Kiss of the Spider Woman (5 page)
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
—Nothing to be sorry about.
—Fine, then relax and don’t try to punish me.
—Punish you? You’re out of your mind.
—Act as if nothing happened, then.
—Want me to go on with the film?
—Sure, man.
—Man? Where’s a man? Don’t let him go.
—Okay, cut the jokes and get on with the story.
—Where were we . . . ?
—Where my girlfriend the assistant didn’t hear the woman’s footsteps anymore.
—Right, at this point she begins really shaking with terror, she has no idea what to do, doesn’t dare turn around for fear of seeing the panther woman, stops a minute to see if she can hear the human footsteps anymore, but nothing, total silence, only the rustling of leaves moved by the wind . . . or by something else. Then she lets out a long, desperate wail somewhere between a sob and a moan, but the wail is drowned out by the noise of automatic doors on the bus that’s just stopped in front of her; those hydraulic doors that sound like some kind of air pump, and she’s safe. The driver saw her standing there and opened the doors; he asks her what’s the matter, but she says it’s nothing, she just doesn’t feel well, that’s all. And she gets on . . . All right, and when Irena gets back home she’s totally disheveled, shoes filthy with mud. The architect’s completely at a loss; doesn’t know what to say, what to do with this weirdo he’s married to. She walks in, looks at him strangely, goes into the bathroom to take off her muddy shoes, and he finally has the guts to talk to her because she’s not looking at him, and she hears what he’s saying to her, about how he went to meet her at the doctor’s office and found out she hadn’t been there in a long time. Then she starts crying and says how everything’s ruined, that she’s what she’s always been afraid of being, an insane person, suffering from hallucinations, or worse even—a panther woman. Then he calms her down all over again, and takes her in his arms, and you’re right, to him she’s just like a baby, because when he sees her that way, so defenseless, so lost, he feels all over again how he loves her with all his heart, and lets her head rest on one shoulder, his shoulder I mean, and strokes her hair and tells her she’s got to have faith, everything’s going to work out okay.
—It makes sense, this film.
—But there’s more, it’s not finished.
—I hope so, it can’t just stop there. But you know what I like about it? That it’s just like an allegory, and really clear too, of the woman’s fear of giving in to a man, because by completely giving in to sex she reverts a little to an animal, you know?
—We’ll see . . .
—There’s that type of woman, very sensitive, way too spiritual, who’s been brought up on the idea that sex is dirty, that it’s sinful, and this type of chick is screwed up, completely screwed up, most likely she turns out frigid when she gets married, because inside she’s got this barrier, they’ve made her put up a kind of barrier, or wall, and not even bullets get through.
—Not to mention other things.
—Now that I’m serious, you’re the one who’s making jokes, see how it is, you too?
—Go ahead, O voice of wisdom.
—That’s all. Go on with the panther woman.
—Okay, the problem is how’s he going to convince her she’s got to have faith and go back and see the doctor again.
—Me, you mean.
—Right, but then she tells him there’s something about the doctor she doesn’t like.
—Sure, because if he cures her, she’ll have to give in to marital life, to sex.
—But her husband convinces her to go back. And she does, even though she’s afraid to.
—Know what scares her most of all?
—What?
—Doctor’s the sensual type—you said so yourself.
—Mmm-hmm.
—And that’s just the problem, because he turns her on, and on account of that she won’t give in to any treatment.
—Fine, so she goes to the doctor’s office. And she confides to him in all sincerity, tells him her greatest fear is of kissing a man and turning into a panther. And here’s where the doctor makes a mistake and tries to remove her fear by showing how unafraid he is himself, how sure he is she’s an enchanting woman, an adorable woman and that’s all. I mean the guy chooses a somewhat dubious treatment, letting his desires get the best of him because he’s actually looking for some way to kiss her, that’s what he’s looking for. But she doesn’t fall for it; she has just the opposite response, that yes, the doctor’s right and she’s normal and so she leaves his office right then and goes away satisfied, goes straight to the architect’s studio, as if with the intention, the decision already made, of giving herself to her husband that very night. She’s happy, and runs all the way, and gets there almost out of breath. But in the doorway she’s suddenly paralyzed. It’s late already and everyone’s gone home, except her husband and the assistant, and they seem to be talking, holding hands, but you can’t tell if it’s a friendly gesture or what. He’s talking, with his eyes lowered, while the assistant listens to him knowingly. They have no idea someone’s walked in. And here my memory’s foggy.
—Wait a second, it’ll come back to you.
—I remember there’s a scene in a swimming pool, and another right there in the architect’s studio, and still another, the last, with the psychiatrist.
—Don’t tell me that at the end the panther woman winds up with me.
—No. Don’t rush. Anyway, I can tell you this whole last part in a very sketchy way if you want, as much as I remember of it.
—Sure.
