Kiss of the Spider Woman (17 page)
Read Kiss of the Spider Woman Online
Authors: Manuel Puig
Tags: #Regional.Latin America, #Fiction.Magical Realism, #Fiction.Literature.Modern, #Acclaimed.Horror 100 Best.Index
—What do you mean?
—Aghhh, Molina, my friend . . . it feels like I’m getting sick all over again.
—Where does it hurt?
—Down in my gut . . .
—Don’t tense up, Valentin, that’ll make it worse; try to stay calm.
—Yes.
—Lie back.
—I just feel so sad, I can’t tell you.
—What’s the matter?
—That poor kid, if you only knew. What a wonderful person he was, poor guy . . .
—Who?
—The one they killed.
—Well, he won his place in heaven, that’s for sure . . .
—If only I could believe in that; it would be such a consolation sometimes, to believe that decent people ultimately find their reward. But I just can’t buy it. Ugh . . . Molina, I’m going to have to pester you again—quick, call the guard to open up.
—Hold it just a second . . . I’m just . . .
—Aghhh . . . aghhh . . . no, don’t call . . .
—Don’t be upset, I’ll get you something to wipe yourself right away.
—Aghh . . . aghh . . . the pains are so strong, as if my guts were about to burst . . .
—Loosen up your body, just let it come out and afterward I’ll wash your sheet.
—Please, bundle up the sheet under me. Because it’s coming out all liquid.
—Yes . . . sure, like this, there, you keep yourself calm now. Let it come out. Later on I’ll just take the sheet in to the showers with me. It’s Tuesday, remember?
—But that’s your sheet . . .
—It doesn’t matter, I’ll be washing yours anyway, and luckily we still have plenty of soap.
—Thanks, Molina . . . I think I’m starting to feel a little better now . . .
—You just relax, and don’t worry. You’re usually such a pisser anyway. Tell me when you’re finished and I’ll help you clean yourself up.
— . . .
—All finished?
—I think so, but now I’m freezing.
—Let me give you my blanket. That way you’ll stay warm.
—Thank you.
—But first roll over so I can clean you up. If you think you’re all done.
—Better wait a little longer . . . Molina, I’m sorry for laughing that way before, at what you were saying about boleros.
—What a time you pick to talk about boleros.
—Listen, I think I’m finished now, but I’m the one to clean myself . . . if I don’t start to faint again when I lift my head.
—Try slowly . . .
—No use, I’m still too weak, there’s no other way . . .
—I can clean you up, don’t worry about it. You just relax.
—Thank you . . .
—Okay . . . that’s it, and a little over here . . . turn slowly . . . that’s right. Nothing went through to the mattress, so it’s not so bad. And fortunately there’s plenty of water. I can just wet a clean tip of the sheet to wipe you off, that’s easy enough.
—I don’t know what to say.
—Don’t be silly. Let’s see now . . . lift up a little over here. That’s right . . . very good.
—Honestly, I can’t thank you enough, because I don’t have the strength to make it to the showers.
—Of course not, and that’s all you need is some icy water on your body.
—Uh . . . uh . . . the wet sheet’s cold too.
—Spread your legs a little more . . . That’s it.
—But it doesn’t disgust you?
—Be quiet. Now I’ll wet some more of the sheet . . . like this . . .
— . . .
—Well, you’re getting to look all tidied up now . . . just a little drying with the other end . . . What a shame I’ve got no talcum left.
—Doesn’t matter. It’s so great just being dry.
—Good, and there’s one more corner of the sheet to pat you off . . . Like that. Now you’re good and dry.
—I feel so much better, really. Thank you, my friend.
—Wait now . . . here we go . . . let me wrap you up tight in the blankets, just like a papoose. There we go . . . lift up a little on this side.
—Okay?
—That’s right . . . Wait . . . and now the other side, so you won’t catch a chill. Are you comfortable now?
