Patricia Ratto - Proceed with Caution - Stories and a Novella

Then he started to cry. And right then and there I felt rotten for doing that to him; I apologized, I kissed him, I undressed him carefully, leaving his sneakers on; I put him to bed and stayed there watching him till he fell asleep.

Another night I woke up suddenly, startled. Ennio was sleeping like a log, maybe still a little bit drunk. Then I couldn’t stand it anymore; I wanted to know the secret, and I couldn’t control myself any longer, so I tiptoed over to him slowly and began to untie one of his shoelaces. But it was a disaster, because he took notice, sat up quickly in bed, looked at me with a fury that came from who-knows-where, and shook his legs; I had to jump backwards so he wouldn’t kick me; then he leaped out of bed, came right up to me, I was petrified, he started shoving me around and said he didn’t expect that of me, me of all people. I felt awful, guilty, like a piece of garbage: he was right. He must’ve understood how I felt because his anger faded, he tried to calm me down, and in the end he took my hands gently, led me to the bed, asked me to sit down. He sat down too, kissed me, and said: All right, do you want to know my secret? I’ll tell you, but then I’ll have to go. Unfortunately, things always turn out this way.

No, I replied, forget about everything, don’t tell me. I’d been a fool. It didn’t matter anymore that he had a secret, or deformed feet, or whatever it was; I didn’t want him to go. But he insisted that I was the one who had made it end up like this and there was no other way out. And then he confessed it to me, he confessed he was a faun. A faun? I asked, practically shouting. He covered my mouth with one hand, saying shhh. Then he explained that he had a man’s body, but with hooves. Hooves? I repeated, now in a quiet voice and not really understanding him, while I couldn’t help directing my eyes toward his sneakers. Like a goat’s, he explained. A goat? It seemed nothing else would come out of my mouth except a repetition of what he said to me, but in the form of a question. Yes, I’m a faun; that’s why I need to be in contact with nature, keep my feet—well, hooves—on the earth; that’s why at night I escape to the garden, and when no one is watching I take off my sneakers and climb the tree or stand among the plants. That nourishes my life, gives me all the strength I have and need after so many years. What do you mean, so many years? I blurted, astonished. You’re even younger than I am. What we see is one thing, he explained, what is, is another. To be honest, it all seemed incredible to me, but, I don’t know why, I also believed him and was sure it was true. Now I could explain so many things… Then I remembered the little goats my sisters and I used to raise in the mountains of my province. Suddenly I felt very sad; I asked him for forgiveness and begged him not to go away; I swore not to tell anyone. He didn’t reply, we went to bed, we embraced, and he talked to me about fauns till we both fell asleep.

It must have been around daybreak when I thought I heard some noises I couldn’t quite identify, footsteps, running, maybe, something like a door squeaking, but my sleep and my body felt so heavy that I couldn’t wake up.

When I finally awoke it was late and Ennio was gone. I changed quickly, and while I was making breakfast, Señora Andrea came by to ask for him. I said I hadn’t seen him. She stiffened. What do you mean, you didn’t see him? You’ve got to know where he is! she screamed furiously, You’ve got to know! I didn’t understand a thing, señor, not one thing, till you arrived and then I started to understand a little.

The only thing I can tell you is that Ennio is innocent. When the thieves showed up, they must’ve seen him sitting up in the tree, with his hooves resting on the bark of the tree, looking at the moon like he did so many times, with the dogs asleep at his feet. And then he had no choice but to run away and escape without thinking of anything or anyone, to look for a new place to live. Why didn’t the dogs bark? How should I know! They aren’t guard dogs. Besides, look, how can you not believe me when his sneakers are here? They were at the foot of the walnut tree. C’mon, man, use your head. Why do you think Señora Andrea wants to find him? Go on, tell me why she hired you instead of calling the police. Not because of the things the thieves took. No, that’s not why, believe me. Do you want to know why? It’s because Ennio went away, and if you don’t find him, he’ll never crawl into her bed again and pleasure her as if, at that very moment, the world was about to end.

THE FIRST TIME I saw him was last summer. It was very hot, and I had left the window open; a gentle breeze barely stirred the curtains. I had turned off the lights to keep out the mosquitos; the TV was on, filling the room with a flickering blue glow. Then I had the sensation that something had slipped from the window into my room. At first I imagined a cat, but the bulk I perceived was too big. For a while, I waited expectantly. Then I thought I had imagined it and continued to watch an old, black-and-white film they were showing on the government channel, and I ended up falling asleep. In the middle of the night, as often happens, I had to get up to go to the bathroom. The TV was still on. As I placed my feet on the floor in search of my slippers, I saw him: it was an enormous dog with a dark head and short, dense fur. I put on my glasses, which I kept on the nightstand, and leaned over a little to see him better. He was asleep, curled up in a ball. I kept still, waiting for him to wake up or move, but there was absolutely no reaction. I’ve always liked dogs, but I also know that when you aren’t familiar with an animal, it’s best to be cautious. So I dismissed the idea of putting on my slippers, stealthily got up from the other side of the bed, and walked barefoot to the bathroom. When I returned, the dog was sitting on his hind legs, looking at me. What’s this lovely boy doing here in my room? I said, as I turned off the TV set. He smiled at me the way dogs smile, not with his mouth, but with his eyes. I moved closer to him, briefly stroked his head, which came up to my waist, and went back to bed. I heard him lie down on the floor again, and I went back to sleep. In the morning he was no longer there. I had the impression I had dreamed it.

He has a dog’s face, but he looks nothing like Rocky. My daughter gave Rocky to me when Ernesto died. So many years married to Ernesto… and it’s not that I was still in love with him, but we were very good companions, and living with him was peaceful. When he passed away, I felt like an orphan, like an amputee, and then Graciela showed up with Rocky in a little basket. It’s a stuffed animal , I said. No, Mom, it’s a golden retriever , she replied. And yes, he was a golden retriever; that’s why he liked to chase things, so I would toss him a sock, a slipper, a ball, anything, and he would take off running and bring it back to me right away. What a fine dog; I had him with me for fourteen years.

Were you out partying last night? Amanda asked as soon as she saw me. Or have you started putting on lipstick before you go to bed? My lips were chapped , I replied, and I have no cocoa butter . But she knows I’m lying to her, and I, in turn, know what she’s thinking and doesn’t dare say: I’m such a flirt that if death comes for me at night, I’d want to be found the next day with my lipstick on. I laugh to myself. No, what she’s thinking doesn’t even come close to the truth, absolutely not. You did the right thing , she clarifies. Chapped lips are very annoying. You always understand me, Amanda , I respond.

Last night we ate the candies that I asked Amanda to buy for me. They came in an exquisite little box and contained an assortment of chocolates filled with different nuts and liqueurs. We also watched Tabú , a Portuguese film, in which, practically from the very first scene, an explorer on an expedition—depressed by the death of his young wife, whom he adored—disappears into a swamp and allows himself to be devoured by a crocodile. He was fascinated by this scene and didn’t take his eyes off the screen, except to gulp down another candy. I ate two or three, and he polished off the rest. No doubt about it: he’s ravenous.