Free A Distant Father by Antonio Skármeta Page A

space.
    According to the miller, we’re heroes, he and I. The simple fact that we haven’t left the village is epic.
    “I give the children bread, you give them education,” he tells me, spitting a few tobacco grains onto hisapron. “The world’s not made for small villages. But our presence makes them big. One of these days, some high government official will give us a decoration. There’ll be a pavilion in the square with your name on it. Your father was a cosmopolitan man, a Parisian—he must have really loved you if he was willing to bury himself in this place for five years. We spent many hours playing cards together.”
    “Have you ever been to the whorehouse in Angol, Cristián?” I fire the question at him impetuously, drunkenly, stupidly.
    He fills his glass with wine. I cover mine like a coffin so he won’t pour me any more.
    With a gesture that’s supposed to be majestic, I get to my feet and look up at the starry sky. My mind’s spinning faster and higher than the cosmos.
    “Tomorrow’s Saturday, Jacques. You’re not teaching any classes, I’m not baking any bread. The train to Angol leaves at noon. But the action doesn’t start until after dark.”
    “Doesn’t matter,” I say from under a hail of meteorites. “If we go during the day, I’ll have time to buy a birthday present for Gutiérrez.”
    “The sisters’ little brother?”
    “He’s having a birthday party next Friday. His sisters look at me and laugh when we’re in the square.”
    “The younger one has the hots for you.”
    “For me? How can that be, Cristián?”
    “They both have a thing for Frenchmen.”
    “But I’m a Chilean, and a poor one at that.”
    “But you’re young. You have a profession, you haven’t settled for milking cows. Someday the education ministry will send you to Angol. Or even to Santiago.”
    “It worries me to hear you say that.”
    “Why?”
    “If we go with whores today and then I get a teaching position in some other school and someone declares he’s seen me in the whorehouse, what happens to my academic career?”
    “The principal of the high school visits the girls, too.”
    “Don’t give me that!”
    “Whatever you do, there’ll always be someone trying to impose limits on you. Don’t go looking for them on your own. What are you going to give Gutiérrez?”
    “A pair of boxing gloves. I saw him shadow-boxing on the basketball court.”
    “He’s fifteen years old and he’s already getting a mustache.”
    “He takes after his father. Have you heard anything from my dad?”
    “Not a thing, kid.”
    “You said that funny. Is he dead?”
    “He’s not dead.”
    “Well, you say you haven’t heard from him, so how do you know he’s not dead?”
    Cristián pours himself another glass of wine, emptying the bottle.
    I lie down on the floor.
    “What’s wrong with you, buddy?”
    “I’m drunk.”
    “That’s all right. But there’s no need to get all dramatic. What’s bothering you?”
    “Gutiérrez’s sister.”
    “The younger one or the older one?”
    “The younger one, Cristián. Those tits she’s got, they make me want to squeeze them until they pop like grapes. Her teeth gleam in the night. I imagine myself biting her lips, and then she touches me …”
    “How?”
    I don’t want to answer. I’m standing in the universe, vertical and alone. I’m a dog beaten by moonlight. Why did my father leave us?
    “The younger Gutiérrez girl’s a good choice. The older one …”
    “What about her, Cristián? What about the older one?”
    “She’s very mature. She could cause you problems.”
    “What sort of problems?”
    “I’m gonna get another bottle.”
    “Answer my question first.”
    “Strange things go on in that girl’s life. Do you remember when she went away on vacation in January and didn’t come back until August?”
    “What are you saying?”
    “Nothing. I just find it strange, that’s all.”
    “I left the village, too. I went to college in