Renaldo (37 page)

you are really not missing out on anything special if you return to the capital.

It is up to your mother, but I see no harm in you following your dreams, at least

until university starts.”

Relief was written all over Renaldo’s face. The icy stare that Florencia was

directing at her mother-in-law did not go unnoticed by him however.

“I cannot give you an answer on this matter right away. You have caught

me totally off-guard, Renaldo, and therefore, it is only fair for you to let me

ponder the question for a time. You know how I feel about that sport and the

lecherous people involved in it. You have such a bright academic future ahead

of you. It really is a mystery why you would want to get involved with that

peasant’s game at all. I will consider the matter!”

The lady’s stare would have melted a block of ice as she turned her

attention to her eldest son.

“Lonfranco, what do you have to say to us tonight? I hope it is a more

constructive plan than your brother’s.”

“No, Mama, I don’t think that you will consider what I have to say to you

constructive at all.”

Lonnie had been doing a slow burn listening silently to his mother

interrogate Renaldo as if he were a five-year-old. He was barely able to hold his

temper when it was his turn to be heard.

10

RENALDO

“I will not be taking any extra courses this summer, Mama. Celeste and

I are going to Tucumán to meet her parents, then we will be traveling for the

balance of the school break. I do not ask for your blessing, for I am not a young

child that needs it. I am strictly informing you of my intentions, that is all.”

His tone of voice was off-hand, almost hostile. Even Renaldo was taken

aback at the forcefulness of his statement. So much for the well rehearsed, kid-

glove approach they had each agreed to take. Florencia was flushed with anger,

unable to form a response for several moments.

“How dare that little whore ruin your life! And you, you thickheaded

imbecile! Can’t you see that she is just a social climber after your money?”

Florencia glanced over at her mother-in-law, hoping for a supportive

gesture. When it was not forthcoming, she leveled both barrels at her son.

“Men! One sniff of a woman and they become useless. Their minds all

turn to manure. I had hoped for much better than this for you, Lonfranco. You

are a great disappointment to me!”

“Whore? How dare you call Celeste a whore! Why she has more brains in

her baby toe than you have in that bourgeois head of yours, Mama.”

Renaldo feared that his brother was on the verge of physical violence. He

acted instinctively to head off further unpleasantness.

“Lonnie, calm down a minute, just wait! Mama, it is only for the summer

that he is talking about. He will still be going back to university. What is the

harm of him seeing a bit of the country for the summer?” Florencia was beyond

listening to reason though.

“You don’t know about women, Renaldo. Just wait until you fall in love.

Then you will probably come to me with some hairbrained idea like this, too.

Where is the respect for your family, my sons? Where is your respect for me?”

“At least we had the courtesy to have this talk with you, Mama. The

way you put Renaldo down, though, you’re lucky I even stayed around to tell

you what my plans were. You have to let us go, Mama. We are not children

anymore. There is a whole world beyond the high walls of your beloved Porteño

society. It’s a pity you will never let your petit bourgeoisie facade down long

enough to experience it.”

One could have cut the tension in the room with a knife. All of the

brother’s best made plans for a ‘civil’ family chat had blown up in their faces.

“I am going now, and I won’t be back! When I return to the capital, I

will send for my possessions. I wish you were not so set in your ways, Mama,

for it will bring you nothing but heartache. And if I ever hear you call Celeste

a whore again, I will kill you! Do you understand me?”

Lonnie was shaking with rage as he turned and fled the parlor without

saying another word. Renaldo watched in total disbelief, too shocked to make

amends for his brother’s lack of tact.

11

JAMES McCREATH

Lydia tried to reassure the younger woman not to put much stock in her

impetuous son’s passion-driven insults. Florencia rose slowly from her chair,

looked at the two remaining family members, shook her head sadly and started

toward her bedroom. When she was almost out the doorway, she turned to

address Renaldo and Lydia.

“This is a sad day for our family, a very sad day! I had so much hope for

my sons. Now, now things will never be as I had dreamed. I have failed as a

mother! When my own flesh and blood threatens to take my life, I have failed

as a mother. This is a black, black day!”

12

Astor Gordero speaking. Is that you, Renaldo?”

“Yes, Señor Gordero, I am back in Buenos Aires, and I thought that

we might talk about you handling my affairs while I am with the

World Cup team.”

“Certainly, my boy, let me check my schedule here. Just one moment. Oh

. . . um . . . let’s see. With the World Cup draw only a few days away, things

are quite hectic, as I am sure you can imagine. Aah, can you be at my office at

eight tomorrow morning? I can have breakfast sent in for us. How does that

sound to you?”

“I am at your disposal, Señor Gordero. Eight o’clock is fine for me.”

“Good boy, Renaldo! I am thrilled that you have called me. I look forward

to seeing you tomorrow. Good-bye till then.”

Astor Gordero wasn’t the only one that was thrilled. After the week that

Renaldo had spent in Pergamino, he was beginning to believe his mother’s

rantings about his own ability and his right to even set foot on the same turf as

Argentina’s proven football heroes.

