Free Kiss of the Spider Woman by Manuel Puig Page A

powerful movements, and so elegant, and soft, and masculine at the same time.
    —And what’s masculine in your terms?
    —It’s lots of things, but for me . . . well, the nicest thing about a man is just that, to be marvelous-looking, and strong, but without making any fuss about it, and also walking very tall. Walking absolutely straight, like my waiter, who’s not afraid to say anything. And it’s knowing what you want, where you’re going.
    —That’s pure fantasy, that type doesn’t exist.
    —Yes it does so exist, and it’s him.
    —Okay, so he gives you that impression, but inside, at least as far as this culture goes, without power behind you no one walks tall, not the way you say.
    —Don’t be so jealous, there’s just no talking to a guy about some other guy without getting into a fuss, you’re all like women that way.
    —Don’t be stupid.
    —See how you react, even insulting me. You men are just as competitive as women.
    —Please, let’s stick to a certain level, or let’s not talk at all.
    —What’s with this level bit . . .
    —With you there’s simply no talking, unless it’s when you’re spouting off about some film.
    —No talking to me? I’d like to know why.
    —Because you can’t carry on a discussion, there’s no line of thought to it, you come out with any nonsense at all.
    —That isn’t true, Valentin.
    —Whatever you say.
    —You’re so damn pedantic.
    —If you think so.
    —Show me. I’d like to see how I don’t come up to your level.
    —I didn’t say you don’t come up to my level; I just meant you don’t stick to the point when we carry on a discussion.
    —You’ll see, I do so.
    —Why go on talking, Molina?
    —Just go on talking, and I’ll show you.
    —What do we talk about?
    —Well . . . Why don’t you tell me what it means to you, being a man?
    —You got me, that time.
    —Let’s hear then . . . Give me your answer, what makes a man in your terms?
    —Mmm . . . his not taking any crap . . . from anyone, not even the powers that be . . . But no, it’s more than that. Not taking any crap is one thing, but not the most important. What really makes a man is a lot more, it has to do with not humiliating someone else with an order, or a tip. Even more, it’s . . . not letting the person next to you feel degraded, feel bad.
    —That sounds like a saint.
    —No, it’s not as impossible as you think.
    —I still don’t get you . . . explain a little more.
    —I don’t know, I don’t quite know myself, right this minute. You’ve caught me off guard. I can’t seem to find the right words. Some other time, when my ideas are a little clearer on the subject, we can go back to it. Tell me more about your waiter at that restaurant.
    —Where were we?
    —The business of the salad.
    —Who knows what he’s doing now . . . Makes me sad. Poor baby, there in that place . . .
    —This place is a lot worse, Molina.
    —But we won’t be in here forever, right? But him, that’s it, he doesn’t have any other future. He’s condemned. And I told you already what a strong character he’s got, he isn’t afraid of anything; but you can’t imagine, sometimes, the sadness you see in him.
    —How can you tell?
    —It’s in his eyes. Because he’s got those fair eyes, greenish, somewhere between brown and green, incredibly big, swallowing up his face it seems like, and it’s that look in his eyes that gives him away. That look that makes you see sometimes how bad he feels, how sad. And it’s what attracted me, and made me feel more and more like talking to him. Especially when things in the restaurant got a little slow and I’d notice that melancholy look on him, he’d go to the back of the dining room, where they kept a table so the waiters could sit sometimes, and he’d stay quiet there, lighting up a cigarette, and his eyes would slowly get strange, sort of misty. I started going there more and more often, but in the beginning