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POPEYE ARÉ VALO HAD SPENT the morning on the beach at Miraflores. You look toward the stairs in vain, the neighborhood girls tell him, Teté ’s not coming. And, as a matter of fact, Teté didn’t go swimming that morning. Defrauded, he went home before noon, but while he was going up the hill on Quebrada he could see Teté ’s little nose, her curls, her small eyes, and he grew emotional: when are you going to notice me, when, Teté? He reached home with his reddish hair still damp, his freckled face burning from the sun. He found the senator waiting for him: come here, Freckle Face, they would have a little chat. They shut themselves up in the study and the senator, did he still want to study architecture? Yes, papa, of course he wanted to. Except that the entrance exam was so hard, a whole bunch took it and only a small few got in. But he’d grind and he’d probably get in. The senator was happy that he’d finished high school without failing any courses and since the end of the year he’d been like a mother to him, in January he’d increased his allowance from twenty to forty soles. But even then Popeye didn’t expect so much: well, Freckle Face, since it was hard to get into Architecture it would be better not to take a chance this year, he could enroll in the prep course and study hard, and that way you’ll get in next year for sure: what did he think, Freckle Face? Wild, papa, Popeye’s face lighted up even more, his eyes glowed. He’d grind, he’d kill himself studying and the next year he’d get in for sure. Popeye had been afraid of a deadly summer, no swimming, no matinees, no parties, days and nights all soaked up in math, physics and chemistry, and, in spite of so much sacrifice, I won’t get in and my vacation will be completely wasted. There it was, recovered now, the beach of Miraflores, the waves of Herradura, the bay of Ancó n, and the images were as real, the orchestra seats in the Leuro, the Montecarlo and the Colina, as wild, the dance halls where he and Teté danced boleros, as those of a technicolor movie. Are you happy? the senator asked, and he quite happy. What a nice person he is, he thought as they went into the dining room, and the senator that’s right, Freckle Face, just as soon as summer’s over he’ll break his hump, did he promise? and Popeye swore he would, papa. During lunch the senator teased him, Zavala’s daughter still hadn’t given you a tumble, Freckle Face? and he blushed: a little bit now, papa. You’re too much of a child to have a girl friend, his old lady said, he should still keep away from foolishness. What an idea, he’s already grown up, the senator said, and besides, Teté was a pretty girl. Don’t let your arm be twisted, Freckle Face, women like to be begged, it had been awful rough on him courting the old lady, and the old lady dying with laughter. The telephone rang and the butler came running: your friend Santiago, child. He had to see him urgently, Freckle Face. At three o’clock at the Cream Rica on Larco, Skinny? At three on the dot, Freckle Face. Was your brother-in-law going to beat the tar out of you if you didn’t leave Teté alone, Freckle Face? the senator smiled, and Popeye thought what a good mood he’s in today. Nothing like that, he and Santiago were buddies, but the old lady frowned: that boy’s got a screw loose, don’t you think? Popeye raised a spoonful of ice cream to his mouth, who said that? another of meringue, maybe he could convince Santiago for them to go to his house and listen to records and call Teté just to talk a little, Skinny. Zoila herself had said so at canasta last Friday, the old lady insisted. Santiago was giving her and Fermí n a lot of headaches lately, he spent all day fighting with Teté and Sparky, he’d become disobedient and he talked back. Skinny had come out first in the final exams, Popeye protested, what more did his old man and old lady want?

“He doesn’t want to go to the Catholic University but to San Marcos, ” Señ ora Zoila said. “That upset Fermí n very much. ”

“I’ll bring him to his senses, Zoila, don’t you get involved, ” Don Fermí n said. “He’s at the foolish age, you have to know how to lead him. If you fight with him, he’ll get all the more stubborn. ”

“If instead of advice you’d give him a couple of whacks, he’d pay more attention to you, ” Señ ora Zoila said. “The one who doesn’t know how to raise him is you. ”

“She married that boy who used to come to the house, ” Santiago says. “Popeye Aré valo, Freckle Face Aré valo. ”

“Skinny doesn’t get along with his old man because they don’t have the same ideas, ” Popeye said.

