Ghosts (9 page)

There was a soap opera that they watched at six. They loved the
story, although, since they weren’t completely stupid, they realized how bad
it was. But that didn’t really matter, as long as they didn’t lose the
thread, and, surprisingly, they never did. Women lived in a world of
stories, according to Elisa, surrounded, smothered, submerged by fascinating
stories. Mother and daughter had watched a good many soap operas over the
years and could safely say that they were all the same, but they didn’t
regret having watched them. The plots always revolved around pregnancy and
money. The link between the two themes was a woman who became wealthy,
immensely wealthy, the better to scorn the man who had got her pregnant when
she was poor. The charm lay in the incongruous balance between the
superfluous and the important. With the benefit of her experience, Elisa
could easily dismiss the questions of money as secondary and concentrate on
the rest. Moving from the relative to the absolute, if only in fiction, made
her happy. (For her daughter it was very different, although equally
enjoyable.) Almost every evening at that time, they would sit down, just the
two of them, in front of the television, to watch the story of young
Esmeralda, who had risen from being a slave, held in secret on an
anachronistic plantation in Costa Rica, to owning vast oilfields on the
Arabian peninsula. They discussed the issues as they arose in the story.
Elisa would try to point out certain things to her daughter, who obstinately
refused to see them, or would only see them from her own point of view. It
was a little one-student school, in which practically nothing was
learned, although you never can tell. The question of pregnancy, for
example, was more complex than it might have seemed at first. Elisa had got
pregnant with Patri when she was as old as Patri was now. The father, so she
said, was the best man in the world. He had disappeared from her life, like
most childhood memories. That was the problem with men: they weren’t
definitive, they weren’t right. But Mom, objected Patri, I’m going to find
the right man in the end, like Esmeralda, I hope. In the end, yes, in the
end, said Elisa emphatically, in the end.... maybe. But not
before. And when you think about it, what’s a pregnancy? She pointed to the
screen: Do you suppose that actress was really pregnant when all this was
happening in the story? Of course not. You have to be very careful not to
mix up truth and lies, reality and fiction. Yeah, but you really got
pregnant, didn’t you? Or were you just an image, a hypothesis? Elisa
laughed. It was true, in a way; that was what she had been. Amazingly her
adolescent daughter had touched on a very deep truth, and yet, at the same
time—there’s always another side to things—it was a
truth composed of silences and suppositions. For example, she had never
confessed the identity of “the best man in the world” to her parents. They
had made an incorrect supposition. In fact, she thought, during a commercial
break between chapters of the soap opera, she had made an incorrect
supposition herself. Because later, a few years later, Raúl Viñas had
appeared in her life, and everything had changed.

There you go, said Patri, as if she had hit on the most convincing
argument: Isn’t he the right one? Her mother replied with a smile. All her
friends and acquaintances knew what a loving couple Elisa and her husband were,
a real example. For just that reason, there was something elusive about their
love. If her daughter found that disconcerting, well, she was sorry, but there
was nothing she could do. Some things took time to understand. And Elisa was as
quick as anyone to recognize her husband’s faults, such as his fondness for
drink. It was no more justifiable than any other vice, but Elisa came up with
good explanations for it. For example, that by drinking glass after glass of
wine, in interminable sessions, Raúl Viñas was gathering momentum in his quest
for the infinite. It was like swallowing the sea, as they say, and what was
wrong with that? It might be terrible to have that kind of thirst, but for those
who don’t, it’s a magnificent spectacle. And another thing: Raúl Viñas was one
the few happy men left on earth, or at least in Chile, where they would have
stayed if Elisa Vicuña’s opinions had carried any weight. Happiness always
brings happiness, and plenitude, in its wake.

