© 1994 by Daniel San Martín
Translated by Graciela De Sande

I was walking along José Ingenieros, that wild England in Remedios de Escalada that the railway company left to us. I was happy. I don't know why, as my wife had recently decided to put an end to our marriage. After months hearing her saying: "I don't know what is happening to me", it was enough for me to say: "Is there something wrong with me? Don't you love me any more?", to find her in a rush to tell me that I was right. "One day you packed your bags, baby, and stormed out", reads a song by Memphis. But I was not happy because of that, rather all to the contrary. Perhaps my happiness came from the exciting power of a wide street and of high trees, the cobbled paving and a softly sunny day of March or, merely, from the fact that I was tired of crying and had to make a break. It doesn't matter, the fact is that the fattest teenager that I had ever seen in my life was coming in the opposite direction to me. And, in spite of this, she could walk; and she was not ugly, if you didn't take into account her weight. When we crossed paths, I couldn't but say something to her:

-I would grasp all that flesh with such a relish, my beautiful dear!

-Really? -she answered to me while she stopped past.

I felt half ashamed and half funny. I felt ashamed because I could not honor my previous words, and, typically, I try not to talk too much; but she was so cute and the whole situation was so strange to me that, in spite that I was rather taken aback by her reply, I felt comfortable; now my happiness was supported on what was happening.

-Well, yes, I'm serious -I told her-, but it was not me the one who was talking.

She made a disappointing gesture and picked up her elephantine walk. I started walking beside her and kept on talking to her:

-What is your name?

-Lorena -she answered without much interest.

-Well, Lorena, I am serious; I mean, when I told you that of grabbing you.

-Don't pull my leg out, baby, I'm fed up with jokes!

-No, this is not a joke. Let me explain to you. I don't like plump girls...

-I'm more than plump -she interrupted.

-Of course, I can see. I don't like girls who are more than fatty... Is it right, now?

-And then?

-Well, when I told you that, I was in the shoes of a friend of mine. He does like fatty girls...

-Fat girls -she explained, a little bit angry.

-Well: he also likes fat, fat girls. Then I saw you... and I felt that if he had seen you, he would have liked to get hold of you and eat you.

-And that is all? -she asked, this time in a funny tone of voice.

-I was surprised. I felt disturbed for an instant and we ended up laughing together.

After talking to Lorena for a while and answering her questions about my friend, I immediately went to see Fidel, who was the stud that we had been talking about.

-Fidel! -I told him- I have a chick for you! Everything is ready, guy: you see her and you fuck her!

Fidel remained thoughtful, in an attempt to understand what was going around.

-But you are not saying anything to me! -I claimed.

-Who is her? -he asked.

-You don't know her.

-And what about her? Does she know me?

-No, she doesn't.

-Then -looking at me distrustfully- why don't you fuck her?

-And who told you that I didn't!

I could not convince him.

-Nobody -he answered- so I better ask you: did you get laid with your skinny girl?

It was funny that he called her like that.

-No, I didn't, Fidel, because... you know, I have just separated, I'm more asexual than a cabbage: I don't want to feel ashamed. You saw what happened with Romina, who must be the most amazing chick in the world.

Romina was a... goddess, this is the right word. I wouldn't have exaggerated if I had said "the most amazing goddess in the Olympus". After looking at her from my human remoteness, I decided to go up for her and I found myself completely alone. First, I was lucky, as we happened to be naked together under the same blanket, but my genitals had never had suffered from such an acute fit of atheism at the most inappropriate time.

-And what is this girl like? -he started to become interested.

-Well: she's beautiful, nice... I don't know her that much!

-And what about her body?

-Her body... is a little fat, she's some pounds overweight. You know, that must be why I was not much enthusiastic about her! You know that I'm a little bit prejudiced about that.

-How old is she?

-Seventeen.

The pig's eyes lit up.

-Look -he told me-, everything sounds rather funny, but OK, what am I supposed to do?

According to my coordination plan, Lorena would call home that very night. She called me and I told her that everything had been arranged. It had to be an afternoon after (when Fidel left his work and before fetching his kids, as they were staying with him that weekend). We talked on the phone for more than an hour; the twirp was quite pleasant like that, through the fiber optic. In that conversation, she told me that she preferred that the three of us attended the first meeting. Besides, we talked about my separation from Mónica and how I was feeling, and all that.

