Read Online Silver Bullets by Élmer Mendoza, Mark Fried - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Élmer Mendoza, Mark Fried
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maybe too much, and it worries me that she still gets those teenage tantrums. Well, even with all that, she is a far sight better than the good-for-nothings who came to visit you today. Two of his sons from other women had come to the house at noon to see about his condition, both were doctors, specialists, but the wife did not let them examine him, claiming Dr. Elenes was jealous about his patients. Neither of them is interested in this business, he sidestepped, serving himself more tea. I wouldn’t be so sure. They have their hospital, and it’s fully accredited, by the way. But they are human, and if they’re human they are ambitious and they aren’t going to just take things lying down, which is why you had better start thinking about Samantha, she grew up with you and you know everything about her, the others, well, who knows what tricks they might have up their sleeves. Again they fell silent.
Someone turned on the house lights. They heard a car come in. It was Samantha’s Hummer. She and Mariana got out, carrying the sleeping child; the señora called them over and took charge of the little boy, who continued sleeping, undisturbed. What are you up to, are you getting romantic? Yeah, right, your father won’t try to lasso me, he’s a bore. Is that true, Pa, aren’t you the big macho? Mariana went for cold drinks. It’s just that she doesn’t know how to dance. What do you mean, I’d even do a flamenco for you if I got the chance. I mean on horseback. Not even if I were nuts. Don’t say no, Ma, I’ll help you, I’ll hold the reins so you can mount. If we can dance on the floor, why do we have to dance in the air? The old guy wants to cut loose, Mama, you have to give him a chance. Mariana came back with two glasses of Coke. They continued talking until the girlsdeparted. Valdés still felt uncomfortable, something told him things were not right. That policeman, Mendieta, he was begging to be taught a lesson, how could it have occurred to him to bother him at home, was it not enough that he paid off the top brass to leave him in peace? By the time he went to bed, after a supper of toast and yogurt, he had made up his mind.
Fifteen
On Sunday he awoke with the image of the priest Bardominos in his thoughts. He got up feeling tired, he had slept with the television on and feeling troubled that he could not wipe such a hurtful image from his memory. He dragged up Parra’s words: Seek out intellectual enjoyment, mental exercises that give you pleasure, like learning something new, works of art, books, concerts, crossword puzzles; force yourself, most of our intelligence springs from our emotions and you cannot spend your whole life carrying around that open wound, it’s really important for you to fall in love.
He made a Nescafé and picked up the copy of the novel News from the Empire that Ortega had left him. Paola Rodríguez’s name was on the flyleaf. “I am Marie Charlotte of Belgium, Empress of Mexico and of America. I am Marie Charlotte Amélie, cousin of the Queen of England, Grand Magister of the cross of Saint Charles, and Vicereine of the Lombardo-Veneto Provinces, which Austria’s clemency and mercy has subsumed under the two-headed eagle of the House of Habsburgs.”
Well, now, he chuckled, if I remember correctly this woman went insane. Did Paola admire her? Was Bruno her Maximilian?Nobles who kill each other with silver bullets but would never desecrate the bodies, high-class people who demonstrate their decorum in their most villainous acts. Not bad; however, the weapons are not the same and suppose Ortega was wrong? Impossible.
He continued reading. The farther into the novel he got, the more absorbed he became, and that offered a break from his professional ruminations. At eleven the landline rang.
Hello. Edgar Mendieta? Yes. This is Samantha Valdés, I heard you were looking for me and I figured I’d call you first, where can we see each other in an hour?
What, now the ducks shoot
Someone turned on the house lights. They heard a car come in. It was Samantha’s Hummer. She and Mariana got out, carrying the sleeping child; the señora called them over and took charge of the little boy, who continued sleeping, undisturbed. What are you up to, are you getting romantic? Yeah, right, your father won’t try to lasso me, he’s a bore. Is that true, Pa, aren’t you the big macho? Mariana went for cold drinks. It’s just that she doesn’t know how to dance. What do you mean, I’d even do a flamenco for you if I got the chance. I mean on horseback. Not even if I were nuts. Don’t say no, Ma, I’ll help you, I’ll hold the reins so you can mount. If we can dance on the floor, why do we have to dance in the air? The old guy wants to cut loose, Mama, you have to give him a chance. Mariana came back with two glasses of Coke. They continued talking until the girlsdeparted. Valdés still felt uncomfortable, something told him things were not right. That policeman, Mendieta, he was begging to be taught a lesson, how could it have occurred to him to bother him at home, was it not enough that he paid off the top brass to leave him in peace? By the time he went to bed, after a supper of toast and yogurt, he had made up his mind.
Fifteen
On Sunday he awoke with the image of the priest Bardominos in his thoughts. He got up feeling tired, he had slept with the television on and feeling troubled that he could not wipe such a hurtful image from his memory. He dragged up Parra’s words: Seek out intellectual enjoyment, mental exercises that give you pleasure, like learning something new, works of art, books, concerts, crossword puzzles; force yourself, most of our intelligence springs from our emotions and you cannot spend your whole life carrying around that open wound, it’s really important for you to fall in love.
He made a Nescafé and picked up the copy of the novel News from the Empire that Ortega had left him. Paola Rodríguez’s name was on the flyleaf. “I am Marie Charlotte of Belgium, Empress of Mexico and of America. I am Marie Charlotte Amélie, cousin of the Queen of England, Grand Magister of the cross of Saint Charles, and Vicereine of the Lombardo-Veneto Provinces, which Austria’s clemency and mercy has subsumed under the two-headed eagle of the House of Habsburgs.”
Well, now, he chuckled, if I remember correctly this woman went insane. Did Paola admire her? Was Bruno her Maximilian?Nobles who kill each other with silver bullets but would never desecrate the bodies, high-class people who demonstrate their decorum in their most villainous acts. Not bad; however, the weapons are not the same and suppose Ortega was wrong? Impossible.
He continued reading. The farther into the novel he got, the more absorbed he became, and that offered a break from his professional ruminations. At eleven the landline rang.
Hello. Edgar Mendieta? Yes. This is Samantha Valdés, I heard you were looking for me and I figured I’d call you first, where can we see each other in an hour?
What, now the ducks shoot
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