Free Happy Families by Carlos Fuentes Page B

phrase “I thought I was doing the lady a favor,” though the craftiness of his sly Mexico City glance said to Jesús Aníbal, “If you want her, keep her, after all, you’re the boss.”
    Jesús Aníbal was really curious about participating in the play of glances—or the lack of them—among the waiter, Valentina, and himself, and he was satisfied, rejecting all temptation to flush with confused embarrassment.
    During the dinner, the waiter, when passing the platter of turkey and dressing, could not help directing a glance at Ana Fernanda’s décolletage but, without too much effort, avoided looking at the hidden breasts of Valentina, who, to forestall the servant’s eyes, directed hers at Jesús Aníbal with a clear intention to express thanks for the protection offered that afternoon.
    Everyone was chatting amiably, animated by Ana Fernanda’s social gaiety, when one of the inevitable blackouts in the southern part of the city provoked an equally inevitable “Aaaah!” from the diners and Jesús Aníbal, moved by a force that not even he desired or understood, extended his leg under the table until his foot touched the tip of Valentina’s.
    His cousin withdrew her foot for a second but immediately, as if she feared the return of the light, resumed contact with Jesús Aníbal. They amused themselves in this way until the power returned.
    They were all talking about their next vacations, about places they had visited or were going to visit. Only Valentina remained silent, as if she weren’t going anywhere.
    When everyone drank cognac, she chose a digestive tequila.
    As they sat and talked after dinner, the host tried to avoid his cousin’s eyes, though it was difficult for him, and he told himself that these things didn’t happen by accident, there must be a deeper reason for two distant beings to become close so quickly, especially if they were not—and manifestly they were not—frivolous people, because Jesús Aníbal decided that walking barefoot or going into the kitchen for an early bite were delicious acts—did she think that? he thought—and in their own way, seriously free.
    He prayed intensely for the darkness to return and the flirtation to resume. That did not happen. When he said good night, Jesús Aníbal’s kiss on his cousin’s cheek was fleeting, but what was prolonged was the union of nose against nose and the sensation that joined respirations produced in both of them.
    “Good night.”
    “Until tomorrow.”
    And in a very low voice, Jesús Aníbal said, “Fate is on our side.”
    The host knew very well which bedroom had been assigned to Cousin Valentina. Jesús Aníbal waited for the hour of the wolf to leave his room and find Valentina’s door. Would it be locked? No. He pushed it and entered a space lit by a candle beside the bed, more undulating than chaste.
    Valentina stood waiting for him, barefoot, in a long nightdress with an embroidered bodice.

    2. No, it wasn’t because she had been invited for only three nights, and whatever happened now would dissipate very quickly, divided between distance and forgetting. For once, Valentina Sorolla would surrender to forbidden pleasure, certain there would be no consequences. And it wasn’t because she was hungry for love and, in the arms of her cousin, discovered it not for the first but certainly for the principal time, and therefore it was worth it, with no further consideration. No, it wasn’t because, by allowing herself to be loved passionately by Jesús Aníbal, she would free herself from a feeling of revenge for the frustrations of an entire life, damaged as much by her physical appearance as by the withdrawn behavior determined by that fact.
    No, it was nothing that came out of her and her life. This was what baffled her, subjected her, frightened her. She was barely a rivulet flooded by the great passionate torrent of the man. It was he, Jesús Aníbal, the cousin she had not known about until now, who was the origin, on