… in Puerto del Este, I remember the esplanade, I remember the yachts, how they caught your attention, rich people always catch the attention, right?, whenever I see a yacht I think about who cleans the bathroom, and I remember the sun, the bicycles, I remember the people strolling in their swimming costumes, surrounded by light, happy, happy, like they weren’t going to die, you ran through them, I remember.
For me the last day of our trip was, how can I explain, sad and at the same time a relief, do you understand?, we’d done it, no one could take that away from us, or could they, you’ll think I’m crazy, but I got so nervous while you were swimming, I was watching you from the beach and thinking: what if he gets a cramp?, what if suddenly we lose this memory?, I swear, each time you put your head under the water, I swear, I stopped breathing, I looked at the men closest to me, I saw which ones were strongest, the ones I’d ask for help, because, you see, son, I can’t swim, I was always too ashamed to tell you, and then your head bobbed up once more and I could breathe again, of course nothing happened to you, nothing could’ve happened, you were fearless.
The rest of the journey was more or less okay, we were late, your mother started calling and then there was that storm, what a downpour, right?, I was worried we’d miss dinner, and that dinner was important, in the end, I admit, I drove too fast, and, to make matters worse, on a wet road, risk is a strange thing, you think you’re being careful, that you’re protecting the things you most care about, and then you accelerate knowing you shouldn’t, and then you regret it, and the next time you accelerate again, I was soaked when we arrived, out of breath, my head was pounding, but I made it, we made it, I think your Mum had had her doubts, she almost looked surprised, her face as she greeted us, she was crying, laughing, she kept hugging us, and yes, she had to heat up the joint, and the three of us made a toast, do you remember?, you even had some wine, and we told your Mum lots of stories, you elaborated everything, it was great, and you gobbled down a superhuman helping of ice cream, what’s in your stomach, shark-in-a-cap?, and you went to bed, and we stayed up talking, and I smoked for the first time in months, and Mum didn’t say anything, and then I just fell asleep, like I’d passed out, and as far as I know I didn’t dream.
And what else? well, nothing, I got sicker and here I am, it was very soon after you left, do you remember how we said goodbye?, the two of us were in the garage, what a place for a ceremony, huh?, Mum was taking you to your grandparents, she sat in the car, she didn’t get out, she preferred to leave us on our own, the drive would take three hours, and I asked you the time, and you looked at your watch proudly, and then I gave you a hug, a long hug, and I told you not to forget to fasten your seatbelt, that was it, that was all, all I was capable of saying was fasten your seatbelt, I’d even thought up an animal for you, a sea animal I guess, but I totally forgot, I’d imagined this scene so many times, I suppose this is what real goodbyes are like, right?, out of place, clumsy.
What I haven’t forgotten, you see, is hugging you, I don’t know what you felt, bah, I mean, whether you felt anything, I’m not sure I did right then either, what I know is what I feel now, when I look back, I remember so clearly the heat from your head, the smell of shampoo, the downy hair on the nape of your neck, that vertebra that sticks out more than the others, your pointy shoulders, and remembering these things, experiencing them all over again, is like untying myself, you understand?, and all of a sudden I stop envying healthy people, well, I’m lying, I still envy them, but I also pity them, do you know what the mother of a sick girl told me the other day?, that everyone had, what was it she said?, four dimensions, that we were born whole, and that—come in, yes, come in.
What was I going to?, oh yes, the four-dimensional thing, so this woman was telling me that we were already whole, that from the beginning our lives contained our birth and death, and that we only saw ourselves grow up or grow old because we perceived ourselves bit by bit, can you believe it?, but that actually the child and the old person exist simultaneously, or something like that, it sounded crazy to me, her daughter is dying and she tries to, to resign herself, you know?, to experience it as something natural, I’d understand much better, I don’t know, if she went round kicking in monitors, pulling out cables, punching the doctors, I think it’s, my forehead’s a bit, I’m going to ask for a thermometer.
Your mum didn’t want to leave, I had to insist, bah, to force her to, I’ve been thinking, you know?, about what I told you yesterday, about that poor woman, the thing that used to scare me most, was dying young, I was obsessed with reaching old age, I felt entitled, what a fool, right?, what’s strange is to live the way I did when I was healthy, time is never long enough, it always, so to speak, falls short, they say the perfect way to die is in your sleep, without even noticing, I’m not so sure, I think I’d rather feel it, I want to live my death, it’s all I have left, I don’t want it taken away from me, when you reach my age, more or less, perhaps you’ll start to feel protective, and you’re not going to have a father to look after, there’ll be no father to enable you to be that son, I’ll be a lost opportunity, and so now, well, now comes the advice, I feel a bit ridiculous, the ideal thing would be for you to observe me half your life and think: all right, let’s salvage this and this from the misguided man who is my father, and let the devil take the rest, too bad, we can’t, we can’t.
Enjoy life, do you hear?, it’s hard work enjoying life, and have patience, not too much, and look after yourself as if you knew you won’t always be young, even though you won’t know it and that’s okay, and have plenty of sex, son, do it for your sake and mine and even your mother’s, lots of sex, and if you have children, have them late, and go to the beach in winter, in winter it’s better, you’ll see, my head hurts yet I feel good, it’s hard to explain, and go travelling on your own once in a while, and try not to fall in love all the time, and care about your looks, do you hear me?, men who don’t care about their looks are afraid of being queer, and if you are queer, be a man, in short, advice isn’t much use, if you disagree with it you don’t listen, and if you already agree you don’t need it, never trust advice, son, travel agents advise you to go places they’ve never been, you’ll love me more when you’re old, I thought of my father the moment we got down from the truck, our true love for our parents is posthumous, forgive me for that, I’m already proud of the things you’re going to do, I love the way you count the time on your fingers when you set the alarm clock, or do you think I don’t see?, you do it secretly, under the covers, so I won’t know you have difficulty working it out, I’m going to ask you a favour, whatever happens, whatever age you are, don’t stop counting the time on your fingers, promise me, octopus.
It’s getting dark there, in the window, your mum will be here soon, I’ll go on tomorrow, I’m hungry, I’m sleepy, there’s a new nurse who looks a lot like your mother when she was young, her name is Alicia, she’s very kind, she’s going to get me some pasta even though chicken’s on the menu, Alicia is a good name for a girl, don’t you think?