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windows, or rather, let’s be frank and call them slits in the walls, and there was something more urgent than beauty, a new beauty, in the simple strength with which the light filled the room in the clinic, in the way it rewarded us, welcome, it announced, all this clarity is just because, and there was a violent sweetness about that other way of feeling myself a man, I was yelling, my wife gripped my wrists and steered me like a bicycle and I ran, I realized I could ask her for help, why shouldn’t we share this pain too, I thought, and those nurses with quivering breasts, Doctor Riquelme’s white, serious face, the sheets rough with time, the pillow with different layers of perfume and sweat-soaked, my wife whispering in my ear, all of them helping me to be strong, to ask for them to rally around me because a tunnel was rushing along inside me, a miraculous haste was robbing me of my breath and giving me another, two breaths, that’s it, my love, that’s it, breathe the air out slowly, my wife’s contracted lips called me, that’s it, that’s it, she shouted that night in the moist darkness of that hotel heaven-knows-where that suddenly saved us, we’ve rediscovered our innocence, she whispered to me afterward, joined at the shoulders like Siamese twins, that’s it, invade me, she shouted, and I no longer knew who was inside whom, it’s hard for men to love, it’s a risk being the first to feel emotion, to leap into the void without knowing what the reply will be, or where the bicycle is headed, being loved is different, they contemplate us, all comfortable and frozen, in the third person, she loves me, and a third person was precisely what was going to gestate from that night on like a microscopic spider’s web, that’s it, go on, invade me, and at last I could say to her, for once in this fucking life, that I loved her beyond all bounds and the rest did not matter, including her reply, and it was so strange to give oneself, take me, I said to her, and she gave me the mirror of her belly and the anchor of her tongue and her raised thighs but no, I was the one who said take me, letting myself be stirred by the oar of the night, we’ve rediscovered our innocence, she told me, with her shoulder sunk in my shoulder, and it was true that the light came in timid, fragmented under the door like a faint, slightly orange intruder, possibly day was dawning, and then it turned out it was time, they dressed me slowly, observed me in silence, the nurses put on tight rubber gloves as though to preside over a sacrifice, the hour has come, sir, one of the nurses announced, and that word hour hung playfully from one of her nipples down the unexpected channel of her coat, and that nipple was an O, the aureole of the hour of life, we’ve rediscovered our innocence, she had said, and her gesture of consecrated pleasure was the gesture of a woman to come, as if she already knew, and she embraced me like no one had ever done before, I’m so happy, I said, and felt ashamed, then I felt happy at that sense of shame, of that shudder that reached to the tips of my toes, and she kissed me, she kissed my feet and I was very small and was learning to walk, like when she tried to teach me to dance and I was unwilling, you waddle like a duck, she said with a laugh, come on, come and dance, moving around like that is ridiculous, I replied, or I didn’t reply but said it to myself and left her to dance alone, that’s how men without a bike do drink, look at me, clinging to the bar with my exam face and my spilled heart, sir, the hour has come, and at that moment I thought that what I wanted most of all was to teach my son to walk, don’t be scared, I would tell him, this is our music and this is your body, you’ll have to explain to your mother that you’re dancing with me because she’s not going to believe you, come on, my love, move, make more of an effort, at first it was all so slow, the web was growing minutely and seemed to feed off me in exchange for the joy of all the promises, it was all so slow then, and now all of a sudden come on, push hard, my love, push, that was what she said that night of darkness we could touch in that hotel heaven-knows-where that saved us, and I found a canal that climbed her belly and we were filled with a white, thick light, she shouted my name, we both shouted, what are you going to call him? said Doctor Riquelme, trying to distract our attention when he saw how we were suffering or how afraid I was, we haven’t thought of one, replied my wife, we weren’t even sure if it was going to be a boy or a girl, she added, even though she had shown no hesitation over what name to say at the end of the tunnel that opened before us that night, she said my name, as though she was baptizing me, as though up until that moment I had used an assumed name, as though I had not deserved my name until that