Juan José Saer - La Grande

— Is this seat taken? Nula asked, using for the first time in his life an expression that he’d read many times in certain novels and had often heard when he went to take an exam at school or he was asked to wait at some public office.

She didn’t respond right away, and only looked at him, but Nula realized that she was thinking because the look she gave him was abstracted for a few seconds, cut off from the external world, while her thoughts, hidden, unstable, inaccessible to him, possibly sought, behind the forehead on which passing wrinkles implied some effort, the response that she was about to give and her reasons for giving it. Before speaking, and after her gaze had reconnected with the external world, she took a moment to glance at her tiny, silver wrist watch, then looked up again, the movement perhaps a bit abrupt because the bubble of dark curly hair spilling from the crown of her head vibrated slightly.

— No, of course. Sit down, please, she said, her lightness seemingly calculated and her intonation contrasting with her serious, vaguely preoccupied demeanor. As he was sitting down, Nula saw La India turn the corner toward the house, and though he lifted his hand and shook it several times to get her attention, she didn’t seem to recognize him, but that same night, when she saw him come in, she greeted him by saying, You already have a mother, but you’re spoiled and now you always want two for the price of one , and he, worked up, was about to say, I’m not the one with a cult of personality in this house , but he felt miserable thinking it and kept his mouth shut.

— That was my mother, he explained to Lucía.

— Such a beautiful woman, and so young, Lucía said, as though she was thinking of something else.

— Allow me to introduce myself, Nula said. Nicolás Anoch, but my friends call me Nula; it means Nicolás in Arabic. I’m studying philosophy in Rosario.

— My husband studied in Rosario, too, but medicine. My name is Lucía, Lucía said.

— I dropped medicine for philosophy, Nula said. I got tired of opening and closing cadavers. They’re all the same inside.

— My husband is Doctor Riera. His office is just around the corner.

— Yes, that’s right, Nula said. I think I’ve seen the sign. Across from the municipal building.

— Directly across, yes, Lucía said thoughtfully. And then, studying him openly, she said, Your face looks familiar. Are you from the neighborhood?

— Yes, Nula said. I’ve lived half a block from here my whole life. In the luxury tenements. Are you a city planner?

— City planner? Lucía said with a dry laugh. How could I be a city planner? I’m nothing.

Disconcerted momentarily by her sarcastic interjection, Nula hesitated a few seconds, until it occurred to him to say, Would it be alright if we used tú with each other?

— Sure, Lucía said, and looked at the time again.

— Are you waiting for someone? Nula asked.

She was about to say something, but the arrival of the waiter interrupted her. When he left, they kept talking. Nula felt incredibly impressed to be at a table using tú with her, and reconciling himself to what he’d gained up until that moment, a thousand times more than what he’d dared to hope for fifteen minutes before, he felt content with the exchange of pleasantries that didn’t even seem like pleasantries to him because in fact they satisfied him completely. Even though the arrival of the waiter had kept her from answering his question, it was obvious that she was waiting for something or someone; she drifted in and out of the conversation, checking the time every so often, and never lost her grave demeanor even when she said things that seemed cheerful. They discussed the neighborhood, the good weather, the city, and though every so often Nula would bring up personal details, more so out of his childishly inflated sense of himself than as an actual seduction tactic, she didn’t seem to hear them, or in any case she didn’t seem inclined to tell him more about herself than the two or three things she’d said at first and which had more to do with her husband than with herself. More and more frequently, Lucía would look out at the street, scrutinizing the people who passed, as though she were looking for someone in particular, drifting off for several seconds before returning to the conversation. Her laughter, when she laughed, was always abrupt and not exactly happy, and a few times, Nula, confused, had to admit to himself that no matter how much he thought about it, he wouldn’t find, at that moment in the conversation at least, anything to laugh at. His worries from the week before returned, although she appeared calm and relaxed, with no trace of mental disarray in her focused and attractive expression. She was friendly and warm, and though she didn’t seem inclined to offer him any special favor, she treated him in a friendly, intimate way, possibly because she didn’t take him very seriously, but Nula, growing slightly bolder, so as to not lose heart, told himself that it wouldn’t be the first time that he’d managed to sleep with someone who hadn’t seemed to take him very seriously at first. Even though that bravado wasn’t quite convincing, he already knew that what might happen there didn’t matter much, that he couldn’t decide anything, that whatever Lucía might do, he’d already gotten caught in her aura and he was trapped there.

Eventually, it started to get dark. Lucía asked if he wanted to go for a walk and Nula followed her out. They crossed to the opposite sidewalk, hurrying to avoid the quickly approaching headlights from the next block, but rather than heading for her house, Lucía, saying that she still had some time, suggested that they take a walk around the block. When they reached the entrance to Nula’s building, Lucía went up the stairs and started looking curiously at the two rows of apartments and the central garden, where the white-globed nightlights had already been lit. Forgetting Nula, she studied the entrance for a few moments and then, to disguise her excessive interest, came down the stairs to the sidewalk and asked him, So this is your building ?

— Yes. The third apartment on the right, Nula said, gesturing in its general direction with a vague nod and thinking, She’s starting the same circuit she took the other day, but this time, whatever her reasons, I’m taking it with her, and for a while still, I think . And they turned at the corner of the ice cream shop: La India’s ice cream friend (he’d opened after Nula moved to Rosario for medical school), who was filling a cone, looked up, surprised to see him with someone, but Nula, watching him covertly, acted as though he didn’t see him so as to not have to say hello. They turned onto the cross street, shaded darkly under the trees, and walked in silence to Doctor Riera’s office, the dark interior of which she stopped to inspect, and then they kept walking, turned north on the street parallel to 25 de Mayo, and Lucía stopped halfway down the block, outside the same house as the week before, gazing inside through the half-open door with the same blatant indiscretion, and though the lights were on and apparently there were people inside, after a few seconds Lucía started walking again, more quickly than before, a severe look on her face. While up until then Nula had wished that she had been less distracted from the conversation, he now knew that he’d been relegated by Lucía to a kind of nonexistence and completely forgotten. The warm aura he’d have liked to settle into indefinitely aspirated and expelled him at intervals, without warning, and he couldn’t tell if she was doing it in a calculated or a careless way. Finally they turned the last corner and reached her house. Lucía opened the door. The house was dark, and it was obvious there wasn’t anyone there. Nula thought she’d invite him in, but just the opposite happened.