That Friday, at 4 p.m. sharp, Fidel and myself were sitting at a bar that we had agreed upon. He started to ask questions about Lorena.

-You said she was fatty, how fatty?

-Fidel, you fucked your kids' mother for six year, didn't you?

-Yes, I did...

-Well -I continued- I can assure you that she's not fatter than Concepción.

He thought it over for a moment and tried to infringe my logic.

-And do you know what was Concepción's weight? -he asked me.

Lorena's image touching the doorframe with her sides, released me from answering.

-There she is -I said.

I tried to consider the impression that she had made upon him by scrutinizing my friend's face, but I had never found him so expressionless. I introduced them, we talked for a while, and I told them that I was leaving. According to our agreed plans, they would go to Fidel's from there: if Fidel's bed had withstood Concepción's weight, it would also support that of Lorena. But, when I stood up, she grabbed me by my arm and told me:

-Don't leave; stay with us.

I looked at her doubtfully, and I heard Fidel saying:

-Come on, guy, come home and let's take some mate together.

It was then when I suspected that he was not very enthusiastic about Lorena's body and, besides, I realized that Lorena was afraid. So we left together, the three of us.

When we arrived, Fidel started brewing mate and she went to the ladies'.

-Do you like her, Fidel? -I asked him when we were left alone.

-No, I don't, not at all.

-Why? Now you cannot back out! You would break her heart, the poor little thing has so many complexes, you are going to do her a favor...

-Stop. I didn't say I was going to back out. I don't know. The problem is that I don't like her.

-And why don't you like her! If Concepción...

-Concepción is different: Concepción is fat, but she's somewhat shaped, she looks like a guitar...

I looked at him skeptically.

-Well -he said- like a cello! Or like a double bass, if you want, but she's shaped! This girl, instead... she looks like a small spinning top, she's wider where she's supposed to be narrower.

-I would have never thought that of you: paying attention to physical details and not to how fantastic and nice she is. And, on top of this all, she's virgin, Fidel: don't you feel a little bit enthusiastic about that? She can't transmit you anything! And you are doing good to your neighbor...

I stopped speaking when Lorena opened the door. There were just two hours to go before Fidel left.

-Well -after having had some mate and listened to some music-, now I'm leaving, you have your own story and I have nothing to do with it.

But it happened the same that had occurred at the bar. My intention to leave, decided them to go on according to schedule, but they insisted on my staying in the kitchen. I turned the record player's volume up so as not to hear what might be happening in the bed-room; and, specially for them to know that I was not going to listen to them.

I would estimate that fifteen or twenty minutes later Fidel showed up in the kitchen. He was putting his T-shirt on and I had never before seen such a serious expression in his face.

-What was it like? -I asked him.

-It was nothing -he answered in an attempt to hold his anger-. Nothing happened, I just couldn't.

It was a little bit funny; he was so angry because this was really the first time that this was happening to him. I don't mean that he had never had a sexual problem, but when he did, it had not manifested like this. He had always been a guaranteed erection... up until this time.

-Well -I tried to comfort him- this is a good experience for you to capitalize on.

He looked at me with an I'd-better-not-listen-to-you face and, before schedule, left saying:

-I'll fetch my kids.

And he left me at his home, without any indications about what to do if I wanted to leave. I had not yet reacted to this when Lorena's call was heard:

-Javier!

I put the music off and went. She was naked, lying on the bed. She was overflowing with rolls of fat, like the petals of an animal carnation.

-Come! -she said to me.

Her face was soaked in tears. I was moved, I felt very sorry and responsible. I tried to wipe away her tears with the back of my hand, while she repeated:

-Javier... Javier...

In the semidarkness of the bedroom, that echo which went on repeating my name, had exactly the same sound that it had had for years.

-Javier... Javier... -Mónica used to repeat, holding me tight and looking at me into my eyes.

This meant: "I need you, I need you". But now it was me who needed her: Every day I died for needing her and not having her.

And all of a sudden I understood that the person in front of me, was asking only for a very short time with me, a short time that made her believe that someday there would be a man for her, that there would be a time when she could hit that son-of-a-bitch loneliness with a stick, and that she would also feel that love was like the sun of March leaking through the poplars of José Ingenieros.

I felt mercy for myself. I tried to promise myself that I would take her with me, and I wondered: "Why not?"

I undressed.

And my desire for justice could do

what Romina could not do.

And I could do

what Fidel could not do.