The Infatuations by Marías Javier

Author:Marías, Javier [Marías, Javier]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3, epub
ISBN: 9780241958506
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2013-03-06T13:00:00+00:00

I took a deep breath and opened the door, ready to play my part, and I knew then that I was already blushing, even before Ruibérriz had entered my field of vision, because I knew he was about to see me in a bra and tight skirt and I found it embarrassing to appear like that before a stranger who had already made the worst possible impression on me. Perhaps all that heat came, in part, from what I had just overheard, from the mixture of indignation and horror that my encircling sense of incredulity did nothing to diminish; I was, at any rate, extremely upset and troubled, filled by confused feelings and thoughts.

The two men were standing up and both of them immediately glanced round, they obviously hadn’t heard me putting on my shoes or anything. In Díaz-Varela’s eyes I noted an immediate coldness or mistrust, censure and even severity. In Ruibérriz’s I saw only surprise and a flicker of male appreciation, which is easy enough to spot and which he doubtless made no effort to conceal, for some men’s eyes are very quick to make such evaluations, a reflex action they can’t avoid, they’re even capable of ogling the bare thighs of a woman who has been involved in a car accident and is still lying, all bloody, on the road, or of staring at the hint of cleavage revealed by the woman who crouches down to help them if they happen to be the injured party, it’s beyond their will to control or perhaps it has nothing to do with will at all, it’s a way of being in the world that will last until the day they die, and before closing their eyes for ever, their gaze will linger appreciatively on the nurse’s knee, even if she’s wearing lumpy white tights.

Instinctively, and feeling genuinely embarrassed, I covered myself with my hands, but what I didn’t do was turn on my heel and disappear at once, because I felt that I should say something, give voice to my embarrassment and shock. This proved less spontaneous.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I said to Díaz-Varela, ‘I didn’t know anyone was here. Forgive me, I’ll go and put something on.’

‘It’s all right, I was just leaving,’ said Ruibérriz, holding out his hand to me.

‘Ruibérriz, a friend,’ Díaz-Varela said, introducing me in stark, awkward fashion: ‘This is María.’ Like Luisa, he failed to give my surname, but he possibly did so consciously, to provide me with a minimum of protection.

‘Ruibérriz de Torres,’ added the introducee, ‘delighted to meet you.’ He was clearly keen to highlight that ‘de’ with its hypothetically noble connotations, and continued to hold out his hand.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ I said, rapidly shaking his hand – his eyes flew straight to the one breast left momentarily uncovered – then hurried back into the bedroom, leaving the door open to make it clear that I intended rejoining them, the visitor would hardly leave without saying goodbye to someone he could still see.

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