blocked by a gate. He presses the doorbell and a spine-tingling mastiff, as quiet as a shadow, appears and begins to pace eagerly back and forth in front of him, never taking his eyes off him. He seems eager to plunge his fangs into this piece of meat that might dare enter his territory. The third, perched at the top of the slope, has a small wooden door in front of a log staircase that leads to a terrace, where a hammock is hanging and, behind that, some blue latticework. There’s no doorbell, so he claps his hands, but the only person who seems to hear him is a man coming down the hill carrying a bicycle on his shoulder.
I’m looking for a woman named Eva, do you know her? The man smiles widely and points to the house in front. Ah, sim. Senhora Eva. Do you know where I can find her? He scratches his head and gazes at Lascano with empty eyes. Where is she? Donde esta? Na praia. In the beach? Sim, na praia, barraquinha. Barraquinha? The Brazilian mimes drinking. Lascano imitates him. A bar on the beach? The man smiles and gestures for Perro to follow him.
Lascano discovers that going down is more difficult and dangerous than going up. The man he is following is a thin, sinewy mulatto whose feet know every single stone and obstacle, every crack along the way. Perro decides to step precisely where the man steps. When he reaches the street that borders the sea, the man gets on his bicycle and starts riding away. Lascano watches him leave without turning to look back. Lascano continues in the same direction. The man said there would be something orange. He said “they will be there”, or did he misunderstand? Lascano’s heart tightens when he considers the possibility that Eva is involved with someone. He needs to find out. He doesn’t know what he will do if that is the case. He doesn’t even know if he will approach her. He doesn’t want his appearance to cause any trouble for her, doesn’t want his life, which now has nothing to do with her, to upset whatever life she has managed to build. Eva, however, is the only thing he can see in his own future. Without her the world seems barren, useless, senseless. He is afraid of what he will find, but he continues on the tail of one specific memory.
After walking for ten minutes along that street paved with octagonal concrete tiles, he sees the mulatto about thirty yards ahead, standing next to his bicycle and pointing to the beach. When Lascano waves back to show that he sees, the man gets back on his bike and continues on his way. To Lascano’s right, between two houses, there’s a passageway at the end of which he can see the sea. He starts down it. It comes out a little above a terrace with orange-coloured umbrellas. Just as he’s about to take a step in that direction, he hears a familiar voice calling “Victoria”. A child appears, running toward the terrace. The little girl is laughing and carrying a black rag doll wearing a polka-dot dress. Eva appears right behind her. Her hair is loose, she’s very tanned and she’s wearing a bikini top and a beach towel on which multicoloured dragons, enlivened by her stride, are engaged in battle. Lascano has the same impression he had when he first saw her. The same feeling. The same agitation. The same sense of unreality. How to approach her? How to greet her? What words to use? What gestures, now that all he feels is the desire to shout and cry and die?… Just then a man appears on the terrace behind her and starts to walk toward her. The child jumps into his arms, he hugs her and presses her against his chest. The girl looks in Lascano’s direction. Again, those familiar eyes that seem to swirl as they stare at you. Eva’s eyes, her mother’s eyes, little Juan’s eyes and now Victoria’s eyes. The man comes up to Eva, takes her by the waist; she turns around slightly and kisses him on the lips. She is glowing, she looks happy and beautiful, but when the man turns around Lascano feels like he’s been struck by lightning: it is his friend Fuseli. He feels his knees weaken and buckle under him until he finds himself sitting on the stair at the end of the path and the beginning of the sand, the same sand over which Eva, Fuseli and little Victoria walk serenely toward the water. Behind them the sea lazily licks the shore; further out, the jungle islet fills with birds. His head is spinning; he feels as if he’s on the verge of passing out. The last thing he wants is to meet them in this state. He wants to be thousands of miles away, he wants to take off running, he feels he’s about to burst. He stands up, staggers back up the passageway to the street, where the sun is dazzling. A man is standing right there in front of him. He shields his eyes from the sun with his hand and recognizes him: it’s Miranda the Mole.
That’s all I needed. What the hell are you doing here? I came to find you. Me? I had to split; problems with a little prosecutor who had it in for me. And your family? Very well, thank you. The boy is all grown up and Duchess has had enough of me. No, really, can you please tell me what the hell you are doing in this place? Look, I had to decide from one minute to the next where to go, and this was the only place in the world where I knew somebody outside of Buenos Aires. You’re nuts. Look who’s talking. What are your plans? No idea. You? Me, neither. Didn’t work out with the girl you came to find, eh? How do you know? Come on Perro, you think you’re the only one who can make deductions? Look at your face. There’s another guy? I’d rather not talk about it. We don’t have to… And what about that story you told me about taking your grandson out for a walk, eh? That’s something I’d rather not talk about. We don’t have to…
As if obeying some kind of tacit agreement, Lascano and Miranda start walking up the street. Mole looks at the octagonal paving stones; Perro looks at the sea.
You going to tell me who snitched on me when you nabbed me at the pizzeria? You still on about that? Damn right. Nobody snitched, Mole, it was pure luck. Really? Don’t you know that you crooks are always unlucky?…
…Hey, they say up north is the place to be. Where to? Bahia? That’s all I need, to end up going to Bahia with this guy. What did you say? Nothing, don’t pay any attention to me. So, want to go? Whatever, I’m so fucked I don’t know whether to shit or go blind. Listen, I heard there are some banks in Salvador that are a piece of cake. Don’t start with that crap, Miranda, I’m not going to rob a bank with you. No, of course, not now, not when we’re loaded, but this dough isn’t going to last forever…
On the beach, Eva and Victoria are building a sandcastle. Fuseli lights a Tuscan cigar, turns, and looks down the alleyway leading to the street. A few minutes earlier he thought he saw a familiar figure, but then he decides it’s just his nostalgia playing tricks on him.
A few yards away, Lascano and Miranda keep arguing as they climb back up the hill.