But we’re poor, look at how we live, Patri replied, pointing to the
stifling, cramped, unfinished apartment. But that doesn’t matter, girl, why
should that matter? We’re healthy aren’t we, we have enough to eat, and
beautiful children playing happily, and loving relatives and friends? You are
so optimistic
, said Patri, with
the expression of someone confronting an utter impossibility. Her mother was
laughing. Don’t you see, girl. I’ve been lucky. It’s not funny, Mom. But I’m not
joking, sweetie. The thing is to find a real man, even if he has all the faults
in the world. A real man. A real man. She repeated the phrase mechanically as
their conversation languished—the story was beginning again. In all
the splendor of her incredible beauty, the heroine signed the papers that would
make her the legal owner of the Palace of Versailles, which the socialist
government of France had sold to raise money for the development of advanced
technology. This is so absurd, said Patri under her breath. Just like our lives,
said her mother, who hadn’t taken her eyes off the screen. A number of typical
soap-opera clues had led them to suspect that the heroine’s lover, a
Japanese magnate whom she had supposed dead after a crash landing in the Azores,
was about to reappear, and both of them knew that when he did, when he opened
the door.... they would cry.

It must have been around seven, the soap opera had finished on a note
of suspense, relating, of course to Esmeralda’s reproductive system (if she
could be said to
have
one since, in a
sense, she
was
an exquisite and
luxurious reproductive system), and they had switched off the television, when
they heard a din rising from below. Someone’s coming, said Elisa, announcing
only one of the possibilities, although it was rather early for the guests to
start arriving. But as the old saying goes: “Evening’s guests arrive by day.” If
they do, she remarked, they’ll get a splendid reception, with half the family
asleep. Within seconds she recognized the voices of the children, who didn’t
even give them time to get up from their chairs: Juan Sebastián came running in
shouting: Look what Aunty Inés brought me, one for each of us, this one’s mine,
etc. etc. With urgent sign language Elisa implored him to lower the volume. It
was as if the kid had a megaphone in his mouth. Can’t you see the others are
sleeping? Yeah, yeah, OK, he conceded impatiently; but they had to understand,
he was thinking about the presents. He had already put four toy cars on the
table; they were made of plastic and all the same, down to the color: red.
Blanca Isabel came in like a whirlwind and pounced. This one’s mine! They
started shouting again, inevitably. The eldest child had of course taken the
initiative of opening the packet. Each of them seized a car; although the cars
were identical, there was an obvious advantage in being able to choose while the
other two children were asleep. What a surprise they would get, poor suckers,
when they found they could only choose between the two remaining toy cars, which
where indistinguishable from the others! Juan Sebastián and Blanca Isabel
reveled in their triumph. Elisa went to the door, which had been left wide open,
and waited for her sister-in-law, who, influenced somehow by
the soap opera’s delaying tactics, or simply because the children had come
rocketing up, seemed to take forever to appear. Elisa’s curiosity was
particularly piqued because her sister-in-law had arranged
to come with her boyfriend, who still hadn’t met the family. If he had come too,
it was odd that she couldn’t hear them talking. Or maybe they had stopped to
look at the apartments? Maybe she had come early to help, and he’d be turning up
later.