—So, he and the other one are busy talking there in the studio, and they stop talking because they hear a door creak. They look up and nobody’s there; it’s dark in the studio, there’s no other light than the table they’re at, with that slightly sinister glare coming from below. And you hear an animal’s footsteps, rustling papers underfoot and, yes, now I remember, there’s a wastepaper basket in a dark corner and the basket tumbles over and the footsteps crumple some papers. The assistant screams out and hides behind him. He yells, “Who’s there? Who is it?” and now, for the first time, you hear an animal’s heavy breathing, like a snarl with the teeth clenched, you see? The architect has no idea what to defend himself with and grabs one of those big rulers. And you realize that unconsciously or whatever, he remembers what Irena’s told him, how the sign of the cross can frighten both the Devil and the panther woman, and the light from under the table casts gigantic shadows on the wall, of him with the assistant hanging onto him, and a few feet away the shadow of a beast with a long tail, and it looks like the architect’s holding up a cross in his hands—which is nothing but two drafting rulers he’s put together like a cross. But suddenly you hear a horrible growl and footsteps of a frightened animal escaping into the darkness. Anyway, I don’t remember if what happens now is that same night, I think so, the other one goes home again, which is like a very big hotel for women, some kind of women’s club, where they live, with a big swimming pool in the basement. The assistant’s so nervous, on account of everything that’s happened, and returning to her hotel tonight, where they don’t allow male visitors, she thinks the best thing might be to go down and take a swim for a little while to calm her nerves, because she’s so on edge. It’s already very late at night and there’s absolutely no one in the pool. They have changing rooms down there and she’s got her own locker where she hangs her clothes and puts on her bathing suit and bathrobe. Meanwhile, upstairs in the hotel the front door opens and in comes Irena! She asks the woman at the desk about the other one, and, without suspecting anything, the woman tells her the other one just went down to the pool. And because she’s a woman, Irena has no problem getting in, they just let her by and that’s that. Down below the pool’s totally dark; the other one comes out of the changing room and switches on some lights inside the pool, below the surface of the water. She’s fixing her hair to fit inside her bathing cap when she hears footsteps. She asks, kind of alarmed, if it’s the attendant. No answer. Then she gets really terrified, throws off her bathrobe and dives in. From the middle of the water she peers toward the sides of the pool, still in darkness, and now you hear the snarling of some wild black beast pacing furiously, you can barely make it out, but a shadow’s moving, sort of slipping along the edges of the pool. The snarls can hardly be heard, they’re always snarls like with the teeth clenched, and those green eyes glitter watching the other one in the pool who now really starts screaming like crazy. At this the attendant comes running downstairs and turns on all the lights, asking her what’s the matter. No one else is there, why all the screaming? The other one’s completely embarrassed, doesn’t know how to explain why she’s so frightened; imagine what’ll happen if she says some panther woman got in down there. And so she says she thought somebody was there, an animal prowling around. And the woman on duty looks at her as if to say listen to this dope talking, some friend comes to see her so she’s shaking all over, just because she hears some footsteps, and there the two of them are when they notice the bathrobe on the floor, ripped to shreds, and the tracks of an animal, from having stepped in the puddles . . . Are you listening to me?
—Yeah, but I don’t know why I can’t get something out of my head tonight.
—What?
—Nothing, I can’t concentrate . . .
—But come on, open up a little.
—I’m just thinking about my girl.
—What’s her name?
—That’s not the point. Look, I never talk to you about her, but I’m always thinking about her.
—How come she doesn’t write to you?
—How do you know if she writes or not! I could say I’m getting letters from somebody else and they’re hers. Or are you going through my stuff when I’m taking a shower?
—You’re crazy, Valentin. But you never showed me a letter from her.
—Well, I don’t like to talk about this ever, but, I don’t know, just now I felt like discussing something with you . . . When you started talking about the panther woman’s following the assistant around, I got scared.
—What scared you?
—I wasn’t afraid for myself but for my girl.
—Ah . . .
—I must be nuts, bringing this subject up.
—Why? Talk if you feel like it . . .
—When you started telling how the girl was being followed by the panther woman, I pictured that it was my girl who was in danger. And I feel so helpless here, about warning her to be careful, about not taking too many risks.
—I understand.
—Well, you can imagine, if she’s my woman, it’s because she’s in the struggle too. Although I shouldn’t be telling you, Molina.
—Don’t worry.
—It’s just that I don’t want to saddle you with any information you’re better off not having. It’s a burden, and you’ve already got enough of your own.
—Me too, you know, I have that sensation, from being in here, of not being able to do anything; but in my case it’s not a woman—not a girl I mean, it’s my mother.
—Your mother’s not all alone, or is she?
—Well, she’s with an aunt of mine, my father’s sister. But it’s just that she’s so sick. She’s got high blood pressure and her heart’s weak.
—But, you know, with that kind of thing you can still go on, sometimes for years and years . . .
—But you still have to avoid upsetting them, Valentin.
—Why do you say that?
—Imagine, the shame of having a son in prison. And the reason.
—Don’t think about it. The worst’s over, right? Now she’s got to accept it, that’s all.
—But she misses me so much. We’ve always been very close.
—Try not to think about it. Or if not . . . accept the fact that she’s not in any danger, like the person I love.
—But she’s got the danger inside, she carries the enemy around inside, it’s that weak heart of hers.
—She’s waiting for you, she knows you’re going to get out of here, eight years do go by, and there’s always the hope of time off for good conduct and all. That will give her the strength to wait for you, think of it that way.
—Mmm-hmm, you’re right.
—Otherwise, you’ll go crazy.
—Tell me more about your girlfriend, if you feel like it . . .
—What can I tell you? Nothing in common with the assistant; I don’t know why I put the two together.
—Is she pretty?
—Yeah, sure.
—She could be ugly—what are you laughing at, Valentin?
—Nothing, I don’t know why I’m laughing.
—But what strikes you so funny?
—I don’t know . . .
—Must be something . . . something to laugh at.
—At you, and me.
—Why?
—I don’t know; let me think about it, because I couldn’t explain it to you anyway.
—Okay, just stop laughing.
—Better I tell you when I really know why I was laughing.
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