The Two Deaths of Senora Puccini (17 page)

“Then I too stood up. It was extremely difficult to talk to her coolly. ‘I can't help the other man,' I said, ‘yet if you come to me, I won't interfere with your being with him whenever you wish.' I told her that I doubted her lack of interest in me and asked why she had let me touch her at the concert. ‘You were as much caught up as I was,' I said. ‘And if I were to kiss you now, you would again be caught up.'

“But she claimed it wasn't true, that I'd embarrassed her greatly at the concert, that she hadn't known how to react. I said I didn't believe her. I took a step toward her to see what she'd do, but she stood her ground. ‘I could feel you trembling,' I said. ‘You weren't indifferent.' And I asked if she would feel nothing if I were to kiss her now.

“She thrust her chin out at me. Although she was defying me, there was still something else. ‘I despise you,' she said, ‘and feel nothing for you. You think you can make me want you?' She was only a few feet away. I walked to her slowly, keeping my eyes on hers. Then, reaching out, I gently took hold of her chin and kissed her, lightly at first then harder as I tried to prize open her lips with my tongue. Her hands were at her sides. I put my right arm around her waist and pulled her to me. Her lips were very soft and although they resisted at first, I felt them begin to open. But I was impatient. As she began to respond, I lifted my left hand to her breast. For a moment she accepted it. It was as if she were balancing on a high place. Then she tore herself away and left the room without another look at me. The principal was waiting in the hall. She smiled and it was as if she knew exactly what had happened.”

Pacheco paused to light a cigarette. It wasn't until he stopped speaking that I was again aware of the noise of Madame Letendre's breathing. Malgiolio had begun to peel another peach. I dug my pipe from my pocket, then started looking for my pipe cleaner. Dalakis sat with his arms crossed, facing away as if he wanted no part of us. Even as I glanced at him, I had an image of him at age twelve shooting the horse. How astonished his father must have been.

“Oddly enough,” continued Pacheco, “I left the school feeling encouraged. Despite her words, I had sensed in her a trace of the hunger which obsessed me and I had no intention of giving up. During the next weeks I tried to see her as much as possible; that is, I put myself in locations where she would see me. I went to her church. I got myself invited to parties where I knew she would be. Often I ran across her fiancé but he ignored me. I can't tell you how much I was galled by his self-confidence, that he knew Antonia Puccini was his no matter what I did.

“The most important fact I learned was about Antonia's aunt. I happened to talk to her doctor, who was a colleague of mine, and found out that in the past several years she had twice been operated on for cancer, was still having treatments and that he, the doctor, was quite pessimistic about their result. Though I was sorry for Antonia's sake, I had gotten into such a state that I saw everything as being either helpful or harmful to my cause. And this information seemed decidedly helpful.

“As weeks, then months went by and I continued my haunting, I watched the aunt and saw how she seemed to diminish. She grew smaller, paler, as if all her attention were directed inward at the trouble within her body. From her doctor I knew the cancer was spreading and it was only a matter of time before she went into the hospital and never came out again.

“During this period I also saw other women, but my feelings for Antonia remained undiminished. Of course I knew I was in the grip of an obsession but it didn't matter, the words right and wrong no longer held any meaning for me. Finally the aunt entered the hospital. Antonia came each day after school and stayed late into the evening. Often her fiancé came as well. I had patients on the same floor and many times I would go by the aunt's room. Antonia would be reading to her aunt or just sitting. As often as possible I made certain that she saw me. She would look, then look away as if she had seen nothing. Several times I entered her aunt's room and would feel her aunt's pulse or look at her chart. Of course I had no business there but I knew her doctor and, obviously, I wanted to keep my presence alive in Antonia's mind. She rarely looked at me. Sometimes I went in while her fiancé was visiting and once I took him out in the hall and told him it was important that the aunt get as much rest as possible. I had to laugh. To him I was an important doctor. To me he was just an obstruction.

