We All Loved Cowboys by Carol Bensimon

Author:Carol Bensimon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Transit Books
Published: 2018-12-09T16:00:00+00:00

7.

“I THINK THIS IS THE PLACE YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT,” I said. Julia rearranged herself to get comfortable on the low wall, and as her hips found a new position, for an instant, I felt her entire weight against my thighs. Her knees pointed at the overcast sky.

“What place I talked about?”

We could see the entire town from here. Barely a thing was moving. Cockerels sang who knows why or where. The mine wagons on display in front of Cine Rodeio seemed to be pining for the depths of the world. Behind us stood the aged structure of a billboard. What could it have been trying to sell people forty years earlier?

“Okay, not exactly this place, but like an out-of-the-way place, a place that’s pretty much no place at all, get it? I can’t believe you don’t remember that conversation!”

Julia turned to face me, her hair spilling across my lap. Suddenly, she gave a little laugh that wasn’t a yes or a no. I smiled, resigned.

“I just thought it might be here.”

We sat in silence for a while. We were in a strange part of town; as well as the billboard, there was, on top of the hill, a metal star stuck to a plinth about fifteen feet tall, as well as a tower that was freely inspired by the architecture of medieval castles. A spiral staircase, speckled with rusty holes, circled the exterior.

“Where did we talk about this place thing?”

“In the car. Then in the residence.”

“Was I drunk?”

“Totally.”

“Wild times,” she said, drawing out the syllables.

Wild times indeed. Julia naked in front of me under a bluish light. Her eyes straining to pick out some horrendous detail in the decor, then standing up and walking as if her legs were glued together, trying to hide something that was honestly a waste of time trying to hide, while I said something along the lines of—what was I saying? I was saying: can I have a drink? Everything okay? I never thought you …”

I came back to Minas do Camaquã.

A friend once told me that the ideal length for pendants and necklaces should be determined by what you choose as a “point of interest” (yours to others), and not by any factors such as seasonal trends or your height, so naturally the smart girls chose to nestle their good luck charms, rare bird feathers, stopped clocks and silver turtles in that incomparably delicious region between the breasts. Julia appeared to be following this advice to the letter. And the fact that there was a saint dangling from it, well, I think don’t think that made a whole lot of difference.

I kept watching Julia, Julia watched the town, the town watched the eucalyptus trees, and the eucalyptus trees might well have been striving to catch a glimpse of their home, the distant shores of Oceania. Then I said: “Shall we go back?”

“Sure.”

It was our first day in Minas do Camaquã, if we took into account that the night before we had arrived too late and too tired to do anything other than find the house, eat and sleep.

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