—Mmm-hmm, fine . . . Thank you so much.
—And don’t you dare move, not until the dizziness goes away completely.
—We’ll see, it’ll probably go away soon.
—But whatever you want, I’m the one who gets it for you. You don’t budge.
—And I promise not to laugh at your boleros anymore. I like the lyrics from that one you were singing before . . . they’re okay.
—I especially love the part that goes, “. . . and I wonder . . . could you be remembering too, sad dreams . . . of this strange love affair . . .” Divine, isn’t it?
—You know what? . . . I actually changed diapers on that poor comrade’s baby boy, the guy they killed, I mean. We were all hiding out together in the same apartment, he and his wife, and their little son . . . Who knows what’s to become of him now? He can’t be more than three years old. What a cute little tyke . . . And the worst of it is I can’t write to anyone about it, because the slightest move on my part would compromise them . . . or even worse, identify them.
—Can’t you just write to your girl?
—That would be the worst choice of all. She’s the head of the group now. No, not to her, not to anyone. And it’s just as it says in your bolero, “because this life will never bring you back,” because I’ll never be able to write to that poor fellow either, or talk to him or anything.
—Actually what it says is, “
Although
life
may never
let us meet again . . .”
Although
life
may never
let us meet again . . .”
—“Never”! What an awful word. Until now I had no idea . . . how awful . . . that word . . . could . . . I’m sorry . . .
—It’s okay, Valentin, get it off your chest, cry as much as you want, let yourself go until you’re all cried out.
—It’s just that it all feels so rotten . . . And not being able to do anything, locked up here, unable to even . . . take care of his wife, his li- . . . little . . . kid . . . Oh, my friend, it’s . . . so sad . . .
—But what can we do?
—Molina, help me to . . . to lift my arm out . . . from under the blanket . . .
—What for?
—Give me . . . give me your hand, tight.
—Sure, grip it as hard as you can.
—I just want to stop shaking so damn much, that’s all.
—But who cares whether or not you’re shaking, if it gives you some relief.
—But there’s something else, and it bothers me so much. Something really terrible, something despicable . . .
—Tell me, get it off your chest.
—It’s that the one I’d . . . I’d really like to write me . . . the one I’d like to be with most of all, and to hold . . . isn’t my girl . . . isn’t my real woman. It’s the other one . . . it’s the one I talk to you about that I want to see.
—But that’s simply how you feel . . .
—Yeah . . . because I talk a lot but . . . but deep down inside, what I . . . what I really like is . . . is the other kind of woman. Inside I’m just the same as all the other reactionary bastards who helped to murder that poor guy . . . I’m just like them, exactly.
—That’s not true.
—Oh yes it is, let’s not kid ourselves.
—If you were like them you wouldn’t be in here.
—“. . . sad dreams of this strange love affair . . .” And you know why I became so annoyed when you started in with your bolero? Because it reminded me of Marta, not my girlfriend. That’s why. And I even think that, with Marta, I don’t feel attracted to her for any good reasons, but because . . . because she has
class
. . . that’s right, class, just like all the class-conscious pigs would say . . . in their son-of-a-bitching world.
class
. . . that’s right, class, just like all the class-conscious pigs would say . . . in their son-of-a-bitching world.
—Don’t torture yourself . . . Close your eyes and try to rest.
—But whenever I do, I start to feel dizzy again.
—I’ll heat up some water for some camomile tea. Yes, it turns out that we still have some. We just forgot about it.
—I don’t believe you . . . Really?
—I swear. It was under all my magazines, so we lost track of it.
—But it’s yours, and you like having tea in the morning.
—Listen, it’ll help you relax. Just stay quiet for a while. You’ll see what a difference a good rest makes . . .