“And what ideas does that snotnose still wet behind the ears have? ” The senator laughed.

“Study hard, get your law degree and you can dip your spoon into politics, ” Don Fermí n said. “Right, Skinny? ”

“Skinny gets mad because his old man backed Odrí a in his revolt against Bustamante, ” Popeye said. “He’s against the military. ”

“Is he a Bustamantist? ” the senator asked. “And Fermí n thinks he’s the genius of the family. He can’t be much of that if he admires that weak sister Bustamante. ”

“He might have been a weak sister, but he was a decent person and he’d been a diplomat, ” Popeye’s old lady said. “Odrí a, on the other hand, is a coarse soldier and a half-breed. ”

“Don’t forget that I’m an Odrí ist senator, ” the senator laughed, “so stop half-breeding Odrí a, silly. ”

“He’s got the notion of going to San Marcos because he doesn’t like priests and because he wants to go where the people go, ” Popeye said. “He’s really doing it because he’s an againster. If his folks told him to go to San Marcos, he’d say no, Catholic University. ”

“Zoila’s right, at San Marcos he’d lose his contacts, ” Popeye’s old lady said. “Boys from good families go to the Catholic University. ”

“There are enough Indians at the Catholic University to give you a good scare too, mama, ” Popeye said.

“With all the money Fermí n’s bringing in now that he’s buddy-buddy with Cayo Bermú dez, the squirt won’t need any contacts, ” the senator said. “O. K., Freckle Face, on your way. ”

Popeye left the table, brushed his teeth, combed his hair and went out. It was only two-fifteen, it was better to go along marking time. Aren’t we pals, Santiago? come on, give me a little push with Teté. He went up Larco blinking in the sunlight and stopped to look in the windows of the Casa Nelson: those deerskin moccasins with brown shorts and that yellow shirt, wild. He got to the Cream Rica before Santiago, settled down at a table from where he could see the avenue, and ordered a vanilla milk shake. If he couldn’t convince Santiago to go listen to records at his house they would go to the matinee or to gamble at Coco Becerra’s, what was it that Skinny wanted to talk to him about. And at that moment Santiago came in, long face, feverish eyes: his folks had fired Amalia, Freckle Face. The doors of the branch of the Banco de Cré dito had just opened and through the windows of the Cream Rica Popeye watched the revolving doors swallow up the people who had been waiting on the sidewalk. The sun was shining, the express buses went by loaded, men and women fought for taxis on the corner of Shell. Why had they waited until now to throw her out, Skinny? Santiago shrugged his shoulders, his folks didn’t want him to think that they were firing her because of the business of the other night, as if he was so stupid. He seemed even thinner with that mournful face, his jet black hair raining over his forehead. The waiter came over and Santiago pointed to Popeye’s glass, vanilla too? yes. After all, it’s not so bad, Popeye cheered him up, she’ll get another job soon, they need maids all over. Santiago looked at his nails: Amalia was a nice person, when Sparky, Teté, or I were in a bad mood they let off steam abusing her and she never told the folks on us, Freckle Face. Popeye stirred his milk shake with the straw, how can I convince you to go listen to records at your place, brother-in-law? he sucked in the froth.

“Your old lady made her complaints to the senator’s wife about the San Marcos business, ” he said.

“She can take her complaints to the King of Rome, ” Santiago said.

“If San Marcos upsets them so much, enroll at the Catholic University, what difference does it make to you? ” Popeye said. “Or are they tougher at the Catholic University? ”

“My folks don’t give a damn about that, ” Santiago said. “They don’t like San Marcos because there are half-breeds there and because there’s a lot of politics, only for that reason. ”

“You’ve got yourself into a bind, ” Popeye said. “You’re always against everything, you put everything down and you take things too much to heart. Don’t give your life a bitter taste just for the hell of it, Skinny. ”

“Put your advice back in your pocket, ” Santiago said.

