Guillermo Rosales - The Halfway House

“Oh, my!” Curbelo says to Dr. Paredes: “Long time, no see!”

They shake hands. Paredes and I sit in front of Curbelo’s desk.

“How are those fishing competitions going?” Paredes asks.

“Well!” Curbelo says. “Yesterday, I won first place. The first time in twenty years that I win first place!”

“Congratulations!” Paredes says. Then he turns to me and asks, “William … can you leave us alone for a minute?”

I get up and leave. I go to my room. The crazy guy who works at the pizza place jumps up from his bed when he sees me.

“Mister William!” he exclaims happily. “We thought you were in prison!”

Ida, Pepe, René, Eddy, all of the nuts have come to my room and start to greet me effusively.

“Are you here to stay, Mister William?”

“No,” I say. “I’m leaving with Frances to go to our own house.”

Then Ida, the grande dame come to ruin, comes up to me and puts her hands on my shoulders.

“Take it easy,” she says.

“What?”

“About Frances,” she says. “Take it easy!” “What happened?”

“Frances isn’t here anymore,” Ida says. “Yesterday, her mother came from New Jersey and took her.”

I don’t listen to anything else. I push Ida on the bed and run to the women’s room. I open the door violently. Instead of Frances, I see a fat, old black woman lying on her bed.

“I arrived yesterday,” the woman says. “The one who was here before left.”

“Did she leave a note?” I ask, anxiously.

“No,” says the woman. “She only left this.”

And she shows me Frances’ drawings. There we all are. There’s Caridad, the mulata cook. There’s one-eyed Reyes; there’s Eddy, the nut who is well-versed in international politics; there’s Arsenio, with his devilish eyes; and there I am, with my face that is hardened and sad at the same time.

I go up to Mr. Curbelo’s desk. Paredes looks at me questioningly.

“You know everything already?”

“I already know,” I respond. “Don’t bother yourself about me anymore. Nothing can be done.”

“I’m sorry,” Paredes says.

“Kid …,” Mr. Curbelo says. “You can stay here if you want. Take your pills. Rest. There are enough women in this world.”

From the dining room comes the mulata Caridad’s voice announcing dinner. The nuts pile out in droves. Curbelo stands up and pushes me gently by the shoulders.

“Go,” he says. “Eat. You won’t do better anywhere else in the world than here.”

I hang my head. I go toward the dining room, behind all the nuts.

Boarding home! Boarding home! I’ve been living in this halfway house for three years already. Castaño, the old centenarian who always wants to die, is still screaming and reeking of urine. Ida, the grande dame come to ruin, is still dreaming that her kids in Massachusetts will come to her rescue one day. Eddy, the nut who is well-versed in international politics, still follows the TV news avidly and screams for a third world war. Old one-eyed Reyes is still oozing pus from his glass eye. Arsenio is still bossing everyone around. Curbelo goes on living his bourgeois life with the money he takes from us.

Boarding home! Boarding home!

I open the book of English poets and read a poem by Blake called “Proverbs of Hell”:

Drive your cart and plow over the bones of the dead.

The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.

He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence.

The hours of folly are measur’d by the clock

I stand up. In a corner of the living room, one-eyed Reyes is taking a long piss. Arsenio goes over to him and takes off his belt. With the buckle, he whips the old one-eyed man’s back violently. I go over to Arsenio and take the belt out of his hands. I lift it up over my head and let it fall down with all my might on the old one-eyed man’s frail body.

Outside, Caridad the mulata calls us to eat. There’s cold fish, white rice and raw lentils.