Santiago Gamboa - Necropolis

You’re right, Leonidas, anything’s possible, my contract, his wife or mistress, but I prefer to be optimistic, to believe that at the end of the conference he’ll get in touch with my agent and make an offer, I truly believe that’s what will happen, come on, let’s have a drink, we have to celebrate in style.

I fell asleep.

Marta got back just after two in the morning and went straight to the bathroom. When she came out, I noticed she was drunk. Well? I asked, how was your romantic dinner? She turned to look at me and said: there are no words, phew, let me try and tell you. . Where should I begin? He took me to Jaffa market, or rather, a place near the market that’s badly damaged but still functioning. Delicious, spicy food, and a bottle of wine from Mount Carmel that tasted divine. Then we went to an apartment to have a drink, it wasn’t his place. He said he would count the beauty spots on my body and that when he got to number twelve he would give me a kiss in that spot, and then he would say a city corresponding to the first letter of the part of the body he had kissed. A bit complicated, but he turned out to be an expert. Arm, Amsterdam, belly, Brussels, thigh, Tallinn, and so on, are you following? When he did that I had to say the country that it was the capital of, or imagine another city where I would like to get married to a Korean or get divorced from a Korean. Each time I failed, I had to take off one garment. When he’d finished explaining all this, I said, my dear Amos, the object of the game is to fuck me, isn’t it? so come on, let’s get down to it, because that’s what I want, too.

We had a fantastic fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever screamed like that before or had so many orgasms. We did it three times in a row and I thought of a great idea for an article, let’s see what you think: the life of a military doctor in a city under siege, don’t you think that’s a great subject? I said yes, and asked if she had found out anything new about Maturana. She stood up again and went back to the bathroom. She returned after a while, naked, with a damp towel in her crotch. I’m sorry, it burns a bit. . I haven’t fucked so hard for ages and Amos has a huge penis, what were you saying? Maturana, did you find out anything new?

She lay down beside me and said, yes, Amos saw the tests, apparently he had drugs in his blood, heroin, highly concentrated, in anyone else, Amos said, a quantity like that would have caused an overdose, but he was strong. Then Marta lit a cigarette and said, Amos is married, that’s why he wouldn’t stay the night with me, but he’s coming to the hotel tomorrow. Here? I asked. No, my hotel, I didn’t want to take advantage of you.

She stood up, walked to the window, and looked out at the night sky, which was again filled with storm clouds. I know it’s wrong to get involved with married men, but what can I do, he might die tomorrow and he really wanted it, I could sense that, so why not please him? I’m also going to die. He’s attractive but I’m not planning to fall in love, I’m not stupid. They promise to leave their wives and never do, especially if they have children. When we finished fucking, he lay down beside me and talked to me about her, can you believe that?

He loves and respects her, but doesn’t feel desire for her anymore. Her name is Esther. He saw her from a distance in a university cafeteria and knew she would be his companion, knew that he loved her and wanted her by his side all his life. You know, I feel sorry for people who say things like, “when I saw her I realized. . ” or “it was at that moment that I knew. . ” That’s all bullshit. Nobody knows or realizes anything, certainly not so suddenly.

She lay down on the bed again, covered herself with the bedspread and gave a big yawn. Before falling asleep she said: dear Esther, tomorrow I’ll have sex with your husband again, and I hope you’ll forgive me; he has an amazing penis. . If you have sex with him tonight, don’t suck it, I know what I’m talking about. .

The next day, Momo arrived at the hotel nice and early. He was driving a beat-up old Toyota station wagon. The bodywork was rusty, one of the rear windows had been replaced with a plastic sheet, and there were springs sticking up out of the seats. I got in and we set off. We drove along the side of the street where concrete and steel barriers had been set up to protect passers-by from snipers. Then we turned into a maze of narrow alleys. It’s the shortest route to the highway, he said, wait and see. On the corners, there were overturned cars being used as barricades and old sandbags with holes in them. Why aren’t you fighting? I asked, and Momo replied, I’m in the reserve, I’m an only child and I look after my mother, who’s sick, and my grandmother, who has a number tattooed on her forearm, know what I mean? I suppose if you take a good look at my life, it’s fairly lousy, but just like in the story of the Zen master, what’s good luck and what’s bad luck? that’s why I don’t have to be out there killing people or waiting for them to kill me, I’m a pacifist, you know? well, a realistic pacifist, because if they come to my home I’ll die fighting.

The street narrowed until we could almost touch the walls from the car. Two Orthodox men in torn suits, sitting on the front steps of a building, looked at us indifferently. A woman who was chatting with her neighbor from a window shouted at us angrily as we passed. What did she say? I asked Momo. That we weren’t at the front and her son is. A bit farther along, the fenders of the Toyota hit an empty cardboard box and a hen squawked as it dodged away from the car. I said to Momo: are you sure this is the way? Trust me, the highway is straight ahead. And indeed, we were soon descending through Bab el-Wad toward Tel Aviv.

Didn’t your girlfriend want to come with us? Momo asked. She isn’t my girlfriend, only a friend, she’s a journalist, she’s covering the conference and I met her in the hotel. How strange, he said, I know women and I can assure you she looked at you as if you were her boyfriend, I can seen that in women; pardon me asking, but have you fucked her? No, I said. Momo turned in his seat. If you want my advice, sir, tell her something sad, it never fails; sadness always finds a kindred spirit. I have a bit of experience in this.

As we passed the Monastery of the Seven Sorrows at Latrun, a jet with the star of David on the back passed over our heads, flying very low. Fumigation, said Momo. What did you say? Fumigation. When the enemy is so close, we can’t shoot too much shit at them, because if the wind changes it falls on our heads; instead they fumigate with a burning liquid that only works for a few seconds but drives anybody who doesn’t have a protecting cream crazy; they have to fly low to spray it, and that has its dangers, they’ve already brought down a couple of planes. But it’s worth it. Their operations are becoming less frequent, which gives us a bit of a respite. We’ve been at war for many years, and we know each other well.

The streets of Tel Aviv were filled with pedestrians in shorts and sandals. It was summer in the Middle East, something that did not seem to exist just forty miles away, because the perception of reality was different there: as if the world’s tribulations had come to an end and only one fortress remained to fall. We entered the noisy, traffic-clogged streets. Momo said: my mother’s place isn’t far, we can have a cold drink and you’ll meet my family, then I’ll take you to your address. Momo’s mother lived in the northern part of the city, near the harbor. The smell of the sea filled our nostrils as we got out of the car. I took a deep breath and felt slightly dizzy, but I was fine otherwise. My health was holding up in spite of all these excesses.