Renaldo (34 page)

The pilot gently touched the boy’s shoulder and motioned to the stairway.

Renaldo mumbled a barely audible “thank you” to Gordero and

accompanied it with a wave and a smile as he ascended into the jet. Within

minutes they were airborne, an orange juice and black coffee resting on a tray

beside him on the overstuffed couch where he sat.

A very functional piece of furniture
, he thought.
I could not see a man with Astor

Gordero’s prominent credentials, namely his stomach, trying to fit into a regular airline

seat, even a first-class one at that!

He was now alone in the cabin, the attendant having gone forward,

pulling the privacy screen behind her. He gently held the pink envelope to his

nose, searching for her scent. He swore that he could detect the same perfume

that he had basked in the day before. Slowly, lovingly, he opened the envelope

and pulled out its contents.

The two-inch high florescent red letters spelling out ‘Backstage Pass’ leapt

out at him. Set on an elaborately designed black felt background, the pass was

inscribed with the name of the event, the venue, and the date of the World Cup

Gala Concert. Attached to the back of the pass was another of Symca’s oversized

photo cards. This one, however, contained a totally different pose than the one

from the day before. This pose was even more sensual than the first, exposing

part of her left breast. Renaldo strained his eyes to decipher the outline of her

nipple under the sheer leopard skin material. He became aware of a stirring

in his trousers and was forced to readjust his posture, lest the flight attendant

suddenly appear.

Under the flap awaited a message that would cause him increased

discomfort in his midsection.

‘Dearest Renaldo,

Meeting you was the highlight of my day yesterday. I have sent the pass as

promised, but I can’t wait that long to see you again. Here is my home number.

Call me as soon as you get back in town. Happy Holidays. Thinking of you.

Love, Symca. tel: 555–399’

This is unbelievable! She wants to see me? Why me? The lady could have any man

she wanted in the entire country! Heaven help me!

A cloud suddenly appeared on his previously unblemished horizon. His

brow furrowed.
Oh, sweet Jesus, what am I going to tell mother about Symca? She will

15

JAMES McCREATH

think that this is all the Devil’s hand.
He could hear her prayers for divine help

already.

“Hail Mary, sweet Mother of our Savior Jesus, I ask your help in my time

of need. The rock-and-roll star has seduced my precious son into becoming a

football player. My sweet, sensitive, scholastic son, turned into a football player!

Better a murderer or a rapist.” Renaldo intoned the mock prayer to the empty

passenger compartment.

What a predicament I have gotten myself into,
he mused, a half-smile on his

lips.
Best to keep quiet about Symca for the time being. No sense giving Mama a stroke

for a Christmas present. Besides, her interest in me will be fleeting at best
.

It was with mixed emotions that he pondered, in turn, a great lustful

adventure, followed by his eventual dismissal from the superstar’s romantic

considerations as the jet descended into Pergamino.

158

How could things have gone so terribly wrong? Especially after the

holiday reunion had started off so nicely?”

Florencia De Seta sat staring out her bedroom window at Buenos

Requerdos, pondering the unsettling events that had ruined her holiday

merriment. She had spent most of the past two days in bed, fretting about

the future of her newly wayward sons. Even though Lonnie had not arrived

until late Christmas Eve in a state of agitation and with very little good cheer,

Christmas Day had been splendid. The boys had bought both her and Lydia

very thoughtful gifts, excluding the book on political change in Argentina by

some left-wing author who was currently rotting in a state penitentiary. Lonnie

had suggested that it would be ‘enlightening’ reading for both her and Lydia

over the holidays. She much preferred the exquisite leather handbag that was

also a gift from her eldest son.

Oli had prepared her usual holiday feast for the family, and the Christmas

meal turned out to be a happy, boisterous gathering with all the participants in

a festive mood. She had actually gotten a little tipsy as the family sang a variety

of songs and carols to Renaldo’s guitar accompaniment. Even Lonnie seemed to

be enjoying himself, and there was no mention of politics the entire evening.

The tidings of good cheer carried over into the following four days. The boys

took to their horses and explored the outer reaches of the estancia while she and

Lydia relaxed in the warm glow of the holiday spirit.

Then, after dinner on the twenty-ninth, things changed for the worse.

Lonfranco and Renaldo had come to her together and asked to have a family

meeting. Lydia’s inclusion had foreshadowed their need of a sympathetic ear.

The elderly lady was sometimes too much of a free spirit for Florencia’s liking,

and the boys knew this all too well.

Florencia still did not believe the things her sons had said to her in the

heat of that moment. She had not slept well the past two nights, ever since the

fateful family council meeting on the twenty-ninth. Here it was, New Year’s

Eve, and her mood was anything but celebratory. What was upsetting her at

this moment, more than any of the news her sons had to tell her, was that the

knot had reappeared in her stomach. She hadn’t felt its dull pain since Peter’s

death.

JAMES McCREATH

Is this an omen of foreboding?
she ruminated, silently staring at the late

afternoon shower that swept over the Pampas.
Am I to lose someone else, another

loved one?

