Laura Restrepo - Delirium

SOME THINGS ARE BEYOND the control of my Sight, says Agustina, because they’re stronger than my gift of seeing. Not even the secret photographs of Aunt Sofi have the power to control these things, and of all of them, it’s the blood that disturbs me most. She means the Spilled Blood, which surprises and overwhelms her each time it escapes from where it should be, which is inside of people. When it obediently flows in its hidden pathways, blood doesn’t bother me because it’s invisible, it has no smell, and the rush of its many white and red globules isn’t noisy at all. One would think God created it to be quiet and secret, but that’s not true, since blood, like steamed milk, is always waiting for the chance to spill over, and when it starts it won’t stop.

Come, Bichi Bichito, little boy, come here and let me cut those fingernails of yours that are black from playing in the dirt, and Bichi, trusting, holds out his hand to his sister Agustina; my little brother’s hand is so sweet, he’s such an adorable boy with those black curls, and so defenseless, the two of us sit on the bed, with my left hand I hold his hand tight and in my right I hold the nail clippers, and meanwhile, with his free hand, he plays at making a little pile of the bits of lint on the wool bedspread, Bichi’s mind is elsewhere as I cut his fingernails, or maybe he’s not thinking of anything, maybe he’s so small that his thoughts are full of the bits of lint, making him forget his own hand as Agustina, who is hardly any older, cuts the fingernail of his little finger with a click.

A tiny piece of nail springs away and falls to the floor, and it’s the tiniest thing on the planet, if Bichi himself is as small as can be, imagine how tiny the nail on his little finger is. Says Agustina: At the time, I don’t think my little brother even knew how to talk yet. Stay still, baby, don’t wiggle so much, this finger is called the ring finger because you wear rings on it, I make another click and a tiny sliver of crescent moon flies through the air, That’s two nails, Bichito, only three left and if you don’t move we’ll be done very soon, this bigger finger is the middle finger, stay still or I can’t do it, there’s another click and the first unexpected thing is that this last bit of nail doesn’t spring into the air but falls softly straight down onto my skirt, the second thing, though not right away but after a long silence has passed, is the inexplicable howl that Bichi lets out seemingly just for the sake of it, and he doesn’t even pull away his hand, which is still caught in mine, his little hand offered up and exposed as if that cry had nothing to do with it.

Only after a while, when Bichi’s cry breaks and turns into sobs, only then do Agustina’s eyes see, for the first time since they opened to the world, how something warm and red is oozing out and staining the bedspread, by now Bichi has pulled his hand away and he brings it to his face which now is also sticky and stained, Let me see, Bichi, please, I try to look at his finger to understand what’s happening, but my head goes fuzzy because I’m shaking, fear takes away my powers, and so many voices bombard me that I can’t understand any of them, the worst of the voices, the one that paralyzes me most, is the one that keeps repeating that I’ve hurt Bichi, that I’ve done him harm, just like my father, I’m sorry, Bichito, please say you forgive me, and he shows me his hand red with blood and his eyes are full of tears, Quiet, my love, quiet, baby, if you cry like that I can’t see anything.

A faint voice reaches my mind and reveals to me that the soft nail I just cut isn’t a nail but the little piece of fingertip that his finger is now missing, I’ll fix it for you, Bichito my love, but don’t cry like that because they’ll punish me for hurting you, and Bichi tries not to cry, he’s still whimpering but very quietly, it’s incredible how his finger matches up with the tip that has come off, they could be stuck back together if it weren’t for the blood that keeps coming out, because this is the Blood, Bichi Bichito, this is what’s called the Spilled Blood, and now I can hear the Big Voice, which warns me Your little brother will die because all the blood inside of him will come out the tip of his finger, then I don’t care if they punish me or if Bichi screams and goes running to tell my mother because more than anything I don’t want Bichi to die, and I think I remember that I cried all that night and that some brown spots were left on the bedspread as a reminder of the bad thing I did, and when my brother Bichi and I were older, his finger was still a little bit short because the tip never grew back, he was missing the tip of his middle finger and he must be missing it still, each time I think of that I start to cry and can’t stop thinking that I was the last person you would’ve expected to hurt you, wherever you are, Bichi, little brother, I’d give anything to make what I did to you stop hurting. After that the thread of blood was hidden again and ran inside, waiting for a new chance to confuse me and blur my special sight.

La Cabrera was a modern neighborhood, with private streets to protect us and guards in ponchos stationed twenty-four hours a day in little huts with bulletproof windows in front of each house, and we children were never left on our own because my mother or Aminta or any of the other maids, if not Aunt Sofi, who by now had come to live with us, were there to watch us, but one afternoon Aminta snuck away to see her boyfriend, and Agustina doesn’t know where the other adults were, but she and her two brothers were left alone and someone rang the doorbell, Don’t open the door, Agustina, don’t open it, Bichito, we’re not allowed to open the door, but I looked out the window and saw that it was the neighbors’ guard, he was wearing his black wool poncho and from outside he made me understand that he wanted a glass of water, Look, Joaco, it’s a watchman and he just wants water, and I ran to the kitchen to get it and opened the door to give it to him and he drank it in two swallows, but the third time he tried to bring the glass to his mouth it fell to the ground and shattered, then he leaned a little against the wall and slid slowly down it, he must have been hot because he took off the poncho without saying a word and then he was on the floor clutching it.

Bichi came out to see what was happening and he stood there beside me and after a while the security-guard man asked me from the floor to please give him more water, and that thing had already started to happen: the Blood was slowly coming from him, making its way out of his body, and a voice told Agustina that only water could control the will of the Blood that is Spilled, the guard asked me to bring him water and I understood what he meant, he was letting me know that he wouldn’t die if I gave him water so I ran to the kitchen to get him another glass, What are you doing, Joaco shouted and she said, I’m bringing him more water because he’s thirsty, He’s not thirsty, he’s dying, can’t you see that somebody hurt him and he’s dying?

But he was thirsty, he tried to sit up and he stretched his hand out toward me, toward the glass that I was giving him, his fingers brushed mine, which still retain the memory of that touch, but he didn’t take the glass, instead he slid down again on his side, slowly, like his blood, which was now a big dark puddle on the white marble of the entranceway, the tips of Bichi’s shoes were at the edge of the puddle and I pushed him back with my arm, Don’t touch that blood I told him, but Bichi didn’t listen, Did you think, brother of mine, that the blood that day was like the waters of the Styx and that touching it would make us invincible?