“Don’t act as if you were so smart, Skinny, ” Popeye said. “It’s all right for you to be a grind, but there’s no reason for thinking that everyone else is a half-wit. Last night you treated Coco in a way that made me wonder why he didn’t kill you. ”

“If I don’t feel like going to mass I don’t have to make excuses to that sexton, ” Santiago said.

“You’re playing the atheist too now, ” Popeye said.

“I’m not playing the atheist, ” Santiago said. “The fact that I don’t like priests doesn’t mean that I don’t believe in God. ”

“What do they say at home about your not going to church? ” Popeye asked. “What does Teté say, for example? ”

“That business about the Indian girl has got me all bitter, Freckle Face, ” Santiago said.

“Forget about it, don’t be a fool, ” Popeye said. “Speaking of Teté, why didn’t she come to the beach this morning? ”

“She went to the Regatas Club with some girl friends, ” Santiago said. “I don’t know why you haven’t learned your lesson. ”

“The redhead, the one with freckles, ” Ambrosio says. “Senator Emilio Aré valo’s boy, sure. Did she marry him? ”

“I don’t like people with red hair or people with freckles. ” Teté made a face. “And he’s both. Ugh, it makes me sick. ”

“What upsets me most is that they fired her because of me, ” Santiago said.

“You should have said because of Sparky, ” Popeye consoled him. “You didn’t know what yohimbine was. ”

Santiago’s brother was only called Sparky now, but before, during the time he decided to show off at the Terrazas Club lifting weights, they called him Sparky Tarzan. He’d been a cadet at the Naval School for a few months and when they expelled him (he said for having struck an ensign), he drifted around for quite a while, given over to gambling and drinking and playing the tough. He would show up at San Fernando Square and go over menacingly to Santiago, pointing to Popeye, Toñ o, Coco, or Lalo: come on, Superbrain, with which one of them did he want to match his strength. But since he went to work in Don Fermí n’s office he’d become very proper.

“I knew what it was but I’d never seen it, ” Santiago said. “Do you think it drives women crazy? ”

“One of Sparky’s stories, ” Popeye whispered. “Did he tell you it drives them crazy? ”

“It does, but if you lay a hand on them you could turn them into a corpse, Sparky boy, ” Ambrosio said. “Don’t get me into any trouble. Remember that if your papa catches on to it, I’ve had it. ”

“And did he tell you that with one spoonful any female would throw herself at you? ” Popeye whispered. “Stories, Skinny. ”

“It would have to be tested, ” Santiago said. “Even if only to see if it’s true, Freckle Face. ”

He was silent, with an attack of nervous laughter, and Popeye laughed too. They nudged each other, the hard thing was to find the one to do it with, excited, worn out, that was it, and the table and the milk shakes trembled with the quivering: they were crazy, Skinny. What had Sparky told him when he gave it to him? Sparky and Santiago got on like cat and dog and whenever he could Sparky played dirty tricks on Skinny and Skinny on Sparky whenever he could: it was probably one of your brother’s dirty tricks, Skinny. No, Freckle Face, Sparky had come home like an Easter angel, I won a lot of money at the track, and what was unheard of, before going to bed he went into Santiago’s room to give him some advice: it’s time for you to shake yourself up, aren’t you ashamed of still being a virgin, a big man like you? and he offered him a cigarette. Don’t be scared, Sparky said, have you got a girl friend? Santiago lied that he did and Sparky, worried: it’s time to devirginize you, Skinny, it really is.

“Haven’t I been asking you all the time to take me to a whorehouse? ” Santiago said.

