was now an active participant, had too many perspectives from which to be seen, although she would prefer to continue trusting the word of this tormented man.
“I understand... and you lost control of the car...”
Carlos didn’t know if he should continue down this route, even though the way in which Elena was listening denoted full confidence in what he said.
“No, it wasn’t like that exactly. Although the sight of my daughter did shake me up, that’s not the reason why I had the accident. Then, at some point, I felt as if she pounced on me, angry, but it was as if she wasn’t in control of her actions. She grabbed me by the neck and one of my arms with an enormous strength, as if she wanted to prevent me from being able to drive.”
Elena considered those words. In a way, it all fitted. If Carlos had lost all reason, then his lost mind was making a fine job of coming up with a perfectly clear interpretation that showed no weakness.
“Perhaps she wanted to hurt you?”
“No, no... I think it was something else, my daughter was not... in control of her actions. Besides, her voice sounded... as if there was another person inside her, another person taking her over right down to her core, whilst she fought...”
Carlos could not hold back a bitter and desperate sob. What had happened that morning had been much worse than the nightmares, what he had heard through the radio-alarm clock, and anything else so far.
“Take it easy, Carlos. Rest, and we’ll talk more calmly tonight. Right now, it’s best that you rest.”
He stretched out his neck, as if trying to get rid of some internal, non-specific pain. It was then that Elena could see the marks.
“What’s that?” she asked, coming even closer to Carlos.
“What?” he replied, a little shocked by her look of surprise.
“Those marks...”
Carlos allowed Elena to inspect his neck.
“They’re... they’re like very deep finger marks... from one hand... They’re bruises caused by a little hand... like a child’s...”
They both looked at each other, shocked, but at the same time united in a communion that they had been unable to have until that very instant. They were united by the conviction that, in some way, the hypothesis of insanity was beginning to lose its strength.
XXXIII
The Mass had been quick, and almost enjoyable. Carlos was waiting on a bench at the back of the church, in the shadows. He knew some of the people there, in addition to his father, and it seemed curious to him that all of them met at the ‘community’ every Saturday to pray, and then again on Wednesdays to discuss their issues. Christians were very curious: fragments within fragments, each included within the same religion. He had always thought that faith stretched, adapted, and made anything possible, whenever the perpetuation of the worship of God was in question.
He still felt pain in his chest, neck and arm, although it was fading incredibly quickly. It was almost with pleasure that each mark on his neck, or arm, reminded him of Elena’s expression; an expression of fear, although it was also the expression of one discovering something they have spent a long time yearning to find.
“Meditating?”
The question jerked him out of his reverie. A tall and corpulent man, with a dark complexion and a wide smile, was watching him from the central aisle of the church. They were the only two people left.
“I’m sorry...?”
“No, please, forgive me. I’m Padre Salas,” he added, offering his hand. “Your father told me where you were, and has preferred not to intervene at all: he’s waiting outside.”
“Yes, okay... I don’t know if you heard about the accident...”
“I have, terrible news.”
Carlos felt disorientated. It was like being trapped in a strange web. In spite of everything, this man, with a pleasant gaze projected a strength and security that immediately transformed into confidence.
“I’m sorry, I’m still a little shaken
“I understand... and you lost control of the car...”
Carlos didn’t know if he should continue down this route, even though the way in which Elena was listening denoted full confidence in what he said.
“No, it wasn’t like that exactly. Although the sight of my daughter did shake me up, that’s not the reason why I had the accident. Then, at some point, I felt as if she pounced on me, angry, but it was as if she wasn’t in control of her actions. She grabbed me by the neck and one of my arms with an enormous strength, as if she wanted to prevent me from being able to drive.”
Elena considered those words. In a way, it all fitted. If Carlos had lost all reason, then his lost mind was making a fine job of coming up with a perfectly clear interpretation that showed no weakness.
“Perhaps she wanted to hurt you?”
“No, no... I think it was something else, my daughter was not... in control of her actions. Besides, her voice sounded... as if there was another person inside her, another person taking her over right down to her core, whilst she fought...”
Carlos could not hold back a bitter and desperate sob. What had happened that morning had been much worse than the nightmares, what he had heard through the radio-alarm clock, and anything else so far.
“Take it easy, Carlos. Rest, and we’ll talk more calmly tonight. Right now, it’s best that you rest.”
He stretched out his neck, as if trying to get rid of some internal, non-specific pain. It was then that Elena could see the marks.
“What’s that?” she asked, coming even closer to Carlos.
“What?” he replied, a little shocked by her look of surprise.
“Those marks...”
Carlos allowed Elena to inspect his neck.
“They’re... they’re like very deep finger marks... from one hand... They’re bruises caused by a little hand... like a child’s...”
They both looked at each other, shocked, but at the same time united in a communion that they had been unable to have until that very instant. They were united by the conviction that, in some way, the hypothesis of insanity was beginning to lose its strength.
XXXIII
The Mass had been quick, and almost enjoyable. Carlos was waiting on a bench at the back of the church, in the shadows. He knew some of the people there, in addition to his father, and it seemed curious to him that all of them met at the ‘community’ every Saturday to pray, and then again on Wednesdays to discuss their issues. Christians were very curious: fragments within fragments, each included within the same religion. He had always thought that faith stretched, adapted, and made anything possible, whenever the perpetuation of the worship of God was in question.
He still felt pain in his chest, neck and arm, although it was fading incredibly quickly. It was almost with pleasure that each mark on his neck, or arm, reminded him of Elena’s expression; an expression of fear, although it was also the expression of one discovering something they have spent a long time yearning to find.
“Meditating?”
The question jerked him out of his reverie. A tall and corpulent man, with a dark complexion and a wide smile, was watching him from the central aisle of the church. They were the only two people left.
“I’m sorry...?”
“No, please, forgive me. I’m Padre Salas,” he added, offering his hand. “Your father told me where you were, and has preferred not to intervene at all: he’s waiting outside.”
“Yes, okay... I don’t know if you heard about the accident...”
“I have, terrible news.”
Carlos felt disorientated. It was like being trapped in a strange web. In spite of everything, this man, with a pleasant gaze projected a strength and security that immediately transformed into confidence.
“I’m sorry, I’m still a little shaken
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