Lydia had been no help, whatsoever. She had actually encouraged the boys

to “follow their hearts.” What absolute nonsense!
Have I raised two worthless

dreamers as sons? It would certainly appear so. Lydia has refused to even consider the

idea of cutting them off from their trust funds until they come to their senses and return to

school. She is the only one empowered to revoke the trusts that she established for the boys

after their grandfather’s death. The country air has made her brain go soft!

The grandmother had called it “quite sweet” that Lonnie had decided to

take the summer off and travel around the country with his girlfriend.
What

about the extra courses he needs to get into law school? It is that girl from Tucumán that

has poisoned him, turned him in to a great political philosopher. A dope-smoking hippie

bum is more like it!

During some of the discussions at the dinner table, the rhetoric that he was

espousing had been nothing short of political treason. If her eldest son had been

younger, she would have washed his mouth out with soap for preaching such

anarchy against the state. He was blaspheming against the very institutions

that had made their family’s net worth triple in the past three decades. But

even worse were his solutions to the country’s problems: civil disobedience and

guerrilla tactics against the state.

“It is all that damned Celeste Lavalle’s doing,” she cried out in anger.

The pain grew sharper in her stomach. She really did have to see a physician

about this problem. She couldn’t keep sloughing it off as just nerves.

And young Renaldo! Who on earth had gotten hold of him to fill his

brain with such inane thoughts? Argentina’s World Cup soccer team? He is just

a boy, barely shaving. Now he comes to Pergamino with this ridiculous notion

that he is a world-class football player. Why, he cried for me at the first game

he ever went to!

Florencia clutched a hand to her aching midsection. It was raining harder

now, vast sheets of water tumbling down from a dark grey sky. The weather

outside was an exact barometer of her inner disposition. She continued to

ponder the future as she reclined on her bed.

The world has gone crazy. What on earth is happening to my boys? Young Renaldo

acted as if some woman had gotten her hands on him as well. The signs of romantic

infatuation are there for all to see. Loss of appetite, manic swings in temperament, elated

and outgoing one moment, moody and withdrawn the next. Constantly staring at the

telephone, as if hoping with all his heart that it will ring for him. Locked in his room,

playing the guitar and trying to sing those silly love songs for hours on end. What,

sweet Jesus, what, did I do to deserve this? I was going to have one son a lawyer and

the other son a doctor. How those society bitches would have eaten their hearts out then!

160

RENALDO

Now neither of them wants to go back to school. At least Renaldo’s dream of joining

that stupid football team will be short lived. He said that they open training camp in

February. I cannot stop him from going because he is still on summer break, but with

any luck, he can still enroll in his first semester after he is cut from the team. How could

he ever think that he was anywhere near the caliber of player to do such a thing? It

must be that scoundrel Santos. I’ll have a word or two with him when we get back to

town. And what about the lack of respect for their mother’s feelings that they both had

displayed? That hot head Lonnie storming off the estancia, saying that he was never

coming back. That he preferred the company of real people to, to…what did he call us?

‘ Petit bourgeoisie.’ The nerve! At least his brother had the manners to stay here as

planned.. That means I still have an opportunity to convince him to give up this whole

business. He must go back to school where he belongs and forget these childish football

dreams. That damn sport killed his father, and if there is anything that I can do to

prevent it from doing the same thing to my son, I will do it! Tomrrow, I will go to the

chapel in the village and light two candles for their lost, pathetic souls. Please God, help

me show them the way…

Renaldo had noticed the change in his brother the first night Lonnie

arrived at Buenos Requerdos. There was something different about him, about

his mannerisms, his speech. The brothers had not crossed paths the two weeks

prior to arriving at the estancia, Lonnie preferring to stay at Celeste’s flat before

they separated for the holidays.

Florencia had taken early leave of the capital due to unusually high

humidity and pollen counts above normal, which were causing her some

discomfort. Lonnie’s whereabouts the ten days before Christmas had not been

under scrutiny for that reason.

Renaldo had suggested that they ride the range together the day following

Christmas. He told his brother that he had some important news to tell him

out of earshot of his mother and grandmother. Bright and early on a cloudless

twenty-sixth, the De Seta brothers took the food and wine that Oli had prepared

for their trail lunch, saddled up their mounts, and left the main buildings of

the estancia in their dust. The siblings had ridden extensively with their father

when they were young. Their teenage summers were spent under the tutelage

of the senior gauchos, learning the ways of caring for a herd of prized beef cattle

on the Pampas. Renaldo took to this life with great enthusiasm. Lonnie, after a

few summers at Pergamino, decided to spend his holidays in Tigre, working on

his grandfather’s ferry boats and helping out at No Se Preocupe. He still loved

161

JAMES McCREATH

to ride the plains though, and it didn’t take much coaxing for him to join his

younger brother for the day’s outing.

They rode through the flat agricultural lands first, corn and wheat

interspersed in checkerboard fields. Further on, the great herds of cattle were