—
a fellow with a plan on his mind, a fellow who accepts his mother’s invitation to visit her in the city, a fellow who lies to his mother assuring her of his opposition to the guerrilla movement, a fellow who dines by candlelight alone with his mother, a fellow who promises his mother to accompany her on a trip to all the fashionable winter resorts like when he was a child just after the war, a mother who goes on about all the eligible young beauties of the European aristocracy, a mother who goes on about all the wealth that he will eventually inherit, a mother who proposes to already place a substantial fortune in her son’s name, a mother who hides the real reason why she can’t accompany him to Europe just yet, a fellow who inquires into the whereabouts of the ex-manager, a fellow who finds out that the same man is actually the brains behind the Ministry of Internal Security, a fellow who finds out that the ex-manager is actually the head of secret service in the office of counterinsurgency operations, a fellow who wants to convince his mother to go off with him to Europe, a fellow who wants to take title to his fortune and repeat his childhood European voyage in order to ski with his lovely mother, a fellow who decides to leave everything behind and fly off with his mother, a fellow whose mother rejects his proposal, a mother who confesses to already having other plans, a mother who has plans to rebuild her own emotional life, a mother who goes to see him off at the airport and confides to him the news of her imminent marriage to the ex-manager, a fellow who pretends to be enthusiastic over the projected marriage, a fellow who gets off the plane at the first stopover and takes a return flight home, a fellow who joins up with the guerrillas in the mountains, a fellow determined to rehabilitate the good name of his father, a fellow who meets up with that same peasant girl who once led him through the sierra when he first met the guerrillas, a fellow who can see that she’s pregnant, a fellow who doesn’t want to have an Indian for a child, a fellow who doesn’t want to mix his blood with the blood of an Indian, a fellow who feels ashamed about all his feelings, a fellow who feels revolted to caress the future mother of his own child, a fellow who doesn’t know how to make up for his faults, a fellow who leads a guerrilla assault against the plantation where his mother and the ex-manager happen to be, a fellow who surrounds the mansion, a fellow who opens fire on his own home, a fellow who opens fire on his own flesh and blood, a fellow who orders the occupants of the house to surrender, a fellow who watches the ex-manager come out of the house hiding like a coward behind the mother as his hostage, a fellow who orders his men to fire, a fellow who listens to the heartrending screams of his mother as she begs for mercy, a fellow who delays the execution, a fellow who demands a full confession relating to the complete facts of his father’s death, a mother who breaks loose from the arms imprisoning her and confesses to the whole truth, a mother who explains how her lover dreamed up a plan designed to make the father seem a murderer of his own faithful overseer, a mother who confesses how her husband was actually innocent, a fellow who orders his men to execute his own mother after giving the order to execute the ex-manager, a fellow who completely loses his mind and seeing his mother agonizing on the ground picks up a submachine gun to execute the very soldiers who’ve just riddled her with bullets, a fellow who in turn is immediately executed, a fellow who feels guerrilla bullets burn into his stomach, a fellow who manages to glimpse the accusing eyes of the peasant girl among the faces of the firing squad, a fellow who before dying wants to beg for forgiveness but can no longer utter a word, a fellow who sees in the eyes of the peasant girl an eternal condemnation
a fellow with a plan on his mind, a fellow who accepts his mother’s invitation to visit her in the city, a fellow who lies to his mother assuring her of his opposition to the guerrilla movement, a fellow who dines by candlelight alone with his mother, a fellow who promises his mother to accompany her on a trip to all the fashionable winter resorts like when he was a child just after the war, a mother who goes on about all the eligible young beauties of the European aristocracy, a mother who goes on about all the wealth that he will eventually inherit, a mother who proposes to already place a substantial fortune in her son’s name, a mother who hides the real reason why she can’t accompany him to Europe just yet, a fellow who inquires into the whereabouts of the ex-manager, a fellow who finds out