“As the aunt's condition worsened she was kept more and more sedated. Many evenings when Antonia visited, her aunt would remain unconscious for the entire time. Winter approached and the aunt grew weaker. One rainy evening I happened to be on the floor and saw that Antonia and her aunt were alone in the room. I went in, looked at the aunt's chart, and took her pulse. It was very faint and I doubted she would last much longer. Antonia was reading in a chair and hadn't looked up. ‘Have you had anything to eat?' I asked her. ‘I can order something for you from the kitchen.' But no, she wasn't hungry. She thanked me and returned to her book. ‘You know,' I said, ‘your aunt could easily die in two or three days, perhaps even tonight. What do you plan to do after she is gone?'

“‘How is that any business of yours?' she asked.

“Of course I thought it was deeply my business but I wanted to appear to some degree contrite. I said that I still loved her and worried about what would happen to her. She again repeated it was none of my business.

“‘But once your aunt dies,' I said, ‘her property will revert to her husband's family. I doubt you have much money of your own. The offer I made still holds. If you agree to be my wife, you can have whatever you desire and also continue to see that young man.'

“But Antonia would have none of it. ‘I don't like you,' she said, ‘I don't want you and I don't need you. I have a job and I am engaged to be married. Even if those things were not true I would still refuse to be with you.' At that moment her young man entered the room. He was not happy to see me and asked Antonia if I had been bothering her.

‘It's nothing,' she said, ‘don't concern yourself with it.'

“I walked to the door. ‘Remember my offer,' I said.

“‘What offer?' asked her fiancé. ‘What's he been saying?'

“‘I want her to marry me,' I said. ‘I will give her anything she wants and she can continue to see you as well.'

“Of course he was angry. He pursued me out of the room and grabbed my jacket. ‘Be careful,' I said, ‘you're in my territory now. One word from me and you'll be expelled from the hospital.' He let go rather quickly. ‘Apologize,' I told him. He refused and I shouted the word at him. After another moment he said he was sorry. I was watching Antonia as he said it. She looked furious.”

Pacheco paused and in the silence I was again aware of the sound of the cook's dying. Her breathing was so loud, so violent that it didn't seem like a person at all, and I had the impression it was the house itself that was breathing, that we were caught within the body of some living thing, but nothing healthy, nothing with the prospect of long life before it. But isn't it always the case, when you go into another person's house, that you are so surrounded by their choices, by examples of how they see themselves and want to be seen, that to some extent it is like being inside their brains? I glanced at the door but there was no sign of movement. For a moment, I wanted to throw it open, just to see if she was there, but I kept my seat. On my left Dalakis was staring down at the tablecloth and I could hear him breathing as well, a frustrated, angry sound. Across from me Malgiolio was helping himself to a bit of cheese. On my right Pacheco was again drawing the blue pack of Gauloises from his shirt pocket. I took my tobacco pouch and began filling my pipe.

“As I predicted,” said Pacheco, “the aunt died a few days later. The funeral was a big affair and I made certain to attend. A few weeks after that Antonia packed up her things and moved to a small apartment in town. Her cousins came from the north, took over the house, sold whatever they didn't want, and eventually sold the house itself. Antonia was by then nineteen. I had learned that after a period of mourning, probably six months, she intended to announce her wedding, which would occur several months after that.

“The aunt died in mid-winter. During the spring there were a number of meetings of the school board. It seemed there were fewer students, decreased funds, and cutbacks were necessary. Clearly, I'd lost any moral sense of my actions. I passionately desired Antonia Puccini, was in a constant state of agitation, and it seemed that anything I could do to alleviate my discomfort was to the good. Besides, part of me despised Antonia for rejecting me, and so any pain I inflicted on her in return was also to the good. As I've said, I knew Antonia's principal and I also knew several members of the school board. By using my influence and demanding favors and winning people to my side, I was able to make sure that Antonia lost her job. It was necessary that a number of positions be erased and with them went Antonia's. Don't think it was easy. She was a popular teacher and very good at what she did. Be that as it may, at the end of the school year she was told there wouldn't be a place for her in the fall.

