Free The Truce by Mario Benedetti Page A

is never at home, talks to me as if it were an obligation, and makes all of us feel like ‘strangers’ in ‘his family’, which consists of him and only him. Jaime also doesn’t feel very inclined to talk to me, but in his case I don’t notice that kind of irrepressible rejection. Jaime is, by nature, a hopeless loner, and everyone else eventually pays the price.
    Getting back to Diego: it pleases me that the young man has character; it will be good for Blanca. He’s a year younger than she is, but he looks four or five years older. The main thing is that she feels protected; as far as Blanca is concerned, she’s faithful and won’t disappoint him. I like the fact they go out alone together, without a cousin or little sister tagging along as chaperone. Camaraderie is a beautiful stage; irreplaceable and irretrievable. I’ll never forgive Isabel’s mother for her behaviour during our courtship; she would always stick to us like glue and would watch us so closely and zealously that even if one was the epitome of purity, one would still feel forced to summon all of one’s available sinful thoughts. Even on those truly rare
occasions when she wasn’t present, we didn’t feel we were alone; we were sure that some kind of ghost with a shawl on its head was watching every move we made. If on some occasion we kissed, we were so nervous and so concerned that she’d appear at any of the cardinal points of the living room that the kiss always ended up being merely instantaneous contact, with little sexuality and even less tenderness, but with a good deal of fear, short circuitry and damaged nerves. She’s still alive; I saw her near Sarandí the other afternoon, tall, determined, ageless, accompanying the youngest of her six daughters and a pitiful man who looked like a suitor who was in custody. The young girl and the suitor weren’t walking arm-in-arm: there was at least eight inches of light between them. You could see the old woman still hadn’t budged from her famous motto: ‘The arm, when you get married.’
    But again, I stray from the Diego topic. He says he works in an office, but that it’s only temporary. ‘I can’t be satisfied with the prospect of seeing myself always there, locked in, breathing in the smell of old books. I’m sure that I’m going to be and do something else. I don’t know if it will be better or worse than what I’m doing now, but it will be something else.’ There was a time when I also thought like that. Nevertheless, nevertheless … This fellow looks more determined than I did.
Saturday 11 May
    At some point I heard her say that at noon on Saturdays she meets a cousin at 18th and Paraguay. I have to talk to her. I waited at that corner for an hour, but she didn’t show up. I don’t want to make a date with her; it has to be a chance encounter.
Sunday 12 May
    I also heard her say she goes to the street fair on Sundays. I have to talk to her, so I went to the fair. I thought I saw her two or three times, suddenly spotting part of a neck, hairdo or shoulder that looked like hers among the many heads in the crowd. But then, the figure came into full view, and even those familiar body parts would blend with the whole and the similarity would be lost. Every now and then a woman I saw from behind had the same walk, hips and nape. But then she’d suddenly turn around, and the resemblance would become absurd. The only thing that doesn’t deceive (as a single trait) is the gaze. I didn’t find her eyes anywhere. However (I’ve only just thought about this), I don’t know what they look like, what colour they are. I returned home tired, confused, annoyed and bored. Although, there is a more accurate word to describe it: I returned home alone.
Monday 13 May
    They’re green. Sometimes grey. I was looking at her, perhaps for too long, when she asked me: ‘What is it,