The Days of the Rainbow (21 page)

“Despite that. It’s such a tender thing. Imagine—here we are, you and I, happy with life, looking together at the future of our nation. Me, next to my pampered grandson, and you accompanying the young Santos. By the way, I can’t believe you beat us with such a stupid waltz.”

“A stupid waltz, Minister?”

“A waltz super super stupid, Bettini! We can’t deny it!”

“Dr. Fernández, are you familiar with
Actuel
, the French magazine?”

“What makes you think that?
Je ne parle pas français!
”

“They’ve just published an issue with all the songs that changed the course of history in the last fifty years.”

“You’re kidding! And they included the stupid ‘Waltz of the
No’
!”

“Exactly, Minister. It’s the 1988 song.”

“And who were the other years’ winners?”

“Jim Morrison, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones.”

“And what are you creating right now?”

“No more songs, Minister. The next step is to win the elections with Olwyn and then send Pinochet to jail.”

Fernández laughed so loudly that the audience looked at him. Even the principal gave him a look full of reproach.

“Hmm. I screwed up, it seems. To put Pinochet in jail?” he said in a low voice. “You won’t be able, Bettini.”

“We will, Dr. Fernández.”

“No, no, no. It feels so good to say no …”

“Yes, yes, yes. We’ll be able to do it.”

“No, no, no. My general won’t be touched, not even with a lady’s petal.”

Now it was Nico Santos’s turn to receive his diploma. Patricia Bettini stood up and applauded, and the audience had the opportunity to admire her Armani dress. Adrián Bettini stood up, shouting, “Bravo,” and Professor Santos scratched his head while holding an unlit cigarette between his lips.

Former Minister Fernández rose, too, and applauded Nico along with Bettini.

“We’ll be back in power, Bettini,” he whispered in his ear. “Step by step, little by little, one step at a time, one little vote at a time.”

“That’s the good thing about democracy, Minister. We had to earn it with blood, sweat, and tears, and you and people like you will able to enjoy it without the slightest effort. And one day, the statistical exaggeration will favor you instead. Those are the rules of the game. Good for you, Minister. All that matters is that you don’t go around killing people.”

“Don’t dwell in the past, my friend. The crisis has been largely overcome. Do you remember when the people asked the armed forces to intervene and impose order? When they cried for a Pinochet?”

“Did you study at the institute, Dr. Fernández?”

“And proud of it! I belong to the Alumni Center Committee.”

“Who was your Spanish teacher?”

“Don Clemente Canales Toro.”

“So you surely studied the Archpriest of Hita with him.”

“I remember it vaguely.”

“A medieval author. Do you remember? Don Clemente Canales authored the modern Spanish version of the
Book of Good Love
.”

“Sure! Very entertaining! There was a part called ‘Praise of the Small Women,’ right?”

“Bravo! And, by chance, do you remember the fable of the frogs? They were unhappy and demanded that the god Jupiter send them a new king.”

“I don’t remember.”

“So Jupiter sends them a stork that eats two frogs at a time in a single gulp.”

“Hmm. Where are you going with this story?”

“You’ll see. The frogs that survive go to Jupiter and complain: ‘The king you gave us because we foolishly asked you to gives us bad nights and very bad mornings.’ Do you want me to explain the fable to you?”

Dr. Fernández brushed off some lint stuck on his lapel with his right hand.

“It’s not necessary, Bettini. Like you said, democracy is a statistical exaggeration.”

“
You
are the one who says that.”

“That’s true. Life is like a game. Now it’s your turn to be ‘it.’ The challenge, if you win the elections, is to do something to overcome this naughty situation in which people are stigmatized, depending on whether they voted
Yes
or
No
. You must be modern and accept differences.”

“You can accept whatever you want to. I won’t. The rivalry between
Yes
and
No
will remain for a long time, because it’s a matter of life or death. Those who think differently are either allowed to live or they’re killed. I will never forget what happened.”

“That’s interesting. As for myself, I already forgot it.”

“You’re very modern,
Former
Minister.”

The man started to applaud enthusiastically. Two beautiful hostesses were calling his grandson to receive his diploma from the hands of the principal.

Bettini wiped the palms of his hands on his thighs, raised them, and joined the minister in his applause.

“So, the fable of the frogs, Bettini.”

“The fable of the frogs,” Adrián Bettini repeated, applauding affectionately.