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“Thanks for keeping our secret,” says Marta.
When they board the aircraft, I wave goodbye. I watch anxiously as the plane lifts and almost disappears from my sight. An instructor who stayed down here with me explains hundreds of things.
“Look ... they’re already in the air.”
With my heart in my throat, I see little dots fall. Distressed, I see how the dots get closer and closer, and when I’m about to scream, the parachutes open. I applaud at the precise moment I’m about to have a heart attack. Minutes later, they land, and Sonia and Marta are full of energy. They scream, jump, and embrace. They did it!
I applaud again, but honestly, I don’t know if I’m doing it because they’ve achieved something or because nothing happened to them. Just thinking about what Eric would say, I shiver. When they see me, they run to me and hug me.
At night, when Eric asks me where I’ve been with his mother and sister lately, I lie. I concoct a story in which we go to a spa where they give us chocolate and coconut massages. He’s amused by what I’ve come up with, and I feel bad. Very bad. I don’t like lying, but Sonia and Marta have made me promise. I can’t let them down.
One morning, Frida calls me, and, an hour later, she’s over with little Glen. That little guy is a delight! We chat for hours and she confesses she’s a staunch follower ofEmerald Madness. That makes me laugh. It’s amazing who watches it. After several hours of sharing confidences, I show them the motorcycle and introduce them to Susto.
“Judith, do you want to get Eric mad?”
“No,” I answer, amused. “But he has to accept things I like as much as I accept what he likes, don’t you think?”
“Of course.”
“I hate the guns, but I accept that he’s an Olympic shooter,” I say to justify myself.
“Yes, but he won’t be amused by the bike. Besides, it was Hannah’s and ...”
“Listen, it could be Hannah’s or Jiminy Cricket’s—he’s still going to get angry. I know, and I take responsibility for it. I’ll find the best time to tell him. I am sure that, with sensitivity and tenderness on my part, he’ll understand.”
Frida smiles and looks over at Susto, who’s watching us.
“The little thing couldn’t be uglier, but he has very nice eyes.”
Distracted, I laugh and kiss the poor animal’s head.
“He’s beautiful. Very beautiful,” I say.
“But, well, Judith, this kind of dog isn’t very cute. If you want a dog, I have a friend who breeds some precious dogs.”
“Frida, I don’t want a dog so I can show him off. I want a dog to love, and Susto is affectionate and very sweet.”
“Susto?” she repeats, laughing. “You’re calling him Susto?”
“The first time I saw him, he gave me a tremendous fright,” I cheerfully clarify.
Frida understands. She repeats his name, and he jumps in the air while little Glen laughs. After a while longer, she leaves; we have promised to call and see each other again soon.
In the afternoon, I phone my sister. I haven’t talked to her in a while, and I need to hear her voice.
“Cuchu, what’s the matter?” she asks, on alert.
“Nothing.”
“Oh yes, something’s wrong. You never call me,” she insists.
That makes me laugh. She’s right, but, ready to enjoy my crazy Raquel’s chatter, I respond, “I know. But now that I’m away, I miss you so much.”
“Oh, my cuchufleta ... !” she exclaims.
We talk for a long time. She brings me up to date on her pregnancy, the vomiting and nausea, and, oddly enough, she doesn’t say a word about her usual marital problems. That surprises me. I don’t bring up the subject because that’s a good sign.
When I hang up after an hour of conversation, I’m smiling. I put on my coat and go to the garage. Hearing my whistle, Susto comes out of hiding, and, delighted, I go for a walk with him.