Read Kiss of the Spider Woman Online
Authors: Manuel Puig
Tags: #Regional.Latin America, #Fiction.Magical Realism, #Fiction.Literature.Modern, #Acclaimed.Horror 100 Best.Index
Kiss of the Spider Woman (30 page)
—Poor Valentin, you’re staring at my hands.
—I didn’t realize. I did it automatically.
—Your poor eyes betrayed you, precious love . . .
—Such language . . . So? Quick! tell me something!
—You’ll have to forgive me, but they didn’t bring me any package.
—That’s not your fault . . .
—Oh, Valentin . . .
—What’s wrong?
—Oh, you won’t believe it . . .
—Come on . . . Why all the mystery?
—You’ll never guess . . .
—Come on . . . what happened? Tell me!
—Tomorrow I leave.
—Another cell, huh? . . . What a pisser.
—No, they’re letting me out, I’m free.
—No! . . .
—They’re releasing me on parole.
—But that’s wonderful . . .
—I don’t know . . .
—But it isn’t possible . . . It’s the nicest thing that could happen for you!
—But what about you? . . . Now you’re all alone.
—No, it’s not possible, such a piece of luck, Molina! This is fantastic, really fantastic, do you hear? . . . Tell me, it’s actually the truth, or are you putting me on?
—No, honestly.
—This is fantastic news.
—You’re nice to be feeling happy on my account.
—Yes, I am happy for you, but it’s also for another reason . . . This is fabulous!
—Why, what’s so fabulous . . .
—Molina, you’re going to do something fabulous for me, and I assure you you won’t run the slightest risk in doing it.
—What is it?
—Look . . . in the last few days an extraordinary plan of action has occurred to me, and it was killing me not to be able to pass it on to my comrades. I was racking my brains trying to find some solution . . . and you come along and hand it to me right on a silver platter.
—No, Valentin. I’m no good for that, you’d have to be crazy.
—Listen to me for a minute. It’ll be easy. You just memorize the whole thing, and that’s all there is to it. You’ll be all set.
—No, you’re out of your mind. They can follow me, or anything, just to see if I’m in cahoots with you.
—That’ll be taken care of. You can let a few days go by, a couple of weeks. And I’ll explain to you how to tell if you’re being followed or not.
—No, Valentin, I’ll be out on parole. The least thing and they could lock me up again.
—I swear you won’t be running the slightest risk.
—Valentin, I’m telling you. I don’t want to hear a word of it. Not where they are, not who they are, nothing!
—Wouldn’t you like me to get out of here someday, too?
—Out of here?
—Yes, out of here, free . . .
—Oh, wouldn’t I like that . . .
—Then you have to help me.
—There’s nothing in the world I want more than that. But listen, it’s for your own good I’m telling you . . . Don’t give me any information, don’t tell me anything about your comrades. Because I’m no good at that sort of thing, and if they catch me I’ll wind up telling them everything.
—I’m the one, not you, who is responsible for my comrades. If I ask you to do something, it’s because I know there is no risk involved. All you have to do is let a few days go by, and make a call from a public phone somewhere, not from your house. And arrange to meet at some fake location.
—Some fake location?
—Yes, in case the lines are being tapped on my comrades. That’s why you have to arrange the location by code, for instance you tell them at the Rio Coffee Shop, and they know where that really means, because we always do that over the telephone, you understand? If we mention one place it’s that we’re really saying somewhere else. For instance, the Monumental Theater is actually the house of one of our people, and the Plaza Hotel is a corner in the Boedo district.
—But it scares me, Valentin.
—After I explain it you won’t feel afraid at all. You’ll see how simple it is to pass along a message.
—But if the lines are tapped I’ll be caught myself, won’t I?
—Not if you’re talking from a public phone, and you disguise your voice properly, which is the easiest thing in the world; I’ll teach you how. There are thousands of ways to do it, with a caramel in your mouth, with a toothpick under the tongue . . . Listen, that’s nothing.
—No, Valentin . . .
—We’ll discuss it again later.
—No!
—Whatever you say . . .
— . . .
—What’s the matter?
— . . .
—Don’t turn away . . . Look at me, please.
— . . .
—Don’t bury your head in the pillow, please, I’m asking you.
—Valentin . . .
—What is it?
—It hurts me to leave you all alone.
—None of that. Be happy that you’ll be able to see your mother again, to take care of her. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?
— . . .
—Come on, look at me.
—Don’t touch me . . .
—All right, fine, Molina.
— . . . Will you miss me at all?
—Yes, I’ll miss you.
—Valentin, I made a promise, I don’t know who I promised, God, maybe, although I’m not a believer.
—Mmm . . .
—And it was that what I wanted more than anything in life was to get out of here in order to take care of my mom. And that I’d sacrifice anything for that, that everything to do with me came second, that what I wanted above all was to be able to care for mom. And my wish has been granted.
—Be happy then. You, you’re very generous to think first about someone else, and not yourself. You ought to be proud of that.
—But is it fair, that, Valentin?
—What?
—That I always end up with nothing . . . That I don’t have anything truly my own in life.
—Well, but you have your mother, that’s your responsibility, and you have to assume it.
—I suppose you’re right.
—So then?
—Listen, though. My mom has already had a life, and lived it, and had her husband, and her son, too . . . She’s old already, her life is almost finished now . . .
—Yes, but she’s still alive.
—Yes, and I’m alive, too . . . But when does my life start? When do I strike it lucky, and have something for my own?
—Molina, one has to adjust. You got lucky, you’re getting out of here. Be happy with that. Outside you’ve got the chance to start all over again.
—I want to stay with you. Right now the only thing I want is to stay with you.
