says.
âIs that true in your case? Escalante says, and, from under his arched and graying eyebrows, joined at the bridge of his nose, he locks his smoldering eyes on Gutiérrezâs.
As his only response, Gutiérrez nods his head slowly, in a pantomime of suffering, and recites:
I am the knife and the wound it deals,
I am the slap and the cheek,
I am the wheel and the broken limbs,
hangman and victim both!
Escalante listens to the verses carefully, motionless, as though they were a riddle, a code, or an oracle, and when Gutiérrez finishes speaking, his expression turns severe and brooding, attempting to interpret, for himself at least, its possible meanings. Then, gasping softly, he concludes, worriedly, It wouldnât surprise me , which, for some mysterious reason, or which, in any case, Nula interprets as such, apparently produces an inexplicable sense of satisfaction for Gutiérrez.
When they finish their vermouth, Escalante, who hasnât finished even half of the orange soda, offers them another round, which they decline. Nula, his back to the bar, throws three or four peanuts into the air, one after the other, and, twisting his head and rolling his eyes to follow their trajectory, catches them in his mouth. Then he is still again, and, looking across the room at the front door, watches the rain cross, obliquely, the light that projects onto the sidewalk against the backdrop of the night.
âAre you coming on Sunday? Gutiérrez says, signaling, indirectly, their imminent departure.
âI have to think about it, Escalante says.
âIf itâs because of your missing teeth, Gutiérrez saysâbringing his hand to his mouth and removing a set of dentures from the bottom row and leaving a gap in the middle of his bottom lipâI too can reveal my true face to the world.
Escalanteâs own face, impassive up until that moment, has become unstable, covered in folds, creases, and wrinkles, on his forehead, around his eyes and mouth, as though he were making a tremendous effort to hide an emotion, and he darkens slightly, possibly because his skin is so lustrous and dark that the blood that flows to his cheeks canât quite turn them red. Finally, the creases on his face disappear and Escalante is able to smile, and when his hand, his fingers curled, starts to move toward his mouth, he notices the gesture and stops it at his waist, hooking his thumb between his belt and the waistline of his pants. Nula, languidly chewing his peanuts, slows the movement of his jaws until they stop completely and his mouth is left half open as he stares at the other men, as the barman does, and who does so with an expression that combines surprise and uneasiness and even anger. Gutiérrez, with a gesture that vaguely resembles a magician or a variety show host, and which consists of holding the dentures aloft for the public, has also fallen still, displaying the false teeth mounted on a bridge of pink substance that resembles the color of his gums, and ends with two metal hooks that must attach to the actual teeth, and when he returns Escalanteâs smile, his lower lip, sunken into the hole that has opened in the middle of his face, folds and collapses into his mouth, disfiguring the countenance that Nula, over the course of their three meetings, had started to get used to. Slightly agitated, Nula thinks, And I thought he walked in here that way out of arrogance .
âAlright, fine, Escalante says. Maybe you convinced me. Maybe Iâll come.
While Nula thinks, What strange people , Gutiérrez, narrowing his eyes and rolling his pupils backward, reinserts the teeth and stops a few seconds to install them, tapping his upper row against the lower one to make sure theyâre in place.
âChacho, Escalante says to the barman. Do we have anything our friends could take back with them?
âLet me see if thereâs anything in the fridge, the man named Chacho says.
âNo,
âIs that true in your case? Escalante says, and, from under his arched and graying eyebrows, joined at the bridge of his nose, he locks his smoldering eyes on Gutiérrezâs.
As his only response, Gutiérrez nods his head slowly, in a pantomime of suffering, and recites:
I am the knife and the wound it deals,
I am the slap and the cheek,
I am the wheel and the broken limbs,
hangman and victim both!
Escalante listens to the verses carefully, motionless, as though they were a riddle, a code, or an oracle, and when Gutiérrez finishes speaking, his expression turns severe and brooding, attempting to interpret, for himself at least, its possible meanings. Then, gasping softly, he concludes, worriedly, It wouldnât surprise me , which, for some mysterious reason, or which, in any case, Nula interprets as such, apparently produces an inexplicable sense of satisfaction for Gutiérrez.
When they finish their vermouth, Escalante, who hasnât finished even half of the orange soda, offers them another round, which they decline. Nula, his back to the bar, throws three or four peanuts into the air, one after the other, and, twisting his head and rolling his eyes to follow their trajectory, catches them in his mouth. Then he is still again, and, looking across the room at the front door, watches the rain cross, obliquely, the light that projects onto the sidewalk against the backdrop of the night.
âAre you coming on Sunday? Gutiérrez says, signaling, indirectly, their imminent departure.
âI have to think about it, Escalante says.
âIf itâs because of your missing teeth, Gutiérrez saysâbringing his hand to his mouth and removing a set of dentures from the bottom row and leaving a gap in the middle of his bottom lipâI too can reveal my true face to the world.
Escalanteâs own face, impassive up until that moment, has become unstable, covered in folds, creases, and wrinkles, on his forehead, around his eyes and mouth, as though he were making a tremendous effort to hide an emotion, and he darkens slightly, possibly because his skin is so lustrous and dark that the blood that flows to his cheeks canât quite turn them red. Finally, the creases on his face disappear and Escalante is able to smile, and when his hand, his fingers curled, starts to move toward his mouth, he notices the gesture and stops it at his waist, hooking his thumb between his belt and the waistline of his pants. Nula, languidly chewing his peanuts, slows the movement of his jaws until they stop completely and his mouth is left half open as he stares at the other men, as the barman does, and who does so with an expression that combines surprise and uneasiness and even anger. Gutiérrez, with a gesture that vaguely resembles a magician or a variety show host, and which consists of holding the dentures aloft for the public, has also fallen still, displaying the false teeth mounted on a bridge of pink substance that resembles the color of his gums, and ends with two metal hooks that must attach to the actual teeth, and when he returns Escalanteâs smile, his lower lip, sunken into the hole that has opened in the middle of his face, folds and collapses into his mouth, disfiguring the countenance that Nula, over the course of their three meetings, had started to get used to. Slightly agitated, Nula thinks, And I thought he walked in here that way out of arrogance .
âAlright, fine, Escalante says. Maybe you convinced me. Maybe Iâll come.
While Nula thinks, What strange people , Gutiérrez, narrowing his eyes and rolling his pupils backward, reinserts the teeth and stops a few seconds to install them, tapping his upper row against the lower one to make sure theyâre in place.
âChacho, Escalante says to the barman. Do we have anything our friends could take back with them?
âLet me see if thereâs anything in the fridge, the man named Chacho says.
âNo,
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