“You might catch something and the old man would kill me, ” Sparky said. “Besides, real men earn what they get, they don’t pay for it. You play the know-it-all and you’re up on the moon when it comes to females, Superbrain. ”

“I don’t play the know-it-all, ” Santiago said. “I attack when I’m attacked. Come on, Sparky, take me to a whorehouse. ”

“Then why do you argue with the old man so much? You get him all upset opposing everything he says. ”

“I only oppose him when he starts defending Odrí a and the militarists, ” Santiago said. “Come on, Sparky. ”

“And why are you against the military? ” Sparky asked. “What the fuck has Odrí a ever done to you? ”

“They came to power by force, ” Santiago said. “Odrí a’s put a lot of people in jail. ”

“Only Apristas and Communists, ” Sparky said. “He’s really been gentle with them. I would have shot them all. The country was a mess under Bustamante, decent people couldn’t work in peace. ”

“Then you’re not a decent person, ” Santiago said, “because in Bustamante’s time you were bumming around. ”

“You’re asking for a whack, Superbrain, ” Sparky said.

“I’ve got my ideas and you’ve got yours, ” Santiago said. “Come on, take me to a whorehouse. ”

“The whorehouse is out, ” Sparky said, “but I will help you work it out with a woman. ”

“And do they sell yohimbine in drugstores? ” Popeye asked.

“Under the counter, ” Santiago said. “It’s kind of illegal. ”

“A little bit in a Coca-Cola, on a hot dog, ” Sparky said, “and you wait for it to take effect. When she starts to get a little restless then it’s up to you. ”

“How old do they have to be for you to give it to them, just for example, Sparky? ” Santiago asked.

“You wouldn’t be dumb enough to give it to a ten-year-old. ” Sparky laughed. “You can to one who’s fourteen, but just a little. Except that at that age it won’t make it easier for you, you’ll get into a crazy mess. ”

“Is it real? ” Popeye asked. “Couldn’t he have given you a little salt or sugar? ”

“I tested it with the tip of my tongue, ” Santiago said. “It hasn’t got any smell, it’s a powder with a little bite to it. ”

On the street there was an increase in the number of people who were trying to get into the crowded taxis and express buses. They didn’t stand in line, they were a small mob waving their hands at the buses with blue and white grilles that passed without stopping. Suddenly, among the bodies, two tiny identical silhouettes, two heads of dark hair: the Valler-riestra twins. Popeye pushed the curtain aside and waved to them, but they didn’t see him or didn’t recognize him. They were tapping their heels impatiently, their fresh and tanned little faces kept looking at the clock on the Banco de Cré dito, they must have been going to some matinee downtown, Skinny. Every time a taxi approached they went out onto the street with a determined air, but they always lost their place.

“They’re probably going by themselves, ” Popeye said. “Let’s go to the matinee with them, Skinny. ”

“Are you dying for Teté, yes or no, turncoat? ” Santiago asked.

“I’m dying only for Teté, ” Popeye said. “Of course, if instead of the matinee you want to go to your house and listen to records, I’m all for it. ”

Santiago shook his head without enthusiasm: he’d got hold of some money, he was going to take it to the Indian girl, she lived around there, in Surquillo. Popeye opened his eyes, to Amalia? and began to laugh, are you going to give her your allowance because your folks threw her out? Not my allowance, Santiago snapped the straw in two, he’d taken a hundred soles from the piggy bank. And Popeye put a finger to his temple: heading right for the booby hatch, Skinny. It was my fault they fired her, Santiago said, what was so bad about giving her a little money? Even if you’d fallen in love with the Indian, Skinny, a hundred soles was a lot of money, with that we can invite the twins to the movies. But at that moment the twins were getting into a green Morris and Popeye too late, brother. Santiago had started to smoke.

“I don’t think that Sparky gave any yohimbine to his girl friend, he made that up to look like a devil, ” Popeye said. “Would you give yohimbine to a decent girl? ”

“Not to my sweetheart, ” Santiago said. “But why not to a half-breed girl? ”

“So what are you going to do? ” Popeye whispered. “Are you going to give it to someone or are you going to throw it away? ”

He’d thought about throwing it away, Freckle Face, and Santiago lowered his voice and blushed, then he was thinking and he stammered, that’s when he got an idea. Just to see what it was like, Freckle Face, what did he think.