— . . .
—Do I embarrass you when I talk like that?
—No . . . Well, yes . . .
—Yes what?
—What you said, it embarrasses me.
—Valentin . . . if I pass along the message you think it can help you get out of here faster?
—Well, it would be a way of helping our cause.
—But it’s not something that could get you out of here right away. You’re telling me that it’s just going to make the revolution happen faster, right?
—Yes, Molina.
—Not that it’s going to get you out for some other reason.
—No, Molina.
— . . .
—Don’t rack your brains over it, forget it. Later we’ll talk.
—There’s not much time left for talking.
—We have the whole night.
— . . .
—And you have to tell me the rest of the film, don’t forget. The last few days you haven’t wanted to tell any more of it.
—It’s that the film makes me really sad.
—Everything’s making you sad.
—You’re right . . . Everything except one thing.
—None of that crap.
—Yes, it’s unfortunate, but that’s how it is. Everything makes me sad, if they change my cell it makes me sad, if they let me out of jail it makes me sad. Everything except one thing.
—On the outside you’ll do fine, you can forget all you went through in prison, you’ll see.
—I don’t want to forget.
—Okay . . . enough of this nonsense! Lay off, please!!!
—I’m sorry.
— . . .
—Please, Valentin, say you forgive me.
— . . .
—I’ll tell you the film, I’ll finish the whole thing if you want. And afterwards I promise I won’t pester you with my problems.
— . . .
—Valentin . . .
—What do you want?
—I’m not going to pass on the message.
—So, fine.
—It’s because I’m afraid that before they let me go they’ll interrogate me, about you.
—Whatever you think.
—Valentin . . .
—What?
—Are you mad at me?
—No.
—Want me to finish the film?
—No, you’re not in the mood.
—Yes I am, if you want I’ll finish.
—It’s not worth it, I can already guess how it ends.
—It ends happily, right?
—I don’t know, Molina.
—See, you don’t know. I’ll finish it for you.
—Whatever you want.
—Where were we?
—I don’t remember.
—Let’s see . . . I think we left off when he discovers that she’s become a prostitute, in order to have money to feed him, and then she realizes that he’s found out about it. Because when she comes home in the morning he’s no longer there.
—Right, that’s where we were.
—So. During all this time the magnate has been searching high and low for her, because he found out how she’s been living in complete poverty, and the guy feels awful about what he’s done to her. And that morning a showy-looking car pulls up in front of the little house by the sea. And it’s the magnate’s chauffeur; he sent him out to look for her. She refuses to talk to him, and awhile later the magnate himself arrives. He tells her to forgive him, because everything he did was out of love, out of desperation from losing her. She tells him what’s happened, crying inconsolably. Then the magnate repents everything, and says that if she’s been capable of such sacrifices, it means she loves that man and she’ll love him forever. And he says, “This belongs to you,” and hands her a case, with all her jewels inside, then kisses her on the forehead and goes away. Then she starts searching madly everywhere for her love, because with the sale of her jewelry she now has plenty of money for him to take the cure with the finest doctors in the very best sanatoriums. But she can’t find him anywhere, until she begins to comb the jails, and all the hospitals. And in a roomful of critically ill patients finally, she spots him. His system is completely shattered, first because of the alcohol, and then because of hunger and exposure. The cold nights spent sleeping on the beach, without anyplace to go. When he sees her he smiles, and asks her to come closer so he can hold her. She kneels down beside the bed and they fling their arms around each other. He tells her how last night he was afraid of dying, because his illness got much worse, but this morning, when he seemed out of danger, he thought, as soon as he felt strong enough he was going to look for her, because nothing was important enough to come between them, and somehow they would manage to start a new life together. Then the girl turns to the sister of mercy standing there at the foot of the bed, as if looking for some confirmation of what he says, that he’ll soon be better. But the nun, almost imperceptibly, shakes her head no. And he goes on talking, saying that he’s been offered some new jobs, on important newspapers, and even the possibility of becoming a correspondent overseas, so now they can go far away, and forget about any more suffering. Slowly the girl begins to realize he is actually delirious from the fever, and terribly ill. He tells her that he’s even composed some new lyrics, but that she’ll have to be the one, for the time being, to sing them, and he whispers one by one the words, and she repeats them, and music plays in the background, as if coming from the sea, because, in his delirium, he imagines he’s with her out on some fishermen’s wharf in the sunlight of a late afternoon. And he tells her the words, and she repeats, “. . . The times I feel sad . . . it’s you I remember . . . The times I feel glad . . . it’s you I remember. If I look at other eyes, if I kiss another’s lips, if I smell some perfume . . . it’s you I remember . . .” and from the wharf they look out on to the horizon, and a schooner is approaching, “. . . I carry you within me, deep inside of me . . . I carry you in my heart, you are a part of me . . .” and the schooner docks alongside there at the little pier for the fishermen, and the captain signals for them to come aboard because they’re going to weigh anchor immediately, to take advantage of the favorable wind, which is going to carry them far off, on a calm sea, and the words continue, “. . . I never thought . . . I could become . . . so obsessed with you . . . I never thought . . . you could steal . . . my heart from me . . . That’s why, my life . . . it’s you I remember . . . whether near or far away, it’s you I remember . . . Whether by night or by day, like a melody . . . that lingers within me . . . it’s you I remember . . .” and he imagines that they’re both there together, on board the schooner, holding one another and staring into the infinite distance, nothing but sea and sky, because the sun’s just gone down below the horizon. And the girl tells him how beautiful she thinks the song is, but he doesn’t answer, he still has his eyes open, and probably the last thing he saw in this life was the two of them on board ship, arm in arm forever, en route to happiness.
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