to somewhere. A few weeks ago they showed up with a van that had a three thousand-liter reservoir. A plastic reservoir inside the van with a pumping system to steal diesel from the trucks. One of those trailers has a thousand-liter tank. You do the math. But if they catch them at it, then what? They won’t do any time. They’re forgiving of thieves, you know, wolves don’t bite other wolves. And at least you can see them. The problem with you bankers is we don’t see you do it.”
He was the spider himself. He ate the lamb while thinking about the brothers. The boy from outside was the same age as the two dead ones; he had come into the restaurant and was sitting at the bar.
Ernest left half of his meal. He felt like he was outside the world, reduced like a plant to the most basic functions: breathing, eating.
The waitress served them dessert and said, laughing, “Miqui, say ‘hi’ to Cloe for me!”
“How did she know?” said Miqui, when she had left. “What a bitch . . . You know how she knows I’m going to see her? Because I didn’t order the garlic mayonnaise.”
Wherever they were and in whatever state, the last thing the two brothers would be thinking about, if they were able to think about anything at all, would be coming back. Yet these two men, his wife, his three daughters, Mr. Cals, all the customers in that restaurant, the survivors of the bombings, these survivors of Saturday’s accident, had all thought at some point about how to stay here, how to escape death, their own death and the deaths of their loved ones, which is the same thing. Escape from it like the brother wanting to leap out of the car at the last minute. But, while the dead knew where to return to and chose not to, the living didn’t know where to go to escape. And they all had fantasies like he did: they imagined strategies, switching places with someone else, leaping from one living body to another like hopping from one rock to the next so as not to fall into the river. That’s what he should have done, rather than having three daughters who chained him to this world. Any of those diners, Miqui himself. . . maybe that’s why he had followed him, maybe that’s why he was here. You take my car, I’ll take your truck, each of us will escape our death; we’ll speed off in opposite directions, we’ll take on the other’s destruction and not our own.
“What happened to the fender?”
“Nothing.”
“Why did you show it to me?”
“I didn’t show you anything. Maybe I didn’t do it, that dent; maybe it was my father before he gave me the truck, in that accident. He just went off the highway, the next day a tow truck came and pulled the truck out, it was nothing, but he’d had enough, it shook him up. That evening he had a heart attack. We didn’t notice a thing; the doctor told us after my dad was dragging himself around like a zombie for weeks. In the meantime, a perfect opportunity for the bank to rip him off.”
How could he explain what he was doing to his wife and daughters? Wasn’t it running away? Can you escape without betrayal? Can you escape?
“Fucking heartless bankers. How can you not have noticed Cindy?” said Miqui. “That’s a wedding ring you’re wearing, right? Do you have any idea why I’ve had such a hard time staying with any one woman? I must’ve had bad luck. Maybe I needed something special. Like a South American chick. That one’s a total fox. A little short, but grade A stuff. Cindy. Just her name gets your motor running. I’m a good catch . . . well . . . I’m a good catch for her. Where’s she from? Bolivia? Paraguay? Exotic, half Indian, with that accent that . . . She talks like us, but she came from the other side of the world. Who knows why. That’s the problem with chicks. You think two guys could ever be as different as a guy and a girl are?”
“Look at us.”
“What’s wrong? I forgive you for being a banker.”
“Don’t count on ever seeing me again.”
“Does she have a boyfriend, Cindy?”
“Cindy is a child.”
“She’s a fox.”
“Leave her alone.”
“Shit. You bankers think you own the world, huh? You’re like civil servants, living like kings at the expense of poor stooges like me and my dad. I bet you have kids. Fuck, I guess you guys have to fill your time somehow. And that potbelly. And that jacket. And deciding who gets close to Cindy and who doesn’t. Unbelievable. What’s wrong, you saw her first or something? My ass. You didn’t even notice her. You have to know how to see girls. It’s not as easy as it looks. It’s something you learn. Now that I’ve spotted her, she’s got you all hot under the collar. Your wife not enough for you, huh? You’ve got some balls. I feel sorry for you, I have to admit. If I were you, I might do the same thing. When I leave here I’m going to see some girlfriends. You wanna come with me?”
“I can just imagine your girlfriends.”
“What’s wrong with my friends?”
“No, thanks.”
“You haven’t seen them. Don’t be in such a rush. You aren’t made of stone. Look how worked up you got over a little spic piece of ass. They’ve got us by the balls, that’s what I always say. They should teach it at school. Strategies for resisting them. Just like you learn not to piss the bed. They should’ve prepared us when we were little.”
“Those girls are kidnapped from their countries. Everyone knows that. They drug them, they beat and rape them, they kidnap them, they threaten to kill their families. They’re found dead on the side of the road and they can’t be identified, nobody knows anything about them. They find them destroyed, twenty-year-old girls, on this highway right here.”
“And if you screw them your dick falls off. You’ve seen too many movies. I’m telling you, none of that is true. It’s not against the law.”
“Because we pretend they don’t exist.”
“Well, if they do exist, I guess they have to eat. It’s a business like any other; life is rough for everyone, except the bankers. Don’t look at me like that. I’m a good guy. I’ve never left without paying. I’ve never hit any of them. Now you’re gonna say that other businesses are different. And that, coming from a banker, for fuck’s sake.”
“Let’s forget about it. But I’d prefer not to see you in Vidreres again.”
“Now you’re the sheriff again. When I’ve got my shotgun, you want me to lend it to you, or what? You’ve got some balls. You’re threatening me, right? You’re threatening me, right, banker? A fucking coward, threatening me? What the hell were you doing there at the tree? Do you talk to the dead or what? Didn’t you say you didn’t know them? That’s spineless. You think about them to avoid thinking about your own fucking life. I know a few guys like you. Starting with my father, or that old guy by the tree. There was a war, poor him! When he was a kid! And he’s still not over it! Shit, what a good deal. Eighty, ninety years later and he’s still thinking about it. My mother died when I was this tall. You see me crying? Do you? No, we won’t forget about it. Come with me to see the girls. Grow a pair, man. It’s all very well that you want to have balls, banker, but you can’t just talk. Come on, shake a leg. You’ll be a big hit in that suit. Let’s go see them. Right after lunch is a good time. You’ll see, all your hang-ups will disappear, just like that.”
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