Rodrigo Rey Rosa - Severina

“Let’s forget it.”

She put her arms around my neck.

“Can you promise me something?”

“Maybe.”

“Promise that next time you’ll say goodbye, at least.”

“Let’s hope that moment never comes. But look. .” She showed me the spoils of the day:

Psychic Autobiography

The Seven Who Fled

Voyage to Mount Athos

Viva Mexico!

Reminders of Bouselham

“Did you know you can read it backward?” she said. “In fact, that’s how it was written.”

We started to read Reminders backward, sentence by sentence.

“Tell me the story of your life.”

“We have many lives,” she replied.

Her schooling had not been traditional; Señor Blanco had taken care of it himself, and that was the source of what she called her special sense of freedom.

“Traditionally, children are familiarized with lying from the start. Lying, he used to say, is a necessity. It begins with the myth of Father Christmas, who was originally a figure in Turkish folklore, wasn’t he? An unsustainable lie. But by the time it’s wearing thin, there are new lies to replace it. Heaven and Hell. Universal Love. Democracy. And then they try to teach them morality, huh!” She paused. “You know, my grandfather used to say that one of our remote ancestors invented dice. A man from Lydia. It’s in Herodotus. His people emigrated to the north of Italy because of a famine that lasted for many years.”

I hadn’t realized it until then, but for me Severina had become a pure object of pleasure. Like books. I wondered what I meant to her. “You’re more interested in books than in me, aren’t you?” I said, and regretted it immediately.

She looked at me without a word. A little later on, she asked: “Do you remember the first time we talked? I mean, when you shut me in. You were lying about the cameras, weren’t you? I lied about my cell phone too!”

“How do you deactivate the alarms?”

“That’s a secret.”

“Will you tell me one day?”

“Maybe. But then it wouldn’t be a secret, and that would be a pity.”

We laughed.

“We should always be together,” she said.

“Really? Forever?”

“Forever.”

I was thinking it would be impossible. I smiled. “All right. Forever.”

We hugged. We went on talking. Until the telephone rang. It was Ahmed. He wanted to know if she was there.

“Yes, she’s here.”

“You got her, eh, partner?” He laughed. “I’ll be there in half an hour. If you don’t mind, of course.”

“We’ll be expecting you.”

Severina sat back on the divan, pulled up her legs, and put her arms around her knees. She looked worried. “Ahmed? You told him to come?”

“He wants to get a few things straight. So that’s what we’re going to do.”

“Couldn’t it wait?”

“I don’t think so.”

She wasn’t happy. “All right. Whatever you like,” she said.

“Trust me.”

“I trust you. Of course I trust you. But I don’t understand. What’s with this Moroccan guy?”

“He’s going to help us.”

“To do what?”

“To get out of here. To start again somewhere else.”

“I don’t want to start anything anywhere.”

“Don’t you?”

“I want to keep traveling from place to place; I want to go on doing what I’ve always done up till now.”

“With me?”

“Yes.”

“Then we need to get out of here. At least until we’re sure that no one’s going to investigate the disappearance of your grandfather.”

“You’re right about that,” she said.

I lay down beside her. She stretched out her legs so I could rest my head on her thighs. And we stayed like that, hardly moving — she ran her fingers through my hair — and talked while we waited for Ahmed.

When the call came from reception to say that our visitor had arrived, she got up, went into the bedroom, and shut the door.

Ahmed came in with a broad smile on his face.

“Nice place,” he said, surveying the living room, the dining room, the view of buildings and mountains from the windows.

“Good for you. And the little vixen?”

“Tea? Mint? Black?”

“Mint. And the old guy?”

“I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“Is he here?”

I shook my head.

“Where is he?”

“Why did you tell me they were married?”

Ahmed laughed. “A joke, my friend.”

Severina came out of the bedroom. She crossed the living room and greeted Ahmed with a kiss on each cheek, French style.

“You’re more beautiful than ever,” said Ahmed.

“You too.” She looked him up and down.

We made tea and went to sit at the low table in the sitting room.

“We’re planning to travel. You said you’d taken out a restriction order.”

“I had no choice. I want them to pay me what they owe; that’s the way it is.”

“OK. I think we can pay you. In kind.”

Ahmed raised his eyebrows. There was an awkward silence.

“With books.” I swept my arm around, pointing at the walls of the living room, covered with books.

“Why not?” replied Ahmed.

“And you’ll remove the restriction order?”

“I’ll be happy to, once we settle. But what about the old guy? Where is he?”

Severina didn’t attempt to lie. She explained.

We did a series of calculations. Then I invited Ahmed to look through my bookshelves and take what he liked as payment for the debt.

In a few minutes, he chose about a hundred books. Then he paused. “This still isn’t enough,” he said.

Severina looked at me; she was indignant. “How is that possible?” she asked.

Ahmed went on picking out books and piling them on the table.

I offered him more tea and went to the kitchen to make it. Severina followed me.

“He’s picked out about two hundred books there,” she said in a whisper. “Are you going to let him take them all?”

“I’ll let him take as many as he likes, as long as he leaves us in peace.”

“I could kill him!” she hissed, with a surprising vehemence. Then she walked out of the kitchen, went straight to the bedroom, and slammed the door behind her.

In the living room, Ahmed had made eight piles of books of varying heights. “That’ll do it,” he said.

I served him a second cup of tea and we sat down again, facing each other. He had his back to the bedroom door.

“What’s up with Ana?” he asked.

“I don’t think she could bear to watch the plundering.”

Ahmed laughed and looked over his shoulder. “Strange people,” he said quietly, after a moment. “You never know what they’re going to do. I don’t trust them. But you’ve been lucky, it seems.”

Severina appeared behind him. She was holding a book: hardback, octavo, not very thick. She looked at the table and the piles of books.

“Ahmed,” she said, and he gave a little start, “you’re so greedy.”

“Greedy?” He turned to look at her.

“I didn’t take half that many from your store, and they weren’t all as good.”

Ahmed noticed the book she was holding. “What have you got there?”

“I’m going to offer you this book,” she said, “in exchange for all those ones.” She pointed to the piles on the table.

Ahmed looked at her, then at the piles, then back at her. “Can I have a look?”