“So stupid there’s no name for it, you can do a thousand things with a hundred soles, ” Popeye said. “But it’s up to you, it’s your money. ”

“Come with me, Freckle Face, ” Santiago said. “It’s right here, in Surquillo. ”

“But then we’ll go to your house to hear records, ” Popeye said. “And you’ll call Teté. ”

“You really are a shithead suitor, Freckle Face, ” Santiago said.

“And what if your folks find out? ” Popeye asked. “What about Sparky? ”

“My folks are going to Ancó n and won’t be back until Monday, ” Santiago said. “And Sparky’s gone to a friend’s ranch. ”

“Be prepared in case it doesn’t agree with her, in case she faints on us, ” Popeye said.

“We’ll only give her a little bit, ” Santiago said. “Don’t be chicken, Freckle Face. ”

A small light went on in Popeye’s eyes, do you remember when we spied on Amalia in Ancó n, Skinny? From the roof you could see the servants’ bathroom, two faces side by side in the skylight and below a hazy outline, a black bathrobe, delicious, the half-breed, Skinny. The couple at the next table got up and Ambrosio pointed to the woman: that one was a hooker, son, she spent the day in La Catedral looking for customers. They saw the couple go out onto Larco, saw them cross the Calle Shell. The bus stop was deserted now. Express buses and taxis passed half empty now. They called the waiter, split the check, and how did he know that she was a hooker? Because besides being a restaurant and bar La Catedral was also a pickup place, son, behind the kitchen there was a little room and they rented it for two soles an hour. They went along Larco, looking at the girls who were coming out of the shops, the women pushing carriages with crying babies. In the park Popeye bought Ú ltima Hora and read the gossip aloud, thumbed through the sports pages, and as they passed in front of La Tiendecita Bianca hi, Lalo. On the Alameda Ricardo Palma they crumpled the newspaper and took a few steps until it fell apart and was abandoned on a corner in Surquillo.

“All we need is for Amalia to get mad and tell me to go to hell, ” Santiago said.

“A hundred soles is a fortune, ” Popeye said. “Shell receive you like a king. ”

They were near the Cine Miraflores, across from the market with booths of wood, matting and awnings where flowers, ceramics and fruit were sold, and into the street there came shots, galloping, Indian war cries, children’s voices: Death in Arizona, They stopped to look at the posters: a cowboy picture, Skinny.

“I’m a little jumpy, ” Santiago said. “I couldn’t get to sleep last night, that must be why. ”

“You’re jumpy because you’ve lost your nerve, ” Popeye said. “You put on for me, nothing’s going to happen, don’t be chicken, and at the zero hour you’re the one who loses his nerve. Let’s go to the movies, then. ”

“I haven’t lost my nerve, it’s passed, ” Santiago said. “Wait, I’m going to see if my folks have left. ”

The car wasn’t there, they’d gone. They went in through the garden, passed by the tiled fountain, and what if she’d gone to bed, Skinny? They’d wake her up, Freckle Face. Santiago opened the door, the click of the switch and the shadows turned into rugs, pictures, mirrors, tables with ashtrays, lamps. Popeye was going to sit down but, Santiago, let’s go up to my room first. A courtyard, a study, a stairway with an iron railing. Santiago left Popeye on the landing, go in and put some music on, he was going to call her. School pennants, a picture of Sparky, another one of Teté in her first-communion dress, beautiful Popeye thought, a big-eared, snouty pig on the bureau, he picked it up, how much money could there be. He sat down on the bed, turned on the clock radio, a waltz by Felipe Pinglo, steps, Skinny: everything O. K., Freckle Face. He’d found her awake, bring me up some Coca-Colas, and they laughed: shh, she was coming, could it be her? Yes, there she was at the door, surprised, examining them with suspicion. She’d folded up against the door, a pink jumper and a blouse without buttons, she didn’t say anything. It was Amalia and it wasn’t, Popeye thought, how could it be the one in a blue apron who went through Skinny’s house with trays or a duster in her hands. Her hair was tangled now, good afternoon, child, a pair of men’s shoes and you could see she was frightened: hello, Amalia.

