Juan José Saer - La Grande

— You little slut, Nula says, laughing. Neither you nor the bourgeoisie have anything left to corrupt.

They’re lying on the lounge chairs, drying off after their first swim. They arrived about a half an hour ago, after having dropped off the kids at La India’s for the day, bringing with them six bottles of wine (two of Nula’s favorite, the sauvignon blanc), something which, apparently at least, produced extreme pleasure in Gutiérrez. Nula suggested that he let them rest a couple of weeks before drinking them. Gutiérrez invited them inside to change, but they already had their swimsuits on, so they got undressed by the swimming pool and put their clothes in the large, straw bag that had contained the bottles. Diana’s tiny yellow bikini, in a certain sense demonstrating the aptness of medieval realism, openly displayed her godlike body, the absence of her left hand seeming to evoke the history of a dark, mythological episode. And just as they finished undressing and began walking quickly along the lawn from the white slabs around the entrance, Lucía and Riera appeared (Leonor would arrive later, on her own). Standing on the edge of the swimming pool, they greeted the people in the water — the Rosembergs, Soldi, Violeta, and Gutiérrez — walked passed the grill and exchanged a few words with Faustino, waved politely to Gabriela, José Carlos, and Tomatis, who were talking in the shade, under the pavilion, and hurried toward Diana and Nula, who were waiting for them, hesitantly, near the pool. Nula wondered how the encounter would turn out, but they reached them so quickly that he didn’t have time to think up a plan. Riera kissed Diana loudly on the cheek, as did Lucía, and then they hugged Nula with the spontaneity of old friends seeing each other again after a long time. Gutiérrez, who was coming out of the swimming pool at that moment, seemed surprised to see Lucía and Riera treating Nula so intimately, and Nula, noticing his expression, told himself that it would probably cost him some effort to make sense of the scene that had taken place the previous Tuesday, when they’d found Lucía at the house after returning, under the rain, from the fish and game club with the two catfish and Lucía and pretended not to know him. Luckily , Nula thought, Gutiérrez isn’t someone who worries too much about the lives of others. After that effusive introduction, Lucía and Riera followed Gutiérrez into the house, and, without saying a word, Diana and Nula dove into the blue water. While Diana swam, Nula started talking to Soldi, whose curly, black beard clumped together into pointed thickets that dripped water. After swimming a while, Diana got out of the pool to dry off on a lounge chair, and Nula followed her a couple of minutes later. They fell silent under the sun, lying in the lounge chairs, until they saw Riera come out of the house, dressed only in shorts, and because he was barefoot, and the white slabs were roasting by that time, he chose to walk along the lawn. He’s now standing at the edge of the pool, smiling.

— I think it’s you he’s smiling at, Nula whispers, but without concealing his comment very much, and Riera realized that they were talking about him and, with a hesitant smile, approaches slowly and stops in front of them, with his back to the pool.

— What kinds of nasty things are you saying? he says.

— None, actually, Nula says. Diana was asking me if we’re really in the company of the great corruptor of the wives of the bourgeoisie.

— At your service, madam, Riera says, staring at Diana. They exchange a quick, almost imperceptible smile that Nula nevertheless understands as a sign of recognition, as though they were two members of a secret society who, when they meet in public, have to perform certain ritualized gestures that only they know in order to identify each other. Or as if, after a long search, two creatures destined to find each other had met unexpectedly, recognizing each other in the act without the slightest hesitation. Though Nula believes he knows Diana deep down, a slight and momentary twinge of jealousy at once surprises and mortifies him.

— Well, he says. It’s not really as bad as all that.

— I could already tell on the phone that it would be worth meeting you, Riera says.

— But, you see, Diana is incorruptible, Nula says.

— It’s my primary charm, in fact, Diana says. Or am I wrong?

Nula, with considerable relief, realizes that the imperceptible smile that Diana just exchanged with Riera does imply a kind of recognition, but also a sense of defiance.

— Incorruptible bourgeois , Riera mutters with affected thoughtfulness. A contradiction in terms.

Nula and Diana laugh, and Riera follows with a brief cackle. Amalia comes out of the house with a platter of plates of olives, cheese, mortadella, and salami. She distributes them around the table under the pavilion, which has already been set for lunch, and turns back toward the house. Tomatis, José Carlos, and Gabriela approach the table and, in a highly educated manner, withdraw pieces of food with their fingers and bring them to their mouths. Soldi, completely wet, shaking himself off energetically to remove some of the water, comes out of the pool and stands a moment at the edge, unsure. Finally, seeing that the yellow lounge chair in which he sat on Thursday is empty, he hurries to it. From the other side of the pool, sitting in adjoining lounge chairs, Nula and his wife laugh with Doctor Riera. Soldi would like to approach, but he prefers to watch the scene from a distance, especially because Gabi has gestured warmly from the pavilion, where she talks with José Carlos and Tomatis, and, if he gets up now, he ought to walk over to them.

— An oxymoron. Like saying cold fire , Nula says after he manages to contain himself.

— An oxy-what? Riera says, alarmed.

— Nothing a man of science would understand, Nula says, with feigned condescension.

They laugh again. It’s the easy, expressive, and vaguely complicitous laughter that, as usual, the immediate affection for Riera, product of his physical presence and his spontaneous and tempestuous friendliness, creates in everyday interactions, and not only with women. Amalia comes out of the house again with a bottle of wine and an ice bucket, and behind her, carrying identical objects, Lucía and Gutiérrez appear. This arrival produces a subtle but unmistakable euphoria among the guests: the appetizers were merely a preface of the start of the feast that the procession of the three wine-bearers signals in earnest. For now, the guests, scattered around the pool, inside it, or under the pavilion, will serve themselves a glass of wine and pick at something from the plates at their own pace, until the announcement that the cookout is ready will gather them around the table, which has already been set. With a vague gesture, and in a very loud voice, Gutiérrez encourages his guests to serve themselves from the table, and though no one seems to pay any attention to him, as soon as he disappears into the house, José Carlos, Gabriela, and Tomatis each serve themselves a glass of wine and eat avidly from the plates, this time using toothpicks arranged in glass jars to pick at the cubes of cheese or mortadella, the salami slices or the oval-shaped green and black olives. Though he isn’t much of a drinker, Soldi looks curiously at the table from his yellow lounge chair, but doesn’t make a move to stand. The Rosembergs and Violeta are talking in the water, at the shallow end of the pool, and Nula is too busy with Diana and Riera, and somewhat too anxious in fact, to think about eating just now, and his anxiety heightens when he sees Lucía, rather than following Gutiérrez and Amalia back into the house, walking toward them and stopping next to Riera.