Kiss of the Spider Woman (23 page)

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Authors: Manuel Puig

Tags: #Regional.Latin America, #Fiction.Magical Realism, #Fiction.Literature.Modern, #Acclaimed.Horror 100 Best.Index

BOOK: Kiss of the Spider Woman
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—Cut it out.
—What do you mean? I’m just hungry, you know? And somebody’s got to make lunch, so long as you don’t want to poison yourself again with that stuff they serve us . . . Anyway, the potatoes are almost done.
—But if there’s not much left to go, let’s finish it now.
—No, there’s still a lot more left.
—Morning . . .
—How are you? Sleep well?
—Mmm, unbelievably well.
—You did too much reading though. And since that candle is mine, I’ll decide when to put it out next time.
—It’s just that I can’t believe I’m actually able to read again.
—Yes, okay, it’s fine to read in the afternoon and all that; you could read and that was great . . . in the afternoon. But after the lights went out, first thing, you go and overdo it for two more hours with that tiny candle.
—Okay, but I’m a big boy now, right? So let me tend to my own affairs.
—But at night we could have just gone on with the zombies, right? Which I know you liked, don’t tell me you didn’t.
—What time is it?
—It’s eight-fifteen.
—And the guard didn’t come by yet?
—He came with the coffee but you didn’t wake up. Sleeping like a log, you were.
—How fantastic! . . . what a way to sleep . . . But where are the mugs? . . . Say, are you putting me on or something? They’re right where you left them last night.
—Okay, I lied to you, so what? I just thought the guard should stop bringing us coffee in the mornings. And I told him so.
—Look, you can decide for yourself whatever you want, but me, I want my coffee, even if it’s pisswater.
—You don’t have any sense, do you? Whenever you take the prison stuff you get sick, but this way you don’t have to worry, because as long as I have provisions you have provisions, too. And besides I’m expecting a visit from my lawyer today, and my mom’ll probably show up with him like usual, so that means another package for us.
—Honestly, my friend, I don’t like anybody running my life for me.
—What my lawyer has to say today could be important. To tell you the truth, I don’t put much stock in appeals and all that, but if he’s got the kind of pull he says he has, then there may be something to it.
—Let’s hope so.
—Say, if I get out . . . who knows what you’ll wind up with for a cellmate.
—Have you had your breakfast already, Molina?
—No, because I didn’t want to disturb you, while you were sleeping.
—I’ll put some water on for both of us then.
—No! You just stay put, you’re barely recovering. I’ll fix it. And the water’s already on.
—But this is the last day I allow any of this. What are you making?
—A surprise. What were you reading last night?
—Nothing. Political stuff.
—Boy are you communicative . . .
—What time is the lawyer coming?
—He said at eleven . . . And now . . . we open up the little secret package . . . which I’ve been hiding from you . . . something really delicious . . . to have with our cup of tea . . . marble cake!
—Thanks, I don’t want any.
—You don’t want any . . . oh, I’ve heard that before . . . Look, the water’s already starting to boil, so out you go and hurry back, now that the water’s almost ready!
—Don’t be telling me what I have to do . . .
—But, hey, can’t I just coddle you a little bit? . . .
—Cut it out! . . . Christ almighty!!!
—You gone crazy? . . . What the hell’s wrong with you?
—Shut up!!!
—But the marble cake . . .
— . . .
—Look what you did . . .
— . . .
—If we don’t have a stove, we’re done for. And the plate . . .
— . . .
—And the tea . . .
—I’m sorry.
— . . .
—I lost my head, I’m sorry, honestly.
— . . .
—The stove isn’t broken. But the kerosene got knocked over.
— . . .
—Molina, please forgive my damn temper.
— . . .
—Can I pour more kerosene into the bottle?
—Yes.
—And please forgive me, honestly.
—Nothing to forgive.
—Yes there is. All that time I was sick, if it weren’t for you, who knows how I’d have ended up?
—You don’t have to thank me for anything.
—Yes I do. And for a lot, too.
—Forget it, nothing’s the matter.
—Yes there is, obviously, and I’m terribly ashamed.
— . . .
—I’m a real bastard.
— . . .
—Molina, look, I’ll call the guard and while I’m out I’ll fill the pitcher up with water because we’re almost empty. Look at me, will you? Lift your head up.
— . . .
—See, I’m going for some water now. You forgive me?
— . . .
—Please, Molina.
— . . .
 
