If Ernesto was learned that she had become (how he had become), I never knew, but the fact is that shortly after he moved to El Tala, and all that summer only returned to him once or twice. It was hard to face him. It was as if the idea that in July we had gotten into his head because the idea was his, July, and it was a strange idea disturbing: dirty, make us feel guilty. Not that you were puritanical, no. At that age, and in a place like this, nobody is puritanical. But just for that, because we were not, because we had nothing pure or pious and in the end we looked pretty nearly everyone, is that the idea was something that disturbed. Certain kinds of unspeakable, cruel. Attractive. Especially attractive. was long ago. It was still the Alabama service station that had been built just off the town on the route. The Alabama was a kind of restaurant harmless, harmless day at least, but around midnight it turned into something like a rudimentary club night. Ceased to be rudimentary when the Turk came up to add a few rooms on the first floor and bring women. A woman brought.
- No!
"Yes. A woman.
- Whence brought? July
mysterious assumed this attitude, how well we knew, because he had a particular virtuosity of gesture, words, inflections that were rarely noticeable, and enviable, as a modest provincial Brummel, "and then quietly asked :
- where he is Ernesto Why?
In the field, I said. In the summers Ernesto was going to spend a few weeks to El Tala, and this had been happening since the father, because of what happened to the woman, and would not return to the village. I said on the field, and then asked
- What is about Ernesto? July
took out a cigarette. He smiled.
- Do you know who is the woman who brought the Turk? We looked
. I remembered now the mother of Ernesto. No one spoke. He was gone for four years, with one of those troupes that tour the villages: brazen, said at the time my grandmother. She was cute. Morena and wide: I remembered. And it had much more, who knows if he had forty years.
-whore, right?
There was a silence and that was when we dug July this idea between the eyes. Or, maybe, and had.
"If it was not the mother ...
not say more than that.
Who knows. Perhaps Ernesto learned since that summer only saw it once or twice (later, they say, the father sold everything and no one came to talk about them), and the few times we saw it, was hard to look at it front.
"Guilty of what, che. In the end a woman's life, and three months ago is in Alabama. And if we expect the Turkish bring another, we will die of old age.
Then he, in July, adding that it was only necessary to get a car, going, pay and then tell me, and that if we encouraged them to go with someone who is looking not so Bragueton, and Hannibal and I were not going to let us say that.
"But it's mother.
-Mother. What do you call you mother?: A pig also appear to pigs.
And eats them. "Of course
eats. And then?
"And so what has to do. Ernesto grew up with us.
I said something about the times we had played together, then I was thinking, and someone in a loud voice, made exactly what I was thinking. Perhaps it was me:
-you remember what it was.
course we remembered, for three months that we were coming agreeing. She was dark and wide, there was nothing mothering.
-And half the town already. The only us.
us: the only ones. The argument had the strength of a provocation, and was also a provocation that she had returned. And then, pork, everything seemed easier. Today I think, who knows, that if it had been an ordinary woman, perhaps not have thought seriously about going. Who knows. It was a bit afraid to say, but, secretly, in July we helped to convince us, for the ambiguity, so unspeakable, so monstrously attractive of all that, was, perhaps, that it was the mother of one of us.
"Do not talk crap, dear," said Hannibal.
A week later, in July said that that night would get the car. Hannibal and I waited on the boulevard.
"No it should have paid. "Maybe
backed down.
as I said with contempt, I remember perfectly. However, it was a kind of prayer, perhaps backed down. Hannibal had the strange voice, the voice of indifference:
"I will not wait all night, if in ten minutes does not come, I'm going.
- How is it now?
-Who ... Does the chick?
was about to say, the mother. I noticed it in the face. Tipa said. Ten minutes is a long, hard and then forget when we were playing with Ernesto, and she, the dark woman and wide, we asked if we wanted to stay and have some milk. The dark woman. Wide.
"This is a nastiness, eh.
-you afraid I said.
"Fear not, nothing else.
I shrugged.
"Generally, all these are children. Any mother would be.
not the same. Ernesto we know it.
I said that was not the worst. Ten minutes. The worst thing was that she knew us, and we would look. Yes, I do not know why, but I was convinced of one thing: when she saw us going to pass something.
Hannibal looked like a scared now, and ten minutes is long. Asked
- why do not we check?
was going to answer when I felt a knot in the stomach: the main street came the sound of a car with open exhaust.
"It's July," we said as a duo.
The car took a curve arrogant. Everything about him was arrogant: the buscahuellas, escape. Infused spirits. The bottle also brought infused spirits.
