Confession by Martín Kohan

Author:Martín Kohan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: confession;Martín Kohan;charco press
Publisher: Charco Press
Published: 2023-08-07T12:00:39+00:00

II. Airport

At seven a.m., the three of them go out. It is already light, because it’s February. The sky has been clear for a while. They get into the van: two in front, driver and passenger, and the third in the back, the part for cargo. The floor in that section has already been fixed up. A sheet of metal, welded and riveted kind of roughly, is now covering what until recently was just an opening. Whoever is travelling in that part of the vehicle, in the back, no longer needs to grab on as they go. Or rather, they do, but only so as not to be jostled about, not so as to avoid falling into the hole. The hole is the perfect size for any one of their bodies to pass through. Indeed, over the course of a few days, all of their bodies had passed through it. To get out and to get in. To go down and to come back up. Then it had stayed, and it was a danger. When braking suddenly, or hitting a pothole, anyone who lost their balance and slipped in where the uncovered hole was, could end up right on the road, and break something, get seriously hurt, even be trodden on by one of the Citroneta’s wheels. And worse than that, even worse: somebody might notice them.

It’s seven, and they go out. The day has arrived.

They slept there, at Pepe and Érica’s. The four of them had dinner together: Pepe and Érica, David and Martín. There’s no room in the studio apartment, they figured it out as best they could, eating on the floor. And they figured it out as best they could to sleep, too. The cot, a sofa. The floor.

Over dinner, they talked about music. They talked, but most of all Martín talked. And about music but most of all about the piano. About the piano and pianists. Because Martín knew a lot about that: about the piano and pianists. He’s a pianist himself. He plays really well.

He knows a lot about the piano and pianists, and he also knows a lot about explosives. He is admired, among other things, for this, because he combines that class of learning, that of a more refined culture, with clear practical know-how, which allows him to take action. All of them reject a choice of this kind, but not all of them are in a position to overcome it.

Martín is. They don’t just enjoy listening to him talking about Gulda, Richter, even Maurizio Pollini. He didn’t just help by distracting them, on the eve of the operation. He also instilled confidence. He also made them feel surer of themselves.

They chatted, they ate. Then they settled down to try to sleep. The night went by, dawn broke. It’s now seven. They go out.

Martín is in fact the group leader. He is as a result of his standing and his prestige.

But also group isn’t the word. And leader, if you think about it, isn’t either.

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