, going over to the calendar featuring pictures of Swiss meadows that Don Henrik had put up on the wall, using her toes to toy with the mothballs Ermiña had put down in the corners. Then she turned to me and wrinkled her nose.
It smells… different, here, she said.
I didn’t like the way she said it, but she’d already crouched down to pick up a little rubber ball from under the bed.
Is