Power that makes me act is still reverberating inside me, and it seems as if it will never be time for the four o’clock bell to ring so I can leave school, go home, and warn Bichi, since he’s my little brother, after all, and I’m the one chosen by the powers to protect him.
Sometimes the voice is so insistent, so harsh, that Agustina skips school in the middle of the morning, running from Seventy-first Street and Fourth Road, which is where her school is, to Bichi’s school, which is at Eighty-second and Thirteenth, just to tell him that my father is going to hit him, and since the guard at the Boys School won’t let me in during classes, I make up a lie, please let fifth-grader Carlos Vicente Londoño come out because his sister is here to tell him that his grandfather is dying, and a little while later, Bichi arrives at the guardhouse all confused because he was in the middle of a geography test, What is it, Tina, which grandfather?, and she, who realizes just then that what she’s doing is ridiculous, and that it would have been better to wait until both of them got home that afternoon, nevertheless says, It’s Grandfather Portulinus, the German one we never met because he went back to Europe, And what does that have to do with anything, Tina, did someone bring news that he was dying in Europe?, I guess they did, she lies, but never mind, go finish your exam, and when Bichi is already far away, she shouts, Lies, Bichito, Grandfather Portulinus has nothing to do with this, what I came to tell you is that tonight my father will hit you.
Once I’ve spoken these words I start back home, not paying the slightest attention to cars when I cross the street and not stopping even when I trip or step in a hole and then later at home, in the dining room, I sit at the table to have my chocolate milk and vanilla cookies with butter and jam that they always give me at five, and I make the little towers I like so much, cookie, layer of butter, layer of jam, cookie again, and back to the beginning until it’s a stack this high; Agustina eats her tower of cookies and when Aminta, the cook, comes in, she asks Agustina, What happened to you, child, your knees are a mess, and when Agustina looks at them she sees that they’re bleeding and that both knees are glistening with scrapes dotted with sand, scrapes that I don’t know how or when I got.
And then Bichi isn’t always grateful, because there are some corners of his life where he thinks he doesn’t need me. Like a little prince, he says cockily to his sister, Not now, Tina, not now. That’s enough, Tina, he yelled at her the last time, without coming to meet her, I don’t want to talk about this now, But Bichi, it’s for your own good and you’re at recess, Yes, but I’m happy here playing tops with Montes and Méndez. Other times I’ve said to him, Bichito let’s not eat in the dining room with everybody else tonight because the powers say that today for sure you’ll get hit; and those times we ask my mother permission to eat in my room with the excuse that there’s a television show we absolutely have to see, and my mother usually says all right, and makes Aminta bring up our food on the silver trays. When Agustina sees that Bichi’s eyes are closing because he’s so sleepy, she says, Now the danger is past, you can go to your room, but don’t do anything to make Daddy angry on your way, The problem is I don’t know what makes him angry, Tina, Everything makes him angry, Bicho, don’t do anything because everything makes him angry. Then my little brother is grateful because I’ve saved him and the next day at breakfast he whispers in my ear, If it wasn’t for you, Agustina, last night I would have suffered.
THE LAST THING I thought about my wife before I left, watching her set about the task of painting the apartment walls for the second time that year, was how useless she was, and yet how much I loved her. I’m often struck by that dual thought,
Sometimes the voice is so insistent, so harsh, that Agustina skips school in the middle of the morning, running from Seventy-first Street and Fourth Road, which is where her school is, to Bichi’s school, which is at Eighty-second and Thirteenth, just to tell him that my father is going to hit him, and since the guard at the Boys School won’t let me in during classes, I make up a lie, please let fifth-grader Carlos Vicente Londoño come out because his sister is here to tell him that his grandfather is dying, and a little while later, Bichi arrives at the guardhouse all confused because he was in the middle of a geography test, What is it, Tina, which grandfather?, and she, who realizes just then that what she’s doing is ridiculous, and that it would have been better to wait until both of them got home that afternoon, nevertheless says, It’s Grandfather Portulinus, the German one we never met because he went back to Europe, And what does that have to do with anything, Tina, did someone bring news that he was dying in Europe?, I guess they did, she lies, but never mind, go finish your exam, and when Bichi is already far away, she shouts, Lies, Bichito, Grandfather Portulinus has nothing to do with this, what I came to tell you is that tonight my father will hit you.
Once I’ve spoken these words I start back home, not paying the slightest attention to cars when I cross the street and not stopping even when I trip or step in a hole and then later at home, in the dining room, I sit at the table to have my chocolate milk and vanilla cookies with butter and jam that they always give me at five, and I make the little towers I like so much, cookie, layer of butter, layer of jam, cookie again, and back to the beginning until it’s a stack this high; Agustina eats her tower of cookies and when Aminta, the cook, comes in, she asks Agustina, What happened to you, child, your knees are a mess, and when Agustina looks at them she sees that they’re bleeding and that both knees are glistening with scrapes dotted with sand, scrapes that I don’t know how or when I got.
And then Bichi isn’t always grateful, because there are some corners of his life where he thinks he doesn’t need me. Like a little prince, he says cockily to his sister, Not now, Tina, not now. That’s enough, Tina, he yelled at her the last time, without coming to meet her, I don’t want to talk about this now, But Bichi, it’s for your own good and you’re at recess, Yes, but I’m happy here playing tops with Montes and Méndez. Other times I’ve said to him, Bichito let’s not eat in the dining room with everybody else tonight because the powers say that today for sure you’ll get hit; and those times we ask my mother permission to eat in my room with the excuse that there’s a television show we absolutely have to see, and my mother usually says all right, and makes Aminta bring up our food on the silver trays. When Agustina sees that Bichi’s eyes are closing because he’s so sleepy, she says, Now the danger is past, you can go to your room, but don’t do anything to make Daddy angry on your way, The problem is I don’t know what makes him angry, Tina, Everything makes him angry, Bicho, don’t do anything because everything makes him angry. Then my little brother is grateful because I’ve saved him and the next day at breakfast he whispers in my ear, If it wasn’t for you, Agustina, last night I would have suffered.
THE LAST THING I thought about my wife before I left, watching her set about the task of painting the apartment walls for the second time that year, was how useless she was, and yet how much I loved her. I’m often struck by that dual thought,
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