Roberto Bolaño - The Savage Detectives

Last night something really bad happened. I was at the Encrucijada Vera-cruzana, leaning on the bar, switching back and forth between writing poems and writing in my diary (I have no problem going from one format to the other), when Rosario and Brígida started to scream at each other at the back of the bar. Soon the grisly drunks were taking sides and cheering them on so energetically that I couldn't concentrate on my writing anymore and decided to slip away.

I don't know what time it was, but it was late, and outside the fresh air struck me in the face. As I walked I started to feel like writing again, recovering the inclination if not the inspiration (does inspiration really exist?). I turned the corner at the Reloj Chino and started to walk toward La Ciudadela looking for a café where I could keep working. I crossed the Jardín Morelos, empty and eerie, but with glimpses of secret life in its corners, bodies and laughter (giggles) that mocked the solitary passerby (or so it seemed to me then). I crossed Niños Héroes, crossed Plaza Pacheco (which commemorates José Emilio's grandfather and which was empty, no shadows or laughter this time), and as I was about to turn up Revillagigedo toward the Alameda, Quim Font emerged or materialized from around a corner. The shock almost killed me. He was wearing a suit and tie (but there was something about the suit and tie that made them look all wrong together), and he was dragging a girl after him, her elbow firmly in his grip. They were going the same way I was, although on the other side of the street, and it took me a few seconds to react. The girl Quim was dragging after him wasn't Angélica, as I had irrationally supposed when I saw her, although her height and build added to my confusion.

Clearly the girl had no great desire to follow Quim, but neither could it be said that she was putting up much resistance. As I drew level with them, heading up Revillagigedo toward the Alameda, I couldn't stop staring, as if to make sure that the nocturnal passerby was Quim and not an apparition, and then he saw me too. He recognized me right away.

"García Madero!" he shouted. "Over here, man!"

I crossed the street, taking great precautions or pretending to (since at that moment there were no cars on Revillagigedo), possibly in order to put off my meeting with María's father for a few seconds. When I reached the other side of the street, the girl raised her head and looked at me. It was Lupe, whom I'd met in Colonia Guerrero. She showed no sign of recognizing me. Of course, the first thing I thought was that Quim and Lupe were looking for a hotel.

"You're exactly the person we wanted to see!" said Quim Font.

I said hello to Lupe.

"How're things?" she said with a smile that froze my heart.

"I'm looking for a safe place for this young lady to stay," said Quim, "but I can't find a decent goddamn hotel anywhere in the neighborhood."

"Well, there are plenty of hotels around here," said Lupe. "What you really mean is that you don't want to spend much."

"Money isn't a problem. If you have it, you have it, and if you don't, you don't."

Only then did I notice that Quim was very nervous. The hand with which he was gripping Lupe trembled spasmodically, as if Lupe's arm were charged with electricity. He blinked fiercely and bit his lip.

"Is there some problem?" I asked.

Quim and Lupe looked at me for a few seconds (both of them seemed about to explode) and then they laughed.

"We're fucked," said Lupe.

"Do you know of a place we can hide this young lady?" said Quim.

Nervous as he may have been, he was also extremely happy.

"I don't know," I said, to say something.

"I don't suppose we could use your house?"

"Absolutely impossible."

"Why don't you let me handle my own problems?" said Lupe.

"Because no one escapes from under my protection!" said Quim, winking at me. "And also because I know you can't."

"Let's go get some coffee," I said, "and we'll come up with something."

"I expected no less of you, García Madero," said Quim. "I knew you wouldn't let me down."

"But it was pure coincidence that I ran into you!" I said.

"Oh, coincidence," said Quim, sucking air into his lungs like the titan of Calle Revillagigedo. "There's no such thing as coincidence. When it comes down to it, everything is ordained. The goddamn Greeks called it destiny."

Lupe looked at him and smiled the way you smile at crazy people. She was wearing a miniskirt and a black sweater. I thought the sweater was María's, or at least it smelled like María.

We started to walk, heading right on Victoria to Dolores, where we went into a Chinese café. We sat down near a cadaverous-looking man who was reading the paper. Quim inspected the place, then shut himself in the bathroom for a few minutes. Lupe followed him with her eyes and for an instant she gazed at him like a woman in love. Suddenly I just knew they'd slept together, or were planning to momentarily.

When Quim returned, he'd washed his hands and face and splashed water on his hair. Since there was no towel in the bathroom he hadn't dried off, and water was running down his temples.

"These places bring back memories of the worst times of my life," he said.

Then he was quiet. Lupe and I were silent for a while too.

"When I was young I knew a deaf man. Actually, he was a deaf-mute," Quim went on after a moment of thought. "The deaf-mute was always at the student cafeteria where I would go with a group of friends from the architecture department. One of them was the painter Pérez Camargo. I'm sure you've heard of him or know his work. At the cafeteria we always saw the deaf-mute, who sold pencil cases, toys, cards printed with the sign-language alphabet. Trinkets, basically, to make a few extra pesos. He was a nice guy, and sometimes he would come sit at our table. In fact, I think some of us were stupid enough to consider him our mascot, and more than one of us even learned some sign language, just for fun. The deaf-mute may actually have been the one who taught us, I can't remember now. Anyway, one night I went into a Chinese café like this, but in Colonia Narvarte, and I bumped into the deaf-mute. God only knows what I was doing there. It wasn't a neighborhood where I spent much time. Maybe I was on my way home from some girlfriend's house, but anyway, let's just say I was a little upset, in the middle of one of my depressive episodes. It was late. The café was empty. I sat at the counter or a table close to the door. At first I thought I was the only customer in the place. But when I got up and went to the bathroom (to do my business or cry in peace!) I discovered the deaf-mute in the back half of the café, in a kind of second room. He was alone too, and reading the paper, and he didn't see me. The strange turns life takes. When I passed him he didn't see me and I didn't greet him. I guess I didn't think I could bear his happiness. But when I came out of the bathroom everything had changed somehow, and I decided to go up to him. He was still there, reading, and I said hello to him and jostled the table a little so that he would notice I was there. Then the deaf-mute raised his head. He seemed half asleep, and he looked at me without recognizing me and said hello."

"Jesus," I said, and the hair rose on the back of my neck.

"You get it, García Madero," said Quim, looking at me sympathetically, "I was scared too. The truth is, all I wanted was to get the hell out of that place."

"I don't know what you were scared of," said Lupe.

Quim ignored her.

"It was all I could do not to go running out of there screaming," he said. "The only thing that kept me from leaving was the knowledge that the deaf-mute hadn't recognized me yet and that I had to pay the bill. Still, I couldn't finish my coffee, and when I was out in the street I took off running, shamelessly."