*
CHAPTER
11
WARDEN
: Fine, Sergeant, you can leave now.
SERGEANT
: Yes, sir.
WARDEN
: Well, Molina, how is it going?
PRISONER
: Fine, sir. Thank you . . .
WARDEN
: What news have you got for me?
PRISONER
: Not much to tell, I’m afraid.
WARDEN
: Hmmm . . .
PRISONER
: But I promise you one thing—each day he opens up more and more with me, that I can tell you . . .
WARDEN
: Hmmm . . .
PRISONER
: Yes sir, that much is for sure . . .
WARDEN
: The unfortunate thing, Molina, is that they’re pressuring me from all sides. And I’m going to let you in on something confidential, so you can understand my position. The pressure is coming right from the top . . . from the Presidency. They want to hear something up there, and soon. What’s more, they’re insisting upon Arregui’s being interrogated again, and thoroughly. You understand my meaning? . . .
PRISONER
: Yes, sir . . . But give me a few more days, don’t interrogated him yet; say he’s too weak, which is true. Because it’ll be worse if he drops dead on them, tell them that.
WARDEN
: Yes, I tell them, but they’re not very convinced.
PRISONER
: Give me just another week, and I’m sure I’ll have some information for you.
WARDEN
: All the information possible, Molina, all of it.
PRISONER
: I have one idea though, sir.
WARDEN
: What’s that?
PRISONER
: I don’t know whether you’ll . . .
WARDEN
: Speak up . . .
PRISONER
: Well, it’s true, Arregui is very tough, but he also has his weaker side . . .
WARDEN
: Yes? . . .
PRISONER
: So . . . for example, if he should find out, for instance . . . Say a guard comes along and announces that they’ll be shifting me into a different cell, because I’m now under a special category, on account of the pardon, or . . . Not so fast yet, on account of the fact that my lawyer has just presented an appeal, then if he thinks they’re putting us into different cells, he’ll probably soften up a lot. Because I think he’s gotten a bit attached to me, so this way he’s bound to loosen up and talk . . .
WARDEN
: You think so?
PRISONER
: I think it’s worth trying.
WARDEN
: I still suspect it was a mistake to tell him about the possibility of a pardon. It’s probably made him put two and two together.
PRISONER
: No, I don’t think so.
WARDEN
: Why not?
PRISONER
: Oh, just a feeling I have . . .
WARDEN
: No, tell me why. You must have some reasons for thinking that.
PRISONER
: Well . . . that way I cover myself too a little.
WARDEN
: How do you mean?
PRISONER
: In the sense that if I finally get out of prison he wouldn’t suspect something and then, next thing I know, get some of his comrades to come looking for me, and take reprisals.
WARDEN
: You know perfectly well he has no contact whatsoever with his comrades.
PRISONER
: That’s what we think.
WARDEN
: He can’t even write them without our seeing the letter first, so what are you frightened about, Molina? You’re getting carried away with yourself.
PRISONER
: But I’m still sure it’s better if he thinks I’m about to be released . . . Because . . .
WARDEN
: Because what?
PRISONER
: Nothing . . .
WARDEN
: I’m asking you a question, Molina. Speak up!
PRISONER
: What can I say . . .
WARDEN
: Speak up, Molina, I want it straight! If we’re not straight with one another, we won’t get anywhere.
PRISONER
: Okay, but it’s nothing, sir, I swear. Just a hunch, that’s all, that maybe if he thinks I’m leaving, he might feel like getting a few things off his chest. That’s the way it goes with prisoners, sir. When a buddy leaves . . . it makes you feel more helpless than ever.
WARDEN
: Have it your own way, Molina, we’ll see you here in a week.
PRISONER
: Thank you, sir.
WARDEN
: But from then on we’ll have to start looking at things in a different light, I’m afraid . . .
PRISONER
: Yes, of course.
WARDEN
: Very good, Molina . . .
PRISONER
: Sir, I’m sorry to . . . well, try your patience . . . but . . .
WARDEN
: What’s the matter?
PRISONER
: Well, I ought to return to my cell with some kind of package, so I’ve made up a small list here—that is, if it’s all right with you. I wrote it while we were waiting outside. Sorry about my handwriting.
WARDEN
: And you think this sort of thing helps?
PRISONER
: I promise you nothing helps more, especially at this point, absolutely . . . I promise you.
WARDEN
: Let me see it.
List of things to go in the package for Molina, please, with everything packed in two brown shopping bags, like my mother carries it:
2 roast chickens
4 baked apples
one pint egg salad
¾ pound fresh ham
¾ pound cooked ham
4 fresh rolls, seedless
one package of tea & a tin of ground coffee
one loaf of rye bread, sliced
2 large packages guava paste
one jar orange marmalade
quart of milk & a Holland cheese
small box salt
4 large pieces assorted glazed fruits
2 marble cakes
one stick butter
jar of mayonnaise and a box of paper napkins
—This is the fresh ham, and this is the cooked. I think I’ll make a sandwich just to have the bread while it’s fresh. But you have what you want.
—Thanks.
—Me, all I’ll do is open up one of these rolls, put a little butter on it, with some ham. And some egg salad. Then afterwards a nice baked apple. And some tea.
—Sounds good.
—And you, break off a piece of chicken if you want and have it while it’s still warm, just go right ahead.
—Thanks, Molina.
—Better that way, right? Each one fixes whatever he wants; that way I don’t aggravate you.

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