Читать книгу The Foreign Girls - Sergio Olguin - Страница 14

That evening she received an unexpected call. Apart from her sisters, nobody had been in touch with Verónica since she arrived in Tucumán. So the sound of her phone ringing took her by surprise. She didn’t even remember where she had left it. When she found it, she saw Federico’s name on the screen.

And at that moment, it stopped ringing. It was strange for Federico to call her. He knew that she was on vacation – she had told him by email a few weeks before setting off. They didn’t often write to each other anyway. Although they had spent last New Year’s Eve together, with members of her family, Verónica had gone to spend the night at her father’s house. Her sisters were also going, with their husbands and children, along with some of her father’s friends. And of course they had invited Federico, the most promising lawyer at the Rosenthal law firm, a junior partner, the son that Aarón Rosenthal had never had and the man everyone, including her father, sisters and even nieces and nephews (who, egged on by their mothers, called him “uncle”) wanted to see her marry. Her sisters knew that there had once been something between them and that it hadn’t come to anything, a detail that seemed not to strike them as important. Her father must have made Federico a partner on professional merit; even so, Verónica suspected that her father’s gesture was something like an advance on the dowry he would hand to Federico if he ever managed to trap her and whisk her off into a mixed marriage. Because, as long as they could see her married, it didn’t matter too much to her father and sisters that Federico was a goy. Her father hadn’t given up hope that his star lawyer might have Jewish ancestry. He had said as much to Verónica at one of their lunches at Hermann (“Córdova is a Jewish 43converso surname”) and added, with that smile so typical of the Rosenthals when they knew themselves to be in the right, “I’ve done my homework.”

In truth, Federico Córdova’s parents were from Argentina and his grandparents – from Seville and Galicia – were as Catholic as the Macarena and the Virgen del Monte. Both sets of grandparents had made the same immigrant journey. They had arrived in Argentina with nothing and built a life for themselves and their children. One of Federico’s uncles had risen to the rank of judge in La Plata. He was the one who had offered to organize an internship for Federico at one of the capital’s courts or at the law firm that belonged to his friend: Doctor Aarón Rosenthal, an eminence in the legal world. Federico had opted for Rosenthal and Associates.

It was the best decision of his life because it meant he’d met her, Federico told Verónica after the first time they’d fucked – right afterwards, in fact, because, in contrast to what many people say about men, Federico loved post-coital chat. And while Federico told her his story, and that of his parents, uncles and aunts and of his immigrant grandparents, Verónica was thinking that this had been a mistake, that sleeping with Federico was practically incest. Because ever since they had first met at her father’s firm, they had enjoyed a friendly camaraderie; they were more like siblings than friends. And if she had led him on … well, it wouldn’t be wrong for her to do that. At the end of the day he wasn’t actually her brother.

Such were the contradictions that plagued her for months before she finally decided to fuck him. And while he was still talking, she was thinking that she needed a whisky and a spaceship to beam her out of the motel and back to her parents’ house (she was still living at home).44

It was a long time before they had fucked again. That next time hadn’t seemed so incestuous to her but, noticing how in love he was, she felt obliged to say what she believed everyone should say when they know they won’t be faithful to someone who loves them: that there were, and would continue to be, other men in her life. Federico thanked her for her honesty, and they didn’t go out together again. He had remained very present in her life, though.

Federico never asked her for anything, never showed her any weakness. And that annoyed Verónica. It seemed that the only time he was prepared to reveal himself emotionally was in bed. And given that he never asked her for anything, why had he called her?

The phone rang again. Federico’s name reappeared on the screen. She answered straightaway.

“Federico Córdova?”

“Dr Córdova to you.”

“Like that, is it?”

“Or Lil Daddy, if you like.”

“I’ve only got one Daddy and he’s sitting ten feet away from you.”

“More like twenty, to be precise.”

“Has something happened?”

“No, nothing. I just wanted to know how the vacation’s going.”

“Well. I’m at Severo’s house.”

“Are you going to stay there much longer?”

“I don’t know, a couple of days. Why?”

“Just curious.”

“Come on, Fede. Why do you want to know?”

“Don’t panic – I’m not thinking of joining you. My mother doesn’t let me out of Buenos Aires on my own. Are you going to Salta afterwards?”45

“No. I’m heading to Yacanto del Valle. From there I think I’ll go to Cafayate.”

“And are you on your own?”

“Fede, if I didn’t know you, I’d think that you were monitoring me or that my dad’s asked you to make sure I’m eating properly.”

“And are you?”

“Is there anything else, sweetheart? Make it quick, because I’ve got a couple of friends waiting for me.”

“Ah, that’s great you’ve got company. It’s boring travelling alone. I’m sending you a kiss.”

Verónica hung up feeling that Federico wanted to talk to her about something but had decided not to for some reason. Could something have happened to her father? No, it wouldn’t be that: her sisters would have told her. Might Federico and old Rosenthal have fallen out? Impossible. Some other woman was messing him around and making him sad? Who knew…? It couldn’t be anything too serious. She might as well return to the pool.