At last the extraordinary Inés Viñas made her appearance.
Predictably, she had climbed the stairs at a leisurely pace and wasn’t even
out of breath. Are you on your own? said Elisa as soon as she saw her.
Roberto’s coming later, dear, I came early to give you a hand. But you
didn’t need to bother, etc. etc. They gave each other a kiss without
interrupting their conversation. You couldn’t find two more typical Chilean
women. And seeing them together, it was striking the way they realized the
type, almost to the point of caricature. The coincidence was especially
notable because they were so physically different. Inés Viñas was quite
short and petite. Her skin had a more olive tone; her hair was a shinier
black, and her cheeks were sunken (while Elisa Vicuña’s were round and
somewhat childlike). She was quite pretty and rather flamboyant, within the
demure limits imposed by her family and nationality. She was wearing stylish
white sandals, an Indian skirt and a blue cotton tee shirt. And long
earrings. You look really well. Not as well as you. No you do, really. Come
off it, can’t you tell I had a cough? What do you mean, a cough? Like I
said, one of these days I’m going to catch pneumonia. She’s so funny this
girl, she kills me! Hi Patri! Patri was extraordinarily Chilean too. Seeing
the three of them together made it even more noticeable. You washed your
hair? See how awful mine is? Come on, mine’s much worse. I told you to be
quiet, you kids! The older children wanted to make off with the toy cars
that belonged to the others. No, said Elisa Vicuña, You leave them there.
Oh, poor things, said Inés Viñas, I’ll wrap them up again. No, don’t, this
little devil ripped the paper. It was already ripped, shrieked the boy. Are
they asleep? asked the guest lowering her voice, which, since she was
Chilean, was already very soft. Your brother too, said Elisa. The three of
them put on highly stylized laughing expressions. They found it seriously
funny. Still napping at seven! All right, off you go, said Elisa. Silly of
me, wasn’t it. Four exactly the same. I didn’t know what to get them. You
shouldn’t have bothered, dear. It wasn’t much of a bother: the same thing
for all four! Inés dear, it’s perfect. Before I forget, I brought something
for you too, Patricita. For me?! Listen, Elisa, Roberto is going to bring
some bottles of wine.... That’s too kind! But you don’t
have to, you know, I’m not a little girl any more. Look, it’s just something
small. Patri removed the gift with great care from the little paper
envelope: it was a bracelet of colored beads. Her pleasure and gratitude
soared to indescribable heights. She put it on straight away, and it looked
very nice on her. What a cute bracelet! They moved on to more general
topics. How about this heat? said Inés Viñas. It doesn’t let up, does it?
asked and confirmed her sister-in-law. There must be a
bit of breeze here, though. Don’t you believe it. Isn’t there? Well, yes,
but only sometimes. That was understandable. What I can’t understand, said
Inés, is why you came to live in this birdcage. They laughed.

Meanwhile, the children had woken up. A bit of crying and moaning:
here we go, said Elisa Vicuña. She went into the bedroom and came back with the
two little monsters, one under each arm, naked and crying, covered with
perspiration. Their aunt gave them a kiss, laughing at the way they were
carrying on. She had an easy manner with children, which calmed them down, and
even these little ones were alert to the word “present.” The two toy cars had
been wrapped up again, and the parcel was on the table. A little bath first,
said Elisa. I’ll give you a hand. No, don’t worry, it won’t take
long...
.
you’ll
see...
.
I’ll just give them a
splash...
.
She went into the bathroom and
poured some water over the children, which woke them up properly. Patri, she
called from the bathroom: Go and tell the others to come for their snack. Patri
went out. Hey, is Javier coming? In a minute, said Elisa. With the whole family.
The two children, with wet hair, were deposited on top of the table, and Ernesto
began to open the parcel. Aunt Inés cuddled them. The little girl was so tiny
and sweet. She’s always smiling, isn’t she! She’s lovely! Elisa was preparing
something in the kitchen. How can I help? asked her
sister-in-law. I’m fine, in a minute I’ll give you their
shoes and you can put them on. Where are they? Hold on, said Elisa, heading for
the bedroom, I’ll get them for you now. As she took the children’s shoes, Inés
said: And that man is still asleep, is he? Uh huh, like a log, takes a fair bit
to wake him up. The two older children came in. You haven’t gone and broken the
cars already, have you? said their mother. No, no! See! They displayed them,
intact. Patri had come in quietly and was looking at the bracelet on her wrist.
Inés Viñas finished putting on the children’s shoes, and told them each to sit
on a chair, with their red toy cars, if they liked (but the best thing, said
Juan Sebastián, is crashing them), while their mother poured them each a big
glass of milk. So you must have bought a fridge, said Inés, looking at the
glasses.... No, no. They’re going to lend us one. This is
special milk, it keeps without a fridge. Oh yes, I know, said Inés.

While the children were busy with their afternoon snack, Inés Viñas
made the following remark: The last time I was here, not even ten days ago, you
could see right through each floor, but today on the way up....
Her sister-in-law interrupted: So you saw the partition
walls? They’ve put most of them up already; they might even have finished. Hey,
can we look at them? At what? At the apartments, dear. Sure, straight away! The
owners won’t come? Why would they come, at this time of day, on New Year’s Eve?
Anyway, Patri put in, they were all here this morning. Were they? Why? I don’t
know, said Elisa.... I think there was a meeting. You wouldn’t
believe how many people there were. We stayed in here, while they came and
went.