woman pronounced it differently, we have rediscovered our innocence, she said, lighting a cigarette which also lit the soft night and my heart in the darkness, but not for the pleasure, which is of course redeeming, not so much for the pleasure but for the truth, that canal, I realized, had touched bottom and had bent back on itself to return complete, brimming with two, filled with light, to my own belly, even as far as my astonished chest, someone had given me air, it wasn’t my usual, it was a shared air, one breath inside another, come on, my love, push, you’re nearly there, and the nurses holding my thighs were also breathing deeply, and Doctor Riquelme’s white-speckled nose was twitching, let’s be frank, an ugly nose, go on raise your head, sir, and it will be easier for you, he said, and my furrowed abdomen, germinating, and a tiny shaft of sunlight scratching at the very center of my skin, the way her unpainted nails scratched me, all the way in, my love, she cried to me that night, and was crying to me now in the unpainted room, perfumed with that somewhat guilty furtiveness hospitals have, nearly there, sir, digging her nails into me, and our voices merged, and it was clear that life is more or less love in tandem, that doesn’t exist for its own sake, what is life if there aren’t two wills entwined and a shared pain, it was pulling me apart, the light was pulling me apart and also that night the sheets fell away and it was a different perfume, less furtive, proud, free of guilt, this is who we are and these are our smells, what will be my son’s smell?, will he smell above all of the bemused, sticky cream with which this first life delivers us?, will he slide happily or rather disconcerted down the toboggan of time?, will he accept me?, will I be worthy of his beginning?, what to do with all the meanness and cruelty we drag with us when we give life to a child, when a child gives us light, how do we feel that in spite of everything we deserve another start?, but we will have to offer him that too, all that cruelty and meanness, they are ours and so will be his, we’ve rediscovered innocence, she said, offering me the half-smoked cigarette so I could also participate in that secret smoke taking shape in our bellies, at first in hers, filled by my entering, then in mine, opening up canals, this is how you will be, son, listen, as clean as this light, as dirty as these windows, let’s call them slits in the wall, and you’ll bring me health and we’ll learn together to speak in that tongue that is insufficient, more than ever insufficient now to say to you, come on, let’s dance, get to your feet and walk in me, let’s get on our bikes, here’s the world for you, son, clean and cruel, fragrant and rotten, sincere and deceiving, give it to me new, come on, run, come on, quickly, my wife groaned as if until that moment we had lived as mutes, repeating my name like a discovery, come on, quickly, my love, a little further, take a deep breath, open your legs nice and wide, don’t be afraid, just a little more, sir, the nurse insisted, and the effort of giving was starting to break me, to demand so much of me that I admit I doubted, I thought I couldn’t do it, that I was defeated, and all paths led to that instant, fragmented memories, unspoken words, coincidences, weapons seized, places, lies, a few moments of candor, every angle of time converged on the small axis of my taut belly, strangely round, and then descended to my reddened sex which vibrated pointing toward the ceiling of the room in the clinic just as it had pointed to the ancient ceiling fan in that hotel heavens-knows-where that we re-encountered one another in, me entering her, her coming into me, almost there, my love, don’t stop, and it was my entire body and a balloon of crushed light that were going to explode, a dual abyss I wanted to cross as quickly as possible and at the same time remain watching as I fell, contemplating the river churning white and thick below, beneath my body she ran looking for a way out, I can’t hold on, finish me, my love, let’s put an end to this, I’m collapsing, I can’t bear it anymore, I shouted, calling to her for help and so creating a new fortress, are you afraid? she suddenly asked me during a pause when we were getting our breath back, yes, I’m very scared, I’m so scared I’m even scared of losing the ability to speak along with everything else, do you understand, yes, my love, Doctor Riquelme said push, yes, I understand, that’s why we’re alive, because we’re afraid, and the fearful man I was could push once more against the pain that was pulling inward, that hid its head, and Doctor Riquelme eased my wife aside and looked me in the eye and said we can’t hang on much longer, push harder, don’t give up, and with his gloved hand he took hold of my swollen sex and gripped it, spreading his fingers and squeezing all the way with unexpected
