The estate’s phone had been out since the storm, and Gaspar tried to call his friends from the Entel center in town, but no one answered. They must still be on vacation. Pablo had gone to Mar del Plata with his parents; his mom was now very pregnant. Vicky and Adela still weren’t back from the south. He didn’t go out much beyond that, and he hadn’t gotten to learn how to ride horses. Since he could barely walk, he spent all his time in front of the TV. There were no kids nearby: when he went to the entrance, he could tell the estate was pretty isolated, or at least the park it sat on was very large. Across the dirt road were open fields where a few cows grazed idly and the horses stood very still; they were pretty ugly ones, white and fat with broad feet. He had studied the terrain a little with an eye to escaping, but every night, his plan to break out faded away. He was scared. His father would find him quickly. The scrapes and bruises he had now were nothing compared with what he might do if Gaspar ever did run away.
Tali slept in his dad’s bedroom, and one night, trying not to make any noise, Gaspar sat outside the closed door to listen to what they said. He caught fragments, random words or whole phrases of little importance. Was she his girlfriend now? What did Esteban think? Was he jealous? He learned that Esteban wasn’t going to stay much longer. Tali wanted to know who was going to take care of him “in Buenos Aires” and Gaspar didn’t hear the reply. She was walking around the room: those light steps couldn’t be his father’s. Gaspar closed his eyes and pictured her, with her dark hair pulled back into a very high ponytail, no bra. He felt dizzy when he realized she looked a little like his mother but much, much prettier, at least according to photos. He heard someone, surely Tali, pour water. Now they were talking about the “next attempt.” “Six months is a long time,” Tali was saying. “They already know that the body wasn’t hurt.” Now those were his father’s steps that came closer and it was his father who opened the door, and Gaspar wanted to run away but there was no point. He squeezed his eyes shut and raised his hands to soften the blow, sitting on the floor to await his punishment, but it never came.
“How many times have I told you not to spy on me?”
Gaspar didn’t answer.
“Come in, if you want.”
He obeyed, hopping; the swelling in his foot was completely gone, but it still hurt and, especially, it was stiff: it was going to take time to recover “mobility,” the physiotherapist had told him. Tali was sitting on the bed wearing denim shorts and a striped shirt, like a sailor’s, and her skin was tanned. Her hair was down and her cheeks were flushed. His father kept his distance, as he always did those days. He hadn’t shaved again or cut his hair and he looked dirty, unkempt. He went straight back to bed, and Gaspar stayed standing by the door.
“So?” Juan asked.
“What?”
“What did you hear, what do you want to know?”
Gaspar knew that if he didn’t answer, the blows would come, and he didn’t want his dad to hit him, especially not in front of Tali.
“What’s going to happen in six months?”
Gaspar studied his father’s reaction. There was none. His eyes were sunken in his head, and they even looked dark.
“Graciela wants me to have another operation. It would be more complicated this time: I need a transplant. The operation has been done in Argentina, but so far the results haven’t been good and she wants me to go to the United States. She had a candidate: that’s why we were talking about how my body—or the rest of my organs, let’s say—is in good condition. But the candidate turned out to be incompatible. I don’t feel like explaining what incompatibility is. Look it up in your dictionary. She thinks trying in six months would be ideal and she wants me to go to the U.S. soon.”
“They’re going to give you a transplant?”
“No, because it’s not going to work and I don’t want to do it. I want to die. It’s best for everyone.”
“Juan,” Tali interrupted. “Don’t talk to him like that.”
His father looked furious and weak.
“When I die, I’m going to set you free and maybe you can have a life. Now go. I can’t stand to look at you.”
Gaspar opened the door and heard Tali follow him out, but he didn’t turn around until she called his name and offered her arm to lean on, so he wouldn’t have to limp. They went outside to the park. The night was cool and it seemed like they were alone in the grounds, though the light in Esteban’s room was on and soft music came from his window. They sat on the stone benches decorated with mosaics and Gaspar rested his elbows on the table. He was tired.
“Come with us. Both of you,” he said to Tali. “Don’t leave me alone with him.”
“I can’t, angel,” she replied.
“Esteban says the same thing. You both say you want to, too. Why do you leave him alone?”
The music coming from Esteban’s room stopped and silence fell over the park, barely caressed by the splash of nocturnal insects in the pool and the distant hum of a fan. Tali said simply, Your dad wants to be with you. He wants you with him and no one else. Gaspar felt defiance hardening his stomach. Let him die alone, he thought. Someone was walking through the park. Esteban. Gaspar turned around to watch him approach: his gray hair shone under the moon.
“I don’t want to stay with him,” Gaspar told him. “Please.”
“Look,” said Esteban. “The only thing your father has done to you, in all the time I’ve known you both, is protect you. From your family, even, who are bad people. His ways, son, I question as well, but you’re leaving this place with him. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Your uncle will come soon. You won’t be alone with your dad. And Luis is your family, your real family.”
“Dad always says that my mom’s side of the family aren’t good people and they don’t want to see me. That’s true, then?”
“It’s the honest truth,” said Esteban. “They’re among the worst people in this country, or anywhere. They’re the worst, period. They aren’t your family, even if you have their blood.”
“And what are you two?”
Tali and Esteban looked at each other and Gaspar saw them smile, but he didn’t understand why. Tali said, We’re friends. And Esteban added, as he lit a cigarette: Friends you’ll hopefully never need.
The green river at Los Alerces wasn’t as green as people said. It was more like a greenish turquoise. But Vicky wasn’t disappointed, especially not when Adela was so happy walking along the shore, shouting for photos. Trips with her family were always entertaining, but this one with Adela and Betty was especially fun. They joined in when everyone sang in the RV, which had a cassette player, and they both liked stopping at grills along the highway. Vicky also realized something about Betty that she hadn’t noticed before. She was elegant, she had something to say in every conversation, and her strange face, with its long nose and narrow lips, was pretty, or at least interesting, as her grandmother would say. She always wore long skirts and beautiful rings that looked expensive. And her political opinions were stronger than Vicky’s mom’s. When they got stopped on the highway, for example, and the policeman asked for the RV’s papers, Betty stuck her head out the window and told the policeman that yes, they could ask for a license and registration, but definitely not for their personal IDs. The military isn’t in power anymore, got it? she shouted contemptuously. Vicky saw her father motion her to be quiet, and Betty sat back down. She was furious. Her narrow lips had become two pale lines over her sharp teeth. When she lit a cigarette, her hands were shaking.