What Goes Unsaid by Emiliano Monge

Author:Emiliano Monge
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: BIO026000, FIC041000, FIC019000, FIC110000, FIC045000, FIC014000, FIC008000, FIC056000
Publisher: Scribe Publications Pty Ltd
Published: 2022-05-12T00:00:00+00:00

XIII

If we just make a couple of salads and some pasta, we don’t need anything. We don’t have to do any shopping; we won’t need to go out at all.

About ten o’clock. She leaves at nine, but she has to change. There’s no way she’d show up here in her uniform. And it’s not exactly close by, the nearest station to her is a half hour. Maybe more, maybe forty-five minutes.

Yeah, we can start cooking in a little while, we’ve got time. Besides, a couple of salads and some pasta will take me five minutes.

Outside? Are you serious?

Okay, if you like. But I’m telling you, once she gets here, you can’t smoke, not even outside. Belén has no self-control, and even with her asthma she’s bound to ask you for a cigarette.

Well, pour yourself another, but not for me, just for yourself. I’d rather a glass of red wine right now. Better for the guts. Or, at least, less bad. I tell you, having a doctor who’s also a relative is really shit.

Bring the corkscrew, and don’t leave the door open. Goddam dogs, they’re useless, Cabechas here even plays with the cats. If you leave the door open, they’ll get into the house. And cat hair is fucking lethal to Belén, it makes her asthma even worse.

Six, maybe seven, I’ve never counted them.

One day a little cat shows up and then, obviously, she has a litter of kittens. Some go, some stay. They spend all day here, lying around among the pine trees. A while ago, I was thinking of poisoning them, but if Belén found out, she’d kill me. And I’d be scared of doing something that might fuck up Cabechas or Gubia—because then I’d kill myself.

Use the lid, the one you were using before. At this stage, it’s an ashtray. Hey, look over there, shit, just look at the sunlight on the mountains. It’s a glorious afternoon, and it was a great idea to come outside. Now I’ll tell you whatever you want.

What d’you mean, not much? What I’ve told you is what I remember. Or maybe I should say, what’s still in my memory. Look, Emiliano, what I’ve told you about those years is what seemed important at the time. I’m not about to start making things up.

What d’you mean, more details?

What d’you mean, a different way? What other way are you talking about?

Anecdotes? Are you serious? You want me to reel off a few anecdotes? I thought I was talking to a grown man, an intelligent human being. I didn’t realize that what you wanted was tittle-tattle.

But, all right, if that’s what you want, I can sum up those years in three unrelated stories, three bullshit anecdotes. Let’s see what you make of them, let’s just see what you can do with them. Anecdotes—Jesus!—I don’t fucking believe you.

It’s so disappointing. Disappointing and infuriating, Emiliano. You just went and ruined the moment, and with this glorious afternoon sunshine and everything. And there I was trying to be deep.

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