"I stole it to my old.
His eyes were shining. A Hannibal and me after the first drinks, we also shone eyes. We took the Havens Street, towards the crossing. She also eyes sparkled when we were kids, and now seemed that he had seen them shine. And he painted, he painted a lot. The mouth, mostly.
-smoked, remember?
We were all thinking the same thing, since that would not I told you so, but Hannibal: What I said was that yes, I agreed, and added that for a start.
- How much longer?
"Ten minutes.
And ten minutes turned to be long, but now were long exactly the opposite. I do not know. Was it because I remember, we remembered all of that Later when she was cleaning the floor, and it was summer, and cleavage by bending the body is separated, and we had rubbed. July
pressed the accelerator.
"At the end, is a punishment, your voice, Hannibal, was not convincing," revenge on behalf of Ernesto, so it is not whore.
- What punishment or punishment!
Someone, I think I said a bestial obscenity. Of course it was me. The three of us laughed out loud and July accelerated more.
- What if we take it?
- You're out of your mind you! As soon as you click the close I speak Turkish, or made a scene which bars them bowling by disregard for the customer!
At that time there were many people in the bar: a salesman and two or three truck drivers. The people, anyone. And, who knows why, the latter made me feel bold. Unpunished. I winked at the blonde who was behind the counter, Julio, meanwhile, spoke Turkish. The Turk looked at us as if we consider, and the defiant face to put Hannibal realized that he too was feeling bold. Turk told the blonde:
-Take them up.
The blonde up the stairs, I remember her legs. And how she moved her hips to rise. I also remember that I told an indecency, and that girl I answered with another, which (perhaps because we take the brandy in the car, or gin over the counter) caused us a lot of grace. After we were in a room neat, impersonal, almost collection, which had a small table, the waiting room of a dentist. I will see if we pull our teeth. I told the others:
"Let's see if we pull our teeth.
was impossible to help laughing, but trying not to make noise. Things are said very quietly.
-Like Mass, "said Julio, and all seem remarkably funny again, but nothing was as funny as when Hannibal, covering her mouth with a sort of snort, added:
- Look if one of those get the cure from the inside!
My stomach hurt and my throat was dry. Of laughter, I think. But suddenly we were serious. Which was inside out. It was a short, chubby man, looked like a pig. A pig satisfied. Nodding toward the room, nodded, bit his lip and rolled her eyes.
Then, as steps were heard coming down man, Julio asked
- Who goes? We looked
. Until then I had not occurred or had not let happen to me, we'd be alone, separated-that-separate-front it. I shrugged.
"How do I know. Anyone.
For the half-open door he heard the sound of water flowing from a tap. Sink. After a silence and a light that gave us in the face, had just opened the door completely. That was it. We were looking at her, fascinated. The negligee ajar and later that summer before, when he was still the mother of Ernesto and clothing is separated from the body and told us if we wanted to stay and have some milk. Only the woman was blonde now. Blonde and wide. He smiled with a professional smile a smile vaguely infamous.
- Hello?
His voice, unexpectedly, I was startled: it was the same. Something, however, had changed in her, in her voice. The woman smiled and repeated "good", and it was like an order: an order sticky and hot. Maybe that's why the three together, we stood up. Her negligee, I remember, it was dark, almost translucent. I
"I murmured in July, and came forward, resolute.
overtook two steps. just two. Because she looked us full time, and he, suddenly, it stopped. He stopped who knows why: fear, shame or perhaps, or disgust. And there it ended. Because she looked at us and I knew that when we looked, something was going to happen. The three of us had remained motionless, staring at the floor, and seeing us well, faltering, who knows how expensive her face went tran sfigurando slow gradually to acquire a strange and terrible. Yes, because at first, for a few seconds, was perplexed or misunderstanding. Then no. Then he seemed to have understood something darkly and looked at us with fear, torn, questioning. Then I said. He said if something had happened to him, Ernesto. By closing the negligee
said.
Abelardo Castillo (Buenos Aires, 1935) is founder of the journal El Grillo de Papel, continued by The Gold Bug, and the platypus. He has written theater, the other Judas, (1959), and novels, that is thirsty (1985) Chronicle of an insider (1991), but above all, stories in that mix doom, failure and fantasy underground through a subtle narrative tension Some have been translated into English, French, Italian, German, Russian and Polish. Highlight the collections, The other doors (Premio Casa de America 1961) and the crossing of Anacreon (1982). Seix Barral suggestive published The Gospel According to Van Hutten (1999) novel that brings together the political intrigues and theology. 
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