Josep Maria de Sagarra - Private Life

“Well, I don’t mind a bit if he comes with us. We’d make him sit with his back to us, staring at the rocks, and he would enjoy a wonderful view, because I think he’s pretty tame and not some kind of satyr. We spent a little time on the paddleboat today, and that’s the conclusion I came to … If I didn’t think the Colls and the Banúses and the Jiménez girls would skin me alive, I would send for him tomorrow morning and take him off in the boat. No, really, would you mind if he came with us?”

“If he came with us, not at all, on the contrary. But you do see that then it would be an entirely different plan ,” and she used a word in Spanish for the first time. “We would all be much less lively and spontaneous in our exercises. Besides, it would get boring with him alone. What do you want with just one guy?”

“If the plan were just to be buddies and get in shape? It doesn’t matter to me at all, not one bit. I don’t know why we’re supposed to do anything different, just for a boy … He’ll be, I don’t know, just like one of us …”

“With one small difference …”

“Pretty small.”

“Don’t be fresh now.”

“I said the plan was just to go as buddies …”

“You tell him that, and let’s see what he thinks, especially the part about what you said about the small difference …”

“I think he knows how to behave …”

“Listen, are you just talking to get me to talk, or have you gone mad?”

“I’ve told you many times that I have my own ideas about the question of sex. In Paris, two friends of mine, two very good friends, eh? belong to a nudist club and on Sunday boys and girls get together and … it’s all just fine.”

“But have you ever gone with these friends, have you ever tested it for yourself?”

“No, but I’ve been tempted. I swear, it wouldn’t matter to me at all.”

“Sure, but the fact is, you’ve never done it …”

“Maybe I just wasn’t in the mood. They get up too early in the morning and they’re full of nonsense. Most of them are vegetarians.”

“They must be utterly charming.”

“Enough! You’re way behind the times. Let’s just let it go. So you don’t want Pat to come with us, then.”

“Of course I don’t. And what’s more, what would our aunt say … if she found out?”

“She’ll never know. And neither will mamà. And, look, it would be something new and different. We spend our days here like shrinking violets. Most of the boys are dimwits, and when one comes along with a bit of spark, we should take advantage … Unless what you want is to have him all to yourself …”

“Come on, Dionísia! What’s got into you …?”

“No, sweetie. Don’t get mad, I just said it as a joke. I know Pat is just another boy to you. I don’t wish him on you for a minute. He’s a garden variety bore. I swear, not one of the guys here has made the slightest impression on me. And I imagine you feel the same way, and your little conquest of Pat is just … But, you know, that’s not what he thinks …”

“What do you mean? What does he think?”

“He thinks you’re sweet on him. Not that he’s said as much, poor thing. But since you …”

“Since I what? I don’t follow you.”

“Yes you do. You and he, over the aperitifs, were having a real tête-à-tête. And it looked like you were really involved, and that’s just natural, because he’s so cute …”, and here, again, she said mono . “And he knows it, and he takes every advantage … You didn’t notice it, but he was looking at you like a real playboy who already …”

“Oh, Dionísia, you’re always …”

“Wait, just a second.”

“What?”

“Today, after lunch, I was reading for a while in the garden and he passed by and saw the book I’m just about to finish, and he asked me to lend it to him when I was done, and I’m not sure what to do …”

“Why not? What were you reading?”

“That book by Lawrence. What would you do? Would you lend it to him?”

“He’s a big boy. Too bad for him if he finds it shocking.”

“I’m not concerned about him. I’m asking for me, because just imagine …”

“For you? You mean so he won’t get the wrong idea …? Oh, Dionísia, you see? I would never even have thought about it. Maybe I am more innocent than you, but if he had asked me to lend him that book I would have done it without thinking twice, like the most natural thing in the world. Really.”

“Well, it’s just a little too dirty. I really like dirty books … but there are a few details … that I find … well, I don’t know, Lawrence could just have kept them to himself … There’s no need to spell everything out like that … with a bit of imagination …”

“Yes, it’s pretty smutty. Still, I found it very interesting. But it is possible that Pat would only be interested in the dirty parts. These athletic types are like that. But, sure, lend it to him … Maybe …”

“You mean maybe he’ll wise up a bit when he reads it?”

