Mercè Rodoreda - The Selected Stories

“And no grandchildren, no aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews, or any other relatives. The funeral at noon.”

“It’s useless.”

“I should redeem myself?”

A wind blew across their feet, coming from the sea, creating abrupt whirlwinds of dust. It bore thick clouds that traveled quickly across the sky, devouring the stars.

By the time they reached Plaça Molina, the sky was completely overcast and the wind panted ominously at the cross streets and above the rooftops.

“The night’s going to end dramatically!”

“I’ve already told you, I love the wind.”

Her cape was blowing horizontally. She took it off and handed it to him.

“Hold it for me.”

He took it, stopped, and glanced at the sky.

“Which side of Consell de Cent do you live on?”

“Facing the sea, going down Passeig de Gràcia, on the left. Why?”

“Let’s take the shortcut along Via Augusta. They’re working on the street, not an easy walk, but it’s quicker. I mean because of the weather.”

He was neither in a hurry nor concerned about the rain. He simply wanted to stroll down the broad, deserted street. It’ll seem like we’re alone in this world. Midway between Plaça Molina and the train platform at Gràcia was a garden with a very old plane tree right beside a gate, its foliage falling over onto the street. He knew he’d never forget the sound of the wind blowing through the branches of the tree as he walked beside the girl.

Suddenly raindrops began to fall. Scattered drops, round and fat, striking the ground with a dull sound that increased the intensity of the moment.

“Just what we needed.” The girl looked from one side to another, searching for shelter.

“If we want to find a doorway, we’ll have to run down to the pink house. There are only gardens along this stretch,” he said anxiously.

They would have to run like a couple of idiots. Damn rain that was ruining his reverie.

“Put on your cape, it’ll keep you from getting quite so wet.” He pulled up the ends of it and tied them at the level of her knees. “Will you be able to run?”

“I think so.”

Holding hands, they ran down the street, pursued by the rain, driven by the wind that pushed them to one side. From the ground rose a hot, asphyxiating smell of damp dust. The rain slackened for a moment; the cloud that had borne it passed, but a darker one was approaching.

•

By the time they reached the first portal a real downpour had started. They were too exhausted to speak. Their hearts and pulses raced. She took off the cape and shook the water off her, as a bird might.

She looked at the boy and burst out laughing.

“Poor costume,” she exclaimed, glancing down at her pleated skirt, all wet, the hem dirty. “If it were just a bit warmer, I would stand in the rain. When we’re out of town in the summer and it rains, I put on my bathing suit and go for a stroll along the beach. It’s wonderful.”

The wind blew the rain toward the other side of the street. In front of the house where they had taken shelter lay a patch of dry ground, some two meters wide. A streetlight shone on the opposite sidewalk. The girl gazed at it in silence for a long time, wrinkling her forehead. She kept opening and closing her eyes as if she were alone.

“Do what I’m doing and you won’t be so sad,” she said without turning her head. “Close your eyes a bit and look at the light. You’ll be amazed at the colors. You see? Green, red, blue.”

He closed his eyes and opened them slowly.

“I don’t see any colors.”

The girl was engrossed in the game and didn’t respond, as if she hadn’t heard him. After a while, she exclaimed, slightly annoyed.

“You must not be doing it right. You have to close your eyes, but not all the way. Leave a tiny crack, really small.”

The boy tried again, closing his lids, then opening them a little. But the yellowish light was unchanged.

“I don’t see a thing.”

“That means you’ll have a long life,” she said with a touch of disdain. “People who see seven colors die the following day. Today I’ve seen five. Wait, let me try again, see if it changes.”

The boy felt depressed, as if having a long life was a true sign of mediocrity. The girl held her breath, still submerged in her experiment.

“No. I can only see five. There was a blue that looked like it was going to turn purple. I was really scared.”

The game entertained them for a while before they noticed that the rain had stopped. Above the roofs, a cloud was slowly ripping apart, displaying a band of dark sky with a few stars visible on the edge. But you could still hear water falling all around, the sewers incapable of absorbing it all.

The boy sighed as if a nightmare had lifted.

“I was afraid we’d have rain all night. If you want my opinion, I think we need to hurry.”

“Wouldn’t you have enjoyed sleeping here in the doorway? I was starting to like the idea.”

For some time the boy had begun to feel impatient. His legs were cold, his back soaking wet, and he was unable to control the tremble in his knees.

“It’s stopped raining. We need to go.”

The girl stretched out her arm, looked up, but didn’t move.

“Where’s your mask?”

He’d removed the cardboard nose when they started running in the rain and was holding it by the elastic band.

“I’m not coming unless you put it on.”

With a condescending air he put on the mustache and nose without uttering a word. She noticed his forehead was full of bumps.

“You must have eaten something that didn’t agree with you.”

“Who, me? You mean because of my forehead? The doctor says it’s because I’m growing so fast.” Why did she have to notice these things? he thought.

They left the bright area by the doorway and entered a dimly lit neighborhood, walking along a seemingly abandoned street. Two dogs were rummaging through a pile of garbage, attracted by the nauseating stink. At the end of the street they could see the lights of the Diagonal.

They walked side by side, without saying a word. She held up her skirt and walked very slowly, hardly able to see where she stepped. Midway down the street, a shadow appeared and planted itself directly in front of them, demanding a light.

The man was tall and stocky, with a husky voice. A shorter shadow, as if it had just sprung from the earth, stood alongside.

“Sorry, I don’t have a light.” The boy was about to continue on when a hand as heavy as a hoof struck him across the chest.

“Hey, not so fast. Your money, first.”

The boy felt his stomach contracting and his eyes well up. Instinctively he tried to keep his head.

“Look, it may be Carnival time, but it’s too late for jokes.”

“I wonder what you look like without that disguise of yours. Listen to the little sparrow chirping. Does your mamma bring you worms?”

Suddenly he was blinded by the man’s flashlight.

“Send us a note when you get more hair on that face of yours. The little shit thinks I want to play games. Hand it over.”

The girl intervened, her voice trembling slightly.

“It’s not worth arguing,” she said, handing her purse to the large man.

“Well, I’ll be damned! Take a look at that star. Did it just pop out on your forehead like the Mother of God?”

As he spoke, the large man handed the purse to his companion.

“Count the money, Gabriel.”

The short man opened the purse and took out two bills.

“Twenty-five and twenty-five, fifty,” he said without enthusiasm.

“And you, brave little boy, you made up your mind yet?”

The boy was about to explode with anger.

“I’m not giving you anything.”