that the same man is actually the brains behind the Ministry of Internal Security, a fellow who finds out that the ex-manager is actually the head of secret service in the office of counterinsurgency operations, a fellow who wants to convince his mother to go off with him to Europe, a fellow who wants to take title to his fortune and repeat his childhood European voyage in order to ski with his lovely mother, a fellow who decides to leave everything behind and fly off with his mother, a fellow whose mother rejects his proposal, a mother who confesses to already having other plans, a mother who has plans to rebuild her own emotional life, a mother who goes to see him off at the airport and confides to him the news of her imminent marriage to the ex-manager, a fellow who pretends to be enthusiastic over the projected marriage, a fellow who gets off the plane at the first stopover and takes a return flight home, a fellow who joins up with the guerrillas in the mountains, a fellow determined to rehabilitate the good name of his father, a fellow who meets up with that same peasant girl who once led him through the sierra when he first met the guerrillas, a fellow who can see that she’s pregnant, a fellow who doesn’t want to have an Indian for a child, a fellow who doesn’t want to mix his blood with the blood of an Indian, a fellow who feels ashamed about all his feelings, a fellow who feels revolted to caress the future mother of his own child, a fellow who doesn’t know how to make up for his faults, a fellow who leads a guerrilla assault against the plantation where his mother and the ex-manager happen to be, a fellow who surrounds the mansion, a fellow who opens fire on his own home, a fellow who opens fire on his own flesh and blood, a fellow who orders the occupants of the house to surrender, a fellow who watches the ex-manager come out of the house hiding like a coward behind the mother as his hostage, a fellow who orders his men to fire, a fellow who listens to the heartrending screams of his mother as she begs for mercy, a fellow who delays the execution, a fellow who demands a full confession relating to the complete facts of his father’s death, a mother who breaks loose from the arms imprisoning her and confesses to the whole truth, a mother who explains how her lover dreamed up a plan designed to make the father seem a murderer of his own faithful overseer, a mother who confesses how her husband was actually innocent, a fellow who orders his men to execute his own mother after giving the order to execute the ex-manager, a fellow who completely loses his mind and seeing his mother agonizing on the ground picks up a submachine gun to execute the very soldiers who’ve just riddled her with bullets, a fellow who in turn is immediately executed, a fellow who feels guerrilla bullets burn into his stomach, a fellow who manages to glimpse the accusing eyes of the peasant girl among the faces of the firing squad, a fellow who before dying wants to beg for forgiveness but can no longer utter a word, a fellow who sees in the eyes of the peasant girl an eternal condemnation
CHAPTER
8
8
MINISTRY OF THE INTERIOR OF THE ARGENTINE REPUBLICPenitentiary of the City of Buenos AiresReport to the Warden, prepared by Staff AssistantsPrisoner 3018, Luis Alberto MolinaSentenced July 20, 1974, by the Honorable Judge Justo José Dalpierre, Criminal Court of the City of Buenos Aires. Condemned to eight years imprisonment for corruption of minors. Lodged in Pavilion B, cell 34, as of July 28, 1974, with sexual offenders Benito Jaramillo, Mario Carlos Bianchi, and David Margulies. Transferred on April 4, 1975, to Pavilion D, cell 7, housing political prisoner Valentin Arregui Paz. Conduct good.Detainee 16115, Valentin Arregui PazArrested October 16, 1972, along Route 5, outside Barrancas, National Guard troops having surrounded group of activists involved in promoting disturbances with strikers at two automotive assembly plants. Both plants situated along said highway. Held under Executive Power of the Federal Government and awaiting judgment. Lodged in Pavilion A, cell 10, with political prisoner Bernardo Giacinti as of November 4, 1974. Took part in hunger strike protesting death of political prisoner Juan Vicente Aparicio while undergoing police interrogation. Moved to solitary confinement for ten days as of March 25, 1975. Transferred on April 4, 1975, to Pavilion D, cell 7, with sexual offender Luis Alberto Molina. Conduct reprehensible, rebellious, reputed instigator of above hunger strike as well as other incidents supposedly protesting lack of hygienic conditions in Pavilion and violation of personal correspondence.
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