“Don’t go thinking he’ll turn into a satyr! There’s no danger of that, Dionísia. I don’t believe that reading is a stimulus. Those are just things that happen in school … The sea is much more exciting than any book … And I don’t know, every day I’m more and more afraid that I am a cold fish …, a little too cerebral, you know?”

“You may be cold, or you may imagine you are, though I think you’re just dreaming. But you can’t assume the same of Pat, or even guess at the impression books may make on him. Since I have the impression he reads very little, for that very reason reading must make a bigger impression on him than it does on you or me, who devour novels all day long … Two days after I read a book I don’t remember a thing about the plot. I’m just ready to start a new one.”

“You know what I think?”

“What?’

“I think we’ve been talking about Pat for half an hour.”

“Hey, we were talking about books!”

“Yes, now try and deny it … I just think we could talk about something more interesting …”

“Does it bother you to talk about him?”

“No, but we’re spending too much time on him.”

That night, Maria Lluïsa began to have feelings that were quite new to her. Dionísia just infuriated her. What did Dionísia have in mind? What did he think of her friend Dionísia? Maria Lluïsa would have liked for Dionísia to have a flaw in her skin that made her repulsive, or for her voice to be extremely disagreeable, or for her body to have unimaginable deformities. Was Dionísia was in love with Pat? Did she just want to toy with him and take him away from her? Was she telling the truth? No. Maria Lluïsa was sure it was just the opposite. She thought her friend had been covering up even more than she had. But what did Dionísia have to offer? What did Pat see in her? Maria Lluïsa started comparing, she analyzed her figure in the mirror. She was secure about her beauty and her grace, and she knew she was chic. Dionísia was a lesser beauty, her face was less refined, her skin was less exciting. It was impossible for Pat to prefer Dionísia to her. But Maria Lluïsa was frightened, she was full of fear. Why? Hadn’t she been convinced just a few hours ago that Pat was a selfish, common creature, a boy like any other? What had happened that morning was an incident of no importance. Their conversation over the aperitif had been completely banal, but even so, now, in bed, Maria Lluïsa ran her hand over those corners of her body that had been visited by the audacity of the swimmer. She realized then that the morning scene had not been an act of generosity on her part. In the warmth between her sheets, her skin pearled with sweat, she realized that the one who had been magnanimous was he. He had favored her with the contact of his hand, his slightly rough hand, on the sleeping irrelevance of her eighteen year-old belly. Pat had done her the favor of awakening her to the flush of a world she hadn’t suspected. Maria Lluïsa stroked her own skin with her hand and thought that Pat could never find that feverish and welcoming tremble in Dionísia’s flesh. Her hatred for Dionísia became more and more intense. Lying in bed, her pajamas open, her entire body saturated with darkness and silence, with the unconscious breathing of her cousins two steps away, Maria Lluïsa was horrified at herself. How could she be having such feelings? She had known so very many boys just like that aquatic seducer, and none of them had had any effect on her. And he, more common, more childish, more insignificant than many of her friends, had swept her off her feet in less than twenty-four hours. In truth, what was there between them? Very little. She couldn’t rely on a single feeling that boy might have. She realized that her heart was beating at an absurd rate. But Maria Lluïsa insisted that it was not precisely her heart, that she wasn’t the slightest bit enamored. Maria Lluïsa wanted to convince herself that all that was not love. She wanted to believe it had all started with the conversation with Dionísia. The false nonchalance with which her friend had spoken of him had awakened her fear that Dionísia might interest Pat more than she did. She feared that in those four days there had been some real contact between Dionísia and him, and that she, in her innocence, had not realized it. Dionísia was capable of having robbed her of that iodized physique in the most underhanded way. Because when Maria Lluïsa thought of her swimmer, she could only see his belly, his torso, his arms, his naked smile, and his coal-black gaze. She lingered over his skin, over the sensual irradiation of the charm of his words …