Narcosis. Francisco GarófaloЧитать онлайн книгу.
differently to me. They had parents who taught them things and cared about their education. They had set times for watching television. To see their favourite programmes, first they had to study and do their homework, then their parents gave them advice on this or that over an afternoon snack before they got their prize, time in front of the television. Every night at bedtime, their parents read them fables with morals so that they learnt good things and would grow up to become successful professionals. However, false words never bear fruit.
You can’t teach by saying one thing and doing the opposite. The best way to teach is by example. We should talk less and do what we say. Imposing is not the way. Encouragement is better.
If you want your child to take an interest in reading, let them see you reading. If you don’t want them to lie, don’t lie yourself. That is how to educate. You can’t educate if you don’t set an example. You can’t harvest healthy fruit if you sow weeds. You can’t do it, however much you may want to.
IV
I didn’t count for anything in that house, left to fester in any old corner. If I wanted to change my lot in life, I would have to do it myself. Only my cousin Carla, who was eight years old, helped me or showed me any sign of affection, although I think really it was a sentiment more akin to pity.
Carla was the only one who showed any concern for me and it is thanks to her that I survived in that house.
I gave a name to the pity she felt.
That day of my fifth birthday, I went upstairs to my Aunt Carlota’s room to steal some money from her as I had realised that was my only way of getting any money to help me escape.
I had no other options.
I had learnt how do it – another lesson from the television programmes.
I opened the door to her room very gradually as I wasn’t sure if she had gone out.
I went in very slowly, trying not to make any noise. I looked inside and saw my aunt laying on her bed next to a man who was not her husband. I moved a little closer to look at the guy’s face and I saw that it was don Arnulfo’s best friend, don Nicolás.
You can’t always see what is happening under your nose but know that the truth will always come out. However much you try to hide it, however much you think nobody can see you, know that they are watching you; nothing stays hidden forever and we pay for everything in this life.
Don Nico, as everybody called him, always came to the house for lunch and everybody adored him, nobody more so than don Arnulfo who always spoke highly of him. He used to say that don Nicolás was his best friend and that was why he thought of him as a brother.
That day I realised why my aunt was never annoyed when they arrived home drunk. Instead, she took care of them and quickly took don Arnulfo to the bedroom so he could sleep, then took don Nicolás to the other bedroom and stayed with him for a few hours before going back to her husband. I also realised why my aunt always invited don Nicolás over when her children were at school and her husband was at work; they spent the time ensconced in the bedroom. I never said anything because I didn’t understand but that day I realised what was really going on.
My aunt was like the evil women in novels. Those women who cheat on their husbands while giving the impression of being saints. Those heartless women who only think about money. Like the first woman who existed in the world. Like the woman who ate the forbidden fruit. The one who led the man to his downfall. To adultery.
I must admit that I hated my aunt. And I had been presented with an opportunity for revenge.
An idea went round in my mind. I liked it and for the first time I felt a desire. A desire that grew in intensity inside me.
V
I rushed out of my aunt’s bedroom to look for Carla. She was the only one I could confide in. I knew she could help me unmask my aunt. I wanted her to know that her mother was a hussy, not because I wanted to hurt her but so she could see what her mother was doing, and in my stupid brain I thought she would be grateful to me.
I don’t know why I looked for her. This news would cause her pain, it would break her heart. Maybe it was because she was the only one I trusted, because I felt she understood me.
I searched the whole house but I couldn’t find her. I looked in the garden, in her bedroom and finally I found her in the kitchen helping to prepare the food. Another quality in her favour.
She was a girl who always liked helping other people. She never looked down on the maid or treated her badly. She always helped her with her duties.
I grabbed her by the arm, without saying a single word to her, and I took her with me.
On the way to my aunt’s bedroom, she asked, ‘Where are you taking me?’
‘I want you to see something.’
‘See what?’
And with a jerk she released herself from my weak arm.
‘Tell me what it is you want me to see.’
‘Your mother.’
‘My mother?’
‘Yes, she’s cheating on your father. She’s a hussy.’
‘Shut up.’
And she very nearly hit me for the insult.
‘Have a look for yourself and then decide, if you really think I’m lying. What are you afraid of?’
‘I’m not afraid.’
‘Let’s go then.’
‘All right, but if you are lying to me, I will never help you again.’
We went into the room and Carla almost fainted when she saw her mother making love to don Nicolás. She wanted to shout but a knot in her throat stopped any sound coming out.
Her eyes looked as though they were going to pop out of their sockets.
Her face changed colour.
We left without the lovers noticing us.
We headed for my bedroom. Or rather, I led her there, she was in shock.
She tried to clear her mind and digest what she had seen. It can’t be easy for any child to discover that their mother is not what they thought she was, what she appeared to be.
‘What should I do?’ she asked, finally.
I didn’t know what to say.
I wanted revenge on my aunt. It would have been easy for me to suggest that she phone her father and destroy my aunt’s marriage but I didn’t want Carla to suffer, I didn’t want to see her cry. Destroying my aunt’s marriage meant destroying Carla’s home and I didn’t want to do that.
‘Remember that I love you very much,’ I said, and without thinking, I kissed her on the lips.
It was something I had planned to do for so long without knowing how, although of course I had rehearsed it.
She took a step backwards.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Where did you learn to do that?’
‘Watching TV and practising with my pillow.’
This confession amused her.
And I, in my imaginary world, sensed that she had liked it, that she wanted it too.
My ideas ran away with me. Neither thoughts nor dreams have limits.
I thought she felt the same about me as well.
That she, too, had dreamt of that kiss.
We left the room and Pedro, her older brother, who was eleven, blocked our path; he had seen the kiss.
He