Clean by Alia Trabucco Zeran

Author:Alia Trabucco Zeran [Zerán, Alia Trabucco]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-04-25T17:25:53+00:00

That afternoon I was cleaning the floor, running the damp mop over the wood and then squeezing, squeezing, squeezing until the water came out clean. Yany was asleep in the laundry. Her skin twitched, driving off the flies that regularly landed on her back. The girl was in her room with a fever. Viral, according to the señor. She hadn’t gone to school and she was forbidden to leave her bed. I was to make her lemon and honey, white rice with vegetables, and to keep checking her temperature. And she was to stay put in bed. That’s what her father said, and her mother repeated. I saw my chance and took it.

I don’t know what the girl came to the kitchen for, I only remember her reaction. The door to the laundry room was open and on the other side, there was Yany. Her already feverish eyes lit up even brighter.

Is she yours?

That’s what she asked.

She wasn’t mine, Yany. She wasn’t anyone’s. An animal like that would never belong to anyone, but I replied that she was.

Yes, I said.

And what’s she called?

She was called dog. Damn dog. Fucking dog. Sometimes she was also called pooch, little pup, silly mutt.

But I was silent. I looked at the girl, then at the animal, then back at the girl. I’m not sure where the name came from. Naming is always a mistake.

She’s called Yany, I said.

The girl said she was pretty, although in truth the dog was really quite ugly. Scrawny, scruffy, with decidedly unfriendly eyes. A charmless dog, but I’d grown fond of her and now the girl had discovered her and would tell her mother and father and they’d kick us out, first the dog and then me. I couldn’t breathe. My chest was suddenly full of hot air. My hands and feet were tingling. The only thing that could calm me down was the sound of my own voice. I crouched down in front of the girl and looked her straight in the eyes.

It’s a secret, I told her.

She nodded, gravely. She was an intelligent child, I’ve said it before.

She asked me in a whisper if she could touch the dog, and without waiting for my reply she tiptoed out into the laundry room, knelt down next to Yany and ran her hand over the space between her two ears. I exhaled all the air in my body. I knew, then, that she loved her too. The girl and I both loved Yany. And sometimes in life that’s all you need.

The girl pretended she was still poorly and I covered for her that week. I told the señor and señora that her temperature hadn’t dropped, that she’d vomited twice and was still out of sorts, the poor thing, and so we spent five days together, the three of us.

It was one of the few weeks that Yany visited almost every afternoon. The girl was happy. The dog was too. Everything would be okay as long as the girl didn’t give away our secret.

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