Free The Wind From the East by Almudena Grandes Page B

called her expertise into question. “I’m sorry. I’d forgotten about the child. She must be about ten, is that right? I fully understand your decision. Now, tell me more about Alfonso. He must have been very upset over his brother’s death as well.”
     
    “Yes, but he was much more affected by my sister-in-law’s death. I’m just telling you because he still talks to her a lot, as if she were some kind of invisible friend. He tells her what’s going on, talks to her at the table and asks her if she likes the food, asks us to tell her to come upstairs and give him a kiss at bedtime, that kind of thing. He was extremely fond of her because she was like a second mother to him. He had a different relationship with Damián. Damián had a very forceful personality, and well . . . he could be a little abrupt and impatient. It’s not that he didn’t love Alfonso, it was just that he insisted on treating him like a normal person. He expected him to do things he couldn’t possibly do, and imposed rules he couldn’t follow. He insisted on trying to get him to eat properly, stand up straight, keep his shirt tucked into his trousers. He was furious if Alfonso spilt soup down his chin.”
     
    Juan stopped and, looking up, saw that the doctor was now staring at him. He’d known that the question would come up and he’d decided to be open for Alfonso’s sake, not minimizing the ugly facts for which he somehow felt responsible, and without exaggerating them so as to comfort himself for obscure reasons that this woman would never know.
     
    “I would rather not ask you this, but I hope you agree that I really don’t have a choice. Did your brother hit Alfonso?”
     
    “Yes.” Juan met her gaze. “I’m very ashamed to admit it, but he did. Never when I was there, of course, or his wife—she’d always stop him—but . . . It was never systematic violence, it didn’t happen every day, or even every week, it was just sudden bursts of anger. Sometimes, Damián simply felt he couldn’t take it any more, and he hit Alfonso. He didn’t actually beat him, he’d just strike him once or twice until he’d calmed down. But he frequently threatened to hit him and when Alfonso did something wrong, Damián would ask him ‘Do you want me to get cross?’ He acted as if there wasn’t a problem, but a couple of times I managed to get him to talk about it, and I even suggested that we put Alfonso in a residential home, but he’d never agree to it. He wanted to have his brother living at home, but he also wanted him to be different, so they were at an impasse. Damián was a complex character. I don’t think he could stand being the second child, he would have given anything to be me as I was the eldest. He had an obsession with being the head of the family, the patriarch, maybe because he started earning a lot of money when he was very young—he was the typical, successful young businessman. He liked to take care of my parents, buy them expensive, showy presents, give my sisters money at Christmas, and he always had to be the one who gave the most expensive toys to all the kids on their birthdays. Anyway, he wanted to be a father figure to all of us and he wasn’t used to people not doing as he said. Poor Alfonso wouldn’t, and this was the result.”
     
    “Alfonso was scared of him,” concluded the doctor.
     
    “Terrified. He couldn’t stand being alone with him. It was all right if there were other people around, but when they were on their own, Alfonso would suddenly start crying, or wet his pants, which only made things worse.”
     
    “I see,” she said simply, before scribbling a long paragraph on one of the forms from her folder. “This kind of thing can have serious consequences, but you mustn’t blame yourself. It’s very common, unfortunately, even among educated people, who you would expect to know better. Let’s talk some more about Alfonso.You’ve signed him up for the bus service, so I take it that