“My mother said you’d left the house, ” Santiago said. “What a shame that you’re leaving. ”

Amalia left the door, looked at Popeye, how was he, young master, who smiled at her in a friendly way from the sidewalk, and turned to Santiago: she hadn’t left because she wanted to, Señ ora Zoila had thrown her out. But why, ma’am, and Señ ora Zoila because she felt like it, pack your bags this instant. She spoke and was making her hair peaceful with her hands, adjusting her blouse. Santiago listened to her with an uncomfortable face. She didn’t want to leave the house, child, she’d begged the mistress.

“Put the tray on the table, ” Santiago said. “Stay awhile, we’re listening to music. ”

Amalia put the tray with the glasses and the Coca-Cola in front of the picture of Sparky and remained standing by the bureau, her face puzzled. She was wearing the white dress and low-heeled shoes of her uniform but not the apron or the cap. Why was she standing there? come here, sit down, there’s room. How could she sit down, and she gave a little laugh, the mistress didn’t like her to go into the boys’ rooms, didn’t he know? Silly, my mother’s not home, Santiago’s voice suddenly became tense, neither he nor Popeye would tell on her, sit down, silly. Amalia laughed again, he said that now but as soon as he got annoyed he’d tell on her and the mistress would take it out on her. I swear that Skinny won’t tell on you, Popeye said, don’t make us beg you and sit down. Amalia looked at Santiago, looked at Popeye, sat down on a corner of the bed and now her face was serious. Santiago got up, went to the tray, don’t let your hand slip, Popeye thought and looked at Amalia: did she like the way that group sang? He pointed to the radio, the real thing, right? She liked it, they sang pretty. She had her hands on her knees, she kept herself stiff, she was squinting as if to hear better: they were the Trovadores del Norte, Amalia. Santiago was still pouring the Coca-Colas and Popeye was spying on him, uneasy. Did Amalia know how to dance? Waltzes, boleros, guarachas? Amalia smiled, turned serious, smiled again: no, she didn’t know how. She moved a little closer to the edge of the bed, crossed her arms. Her movements were forced, as if her clothes were too tight or her back itched: her shadow was motionless on the floor.

“I brought you this for you to buy something, ” Santiago said.

“Me? ” Amalia looked at the banknotes, without taking them. “But Señ ora Zoila paid me for the whole month, child. ”

“My mother didn’t send it to you, ” Santiago said. “I’m giving it to you. ”

“But why should you be giving me your money, child? ” Her cheeks were red, she looked confusedly at Skinny. “How can I accept it? ”

“Don’t be foolish, ” Santiago insisted. “Go ahead, Amalia. ”

He set the example for her: he lifted up his glass and drank. Now they were playing “Siboney, ” and Popeye had opened the window: the garden, the small trees on the street lighted by the lamppost on the corner, the trembling surface of the fountain, the tile base glimmering, I hope nothing happens, Skinny. Well, child, to your health, and Amalia took a long drink, sighed and took the glass away from her lips half empty: delicious, nice and cold. Popeye went over to the bed.