“Although she had some money saved, she began right away to look for another job. There too I interfered. For instance, she was nearly hired by the bank until I talked to the manager. She was nearly hired by the city government, until I talked to one of the counselors. After a month or so she got a job as a clerk in a shop that sold fabric and sewing materials. There too I could have had her fired but I decided to let her stay. Her fiancé during this time was doing work in the capital and was supposed to return in about six weeks. Again I interfered, seeing to it that he was forced to stay even longer. More than that, I had people tell him that Antonia had been seen with me, that I'd spent the night in her apartment. My friends would tell me how he'd laugh, so confident was he of his success.

“Antonia was quite poor. Just after taking the job as clerk, she moved to an even cheaper apartment. She was nearing the end of her period of mourning and in several months she would marry. Despite the distance, her fiancé had made several trips down from the capital on his motorcycle. I would sometimes see them walking in the evening, looking into shop windows, sitting on a park bench. With me, her face was always closed, as if time stopped until I left her presence. But with him her face was like water with sunlight reflecting upon it, always moving, always bright and excited.

“She knew, or course, that I hadn't given up my interest. Now and then I would go into the sewing store to buy some small article. It was an ironic gesture and I joked with the woman who owned the store, saying this was where I bought the needles and thread to sew up my patients. I found it very easy to charm these people and yet Antonia remained cold and suspicious.

“After Antonia had been working at the shop for about two months, I decided to visit her apartment. I'd noticed that when her fiancé came down from the capital on his cycle it was always quite late on a Friday night, perhaps eleven or eleven-thirty. So I decided to go to her apartment at about that time and she would open the door, thinking I was he. She had no phone, of course, and I doubted she actually knew when he was coming. My intention was just to talk, to make another offer. I told myself I wouldn't try to touch her or molest her in any way.

“Around midnight Friday, I went to her apartment and knocked on the door. As I anticipated she opened it without thinking, assuming it was her fiancé, and I, very quickly, entered her living room. She was furious and ordered me out. She wore a blue bathrobe and had recently come from her bath. Her dark hair was piled high on her head and the little neck curls were still tipped with beads of water. I told her I only wanted to exchange a few words. She said there was nothing she wanted to hear and if I didn't leave immediately she'd make a scene. Again, I had made sure that I knew her landlord and one or two of the other people in the building, but despite these acquaintanceships I didn't want a disturbance.

“So I threatened her back, saying if she made any noise I'd rape her. ‘You know I don't particularly care what happens,' I said. ‘If you make a scene, then I'll take you. What I am asking for is a minute of talk.' She didn't respond but neither did she start screaming, so I repeated my offer. ‘You are poor and I can make you rich. I want to marry you.'

“‘I despise you,' she said.

“‘I don't care about that,' I told her. ‘I know you desire me and I want to make love to you.'

“‘I don't desire you,' she said. ‘I hate you.'

“I asked her why, just for loving her? After all, she knew nothing about me except that I was persistent. Surely that was a commendable quality. I promised to honor her, cherish her. What more did she want? But she grew angry. ‘Can't you understand,' she said, ‘I'm engaged to marry someone else and even if I were not I have no feelings for you at all.'

“‘That's not true,' I told her. ‘You too have some of the hunger.'

“‘That's a lie,' she said.

“So I offered to show her, offered to kiss her again. I walked toward her but as I approached she snatched a pair of scissors from a table and slashed at me, actually cutting the fabric of my jacket. Even while doing that, her face held no expression. I stepped back. As a matter of fact this evidence of strong feeling made me want her even more, and I was on the very edge of brushing aside the scissors and pushing her to the couch. But that wouldn't have satisfied me. I had too much anger.

“‘At least you've heard my offer,' I told her. She didn't speak but stood holding the scissors. One of her scarves was on the table, a blue silk scarf. I took it as a souvenir, sniffed it, and put it in my pocket. Then I left.”