She had never let up. Each time that mother and son had come into

contact, the lady would start to harangue her offspring again. Luckily, she was

not feeling terribly well and kept to her bedroom for extended periods.

Even at that, Florencia looked terrible when she did make an appearance.

It was as if Lonnie had put a pistol to her temple and pulled the trigger. His

words and actions had struck at the very core of her being, and Renaldo knew

that the excessive abuse he was enduring now was a result of a mother’s broken

heart.

He was the only one left to take out her frustrations on, and Florencia was

not about to make things easy for him. When he had approached his mother

about his plans to return to the capital, Florencia told him that she and the staff

would be staying in Pergamino indefinitely. When he had asked permission to

return to Casa San Marco to tie up some loose ends, he was informed that other

than a cleaning lady and a part-time gardener, there would be no one there to

care for his needs.

“Go if you must!” was her abrupt farewell. She did watch, however, from

her bedroom window as Olarti drove her youngest son down the tree-lined

entrance drive and out of sight, away from her influence and out of her life.

JAMES McCREATH

The rattle and shake of the old Ford pickup seemed to symbolize the

upheaval in Renaldo’s young life as he headed for the Pergamino train station.

His heart was heavy with sorrow for his mother’s lament, and yet buoyant about

his own personal opportunities. He had cut the apron strings, but he had also

made a silent pledge to make the person that wore the apron proud of him.

The phone call to Astor Gordero had been the easier of the two calls that

Renaldo intended to make upon arriving at Casa San Marco. The second call,

the one he really dreaded, seemed to take too much effort. How many times

had he dialed the first six digits of her number, 555-739 . . . only to hang up

the receiver before touching that feared number ‘9’ a second time to complete

the call?

What if she rejected him? Or was cool and offhand with him? He must

stay focused on his football preparations. He had been following the regimen

in Octavio Suarez’s binder to the letter. Training exercises, diet, even shooting

balls into the old goals that his grandfather had erected ages ago on the Buenos

Requerdos soccer field.

It was when he tried to immerse himself in the sections of the binder

which dealt with the manager’s weighty football philosophy that his mind kept

wandering back to her essence. Renaldo’s mental preparation was proving to

be much more challenging than his physical preparation. He just couldn’t get

Symca out of his thoughts. But actually phoning her was an even harder task

to accomplish.

In the end, he simply rationalized that one successful phone call was

enough for the first night at Casa San Marco, and that if things went well with

Señor Gordero tomorrow, he would be sufficiently elated to consummate the

dialing of her number.

Again, it was Wolfgang Stoltz that met the young player in the reception

hall of A.R. Gordero and Sons at eight a.m. sharp the following morning.

Renaldo was not kept waiting for more than thirty seconds this time.

They passed down the same mahogany hallway as before, then were

greeted by two waiters in white waist coats and black ties as they entered Astor

Gordero’s office. The Fat Man was nowhere to be seen at the moment, but

judging by the appearance and aroma of the foods that completely covered the

board table, Señor Gordero was about to make his entrance momentarily.

Sure enough, before a cup of coffee could be handed to his guest, the host

made his entrance through one of several doorways leading out of the main

office. As usual, the gentleman was quite a sight.

14

RENALDO

He was attired in blue silk pajamas, complimented by a matching silk

bathrobe. His feet were covered in slippers of the same print, and the whole

ensemble was offset by a contrasting red ascot and pocket puff. A freshly cut

red rose adorned the robe’s lapel. Gordero made his way directly to the seat

at the head of the table, all the while greeting his guest and asking the two

men to join him. The smell of talcum and cologne overpowered the aromas

of the breakfast delicacies. He saw the puzzled look on his visitor’s face and

laughingly addressed him.

“No, no, my boy, I do not come to work in my pajamas! I have a suite of

rooms behind that door. This is my residence in Buenos Aires as well as my

office. Saves me precious travel time while putting me right in the middle

of the action, night and day. Usually, I do not book appointments before ten

o’clock, but these days, well, there just aren’t enough hours to get everything

done. I’ve even had to cut my morning massage time in half. Now that is a

sacrifice that no man should be asked to make.”

Gordero laughed heartily at his own little joke, at the same time filling his

plate from the trays and baskets that the two waiters paraded past his chair.

“How was your holiday, Renaldo? You look fit. Did you stick to Suarez’s

bible? No overindulging?” The Fat Man did not wait for a reply.

“I wish I could say the same. The parties and galas were excessive this

season, all part of the World Cup arm twisting. Thank your lucky stars that you

only have to worry about playing football, young man. The headaches of trying

to get this operation off the ground are staggering!” A jam-laden croissant was

being wagged at the boy as the older man continued his dissertation.

“Not enough first-class hotel rooms, outdated communication systems,

terrorist threats, not enough ticket sales. Why, the last financial breakdown

I saw yesterday had us losing up to eight hundred million American dollars

on the whole event if we fail to entice more tourists to Argentina. Stadium

construction, oye! Let’s not even talk about that topic. It will turn me off

my breakfast. Now, eat! Eat up, then we will talk business. Wolfgang has

everything prepared for you!”

Renaldo was famished! Not having Oli at the casa was the only thing he