“If you want, we can teach you how to dance, ” Santiago said. “That way, when you get a boyfriend you’ll be able to go to parties with him without being a wallflower. ”

“She probably has a boyfriend already, ” Popeye said. “Tell the truth, Amalia, have you got one? ”

“Look how she’s laughing, Freckle Face. ” Santiago took her by the arm. “Of course you have, we’ve found out your secret, Amalia. ”

“You have, you have. ” Popeye dropped down beside her, took her other arm. “Look at the way you’re laughing, you devil. ”

Amalia was twisting with laughter and shook her arms but they didn’t let her go, how could she have one, child, she didn’t, she elbowed them to keep them away. Santiago put his arm around her waist, Popeye put a hand on her knee, and Amalia a slap: none of that, child, no touching her. But Popeye returned to the attack: devil, devil. She probably even knew how to dance and was lying that she couldn’t, come on, confess: all right, child, she accepted. She took the bills that wrinkled in her fingers, just to prove to Santiago that she didn’t want to beg, that’s all, and she put them in the pocket of her jumper. But she was sorry to take his money, now he wouldn’t have any even for the Sunday matinee.

“Don’t worry, ” Popeye said. “If he hasn’t got any, we’ll take up a collection in the neighborhood and invite him. ”

“Friends that you are, ” and Amalia opened her eyes as if remembering. “But come in, even if just for a minute. Excuse my poor place. ”

She didn’t give them time to refuse, she went running into the house and they followed her. Grease spots and soot, a few chairs, religious pictures, two unmade beds. They couldn’t stay very long, Amalia, they had an appointment. She nodded, dusted the table in the center of the room with her skirt, just a few minutes. A malicious spark broke out in her eyes, would they wait for her and talk a little while? she was going to buy something to serve them, she’d be right back. Santiago and Popeye looked at each other surprised, delighted, she’s a different person, Skinny, she’s gone batty. Her laughter echoed through the whole room, her face was sweaty and there were tears in her eyes, her bravado had infected the bed with a squeaking shudder. Now she too was accompanying the music with clapping: yes, yes she knew how. Once they had taken her to Agua Dulce and she’d danced at a place where an orchestra was playing, she’s completely mad Popeye thought. He stood up, turned off the radio, turned on the phonograph, went back to the bed. Now he wanted to see her dance, how happy you are, you devil, come on let’s go, but Santiago got up: he was going to dance with her, Freckle Face. You bastard, Popeye thought, you take advantage because she’s your servant, and what if Teté appeared? and he felt his knees weaken and a desire to leave, bastard. Amalia had stood up and was doing steps by herself across the room, bumping into the furniture, clumsy and heavy, humming, spinning blindly, until Santiago embraced her. Popeye leaned his head on the pillow, reached out his hand and turned out the lamp, darkness, then the glow of the street light sketchily illuminated the two silhouettes. Popeye watched them floating in a circle, heard Amalia’s shrill voice, and put his hand in his pocket, did he see that she did know how to dance, child? When the record was over and Santiago came back to sit on the bed Amalia kept leaning against the window, her back to them, laughing: Sparky was right, look what’s happened to her, shut up you bastard. She was talking, singing and laughing as if she were drunk, she didn’t even see them, her eyes were rolling, Freckle Face, Santiago was a little frightened, what if she faints? Stop talking nonsense, Popeye said in his ear, bring her to the bed. His voice was determined, urgent, he had a hard on, Skinny, didn’t you? anguished, thick: he too, Freckle Face. They would undress her, they would fondle her: they would jump her, Skinny. Leaning halfway out over the garden, Amalia was slowly swaying, murmuring something, and Popeye made out her silhouette outlined against the dark sky: another record, another record. Santiago stood up, a background of violins and the voice of Leo Marini, pure velvet Popeye thought, and he saw Santiago go to the balcony. The two shadows came together, he’d given him the idea for all this and now he had him twiddling his thumbs in great shape, you’ll pay me for this trick, you bastard. They weren’t even moving now, the breed girl was short and seemed to be hanging from Skinny, he must have been petting her beautifully, it was too much, and he imagined Santiago’s voice, aren’t you tired? clogged up and weak and as if she were strangled, did she want to lie down? bring her over, he thought. They were beside him, Amalia was dancing like a sleepwalker, her eyes were closed, Skinny’s hands ran up and down, disappeared behind her back and Popeye couldn’t make out their faces, he was kissing her and he an innocent bystander, it was too much, help yourselves, boys.