Free The Girl in the Photograph by Lygia Fagundes Telles Page B

other.
    “Let’s have this baby, Bunny. Let’s let him be born, let’s be very happy and he’ll
     be born happy …”
    ‘Maybe it’s twins.”
    “Fabulous, twins! we’ll put them in one of those little double strollers, hanh? The
     two of them strolling along, we’ll call the Mademoiselle and she’ll come running,
     tick, tock, tick tock, ‘ et alors, mon petit choux? ’ If it’s a girl we’ll call it Celestial Mechanics, isn’t that a beautiful name? My
     professor of Celestial Mechanics was—Where did I learn that? I learned a whole hell
     of a lot of things but now I forget, tick tock, tick, tock, et alors? ”
    Ana Clara sat up on the bed, encircled her legs and rested her chin on her knees.
     Her green eyes squinted from the middle of the black circles. She turned sharply to
     Max who was trying to light a cigarette and shook him. The matches from the box spilled
     over him.
    “Why did you have to go broke, why? Now I have to marry somebody else, you dummy.
     I want yenom, you know what yenom is? Lorena says that if you say things backwards
     it brings you luck. Now I have to. And still sober. I’m sober as adog. I think you gave me aspirin. Why don’t you give me that little medallion you
     have around your neck? Our kid will want that medallion, will you give it to him?”
    “Mama wouldn’t let me take it off, only when I want to sleep, there was a story about
     a baby that died because it was strangled by its little chain…. Ducha had one just
     like it.”
    “Your sister? The one who went crazy?”
    “Don’t talk like that about my little sister, don’t …”
    “But shit, isn’t she in the nuthouse? So. You told me yourself.”
    “My Ducha, my little Duchinha. So sweet, like a little flower.”
    “But didn’t she lose her memory, Max? You said so, Max. You told me. Am I saying anything
     bad? Lorena’s father lost his memory too, he died in the sanatorium without remembering
     anything, the last time Lorena went to visit him he asked, ‘Who’s that girl?’ Am I
     saying anything bad?”
    He shook his head and turned over onto his belly, his face buried in the pillow, his
     shoulders shaken by a dry sob. He covered his ears.
    “I don’t want to hear about it, I don’t want to!” he cried and laughed at the same
     time. Turning to look at the ceiling he chuckled between the tears that started to
     run down his face.
    “One day we went to the zoo, oh! that animal, that animal that has a horn here, hanh?”
    “Is she blond like you? Is she? Answer me, Max, I want to know what she’s like. Your
     little sister.”
    Slowly he extended his arm in the direction of the record player. His hand opened
     in slow motion, one finger extended to touch something but without conviction, waiting
     for the something to come toward it.
    “The rug.”
    “What rug? I’m talking about your sister, your sister! So? Is she blond like you?”
    “She would only sleep with the light on, she was afraid of having bad dreams. Say
     your prayers, Duchinha, say your prayers and tonight you’ll have good dreams, don’t
     you want to have good dreams? Say your prayers with me, come on, me voici, Seigneur, tout couvert de confusion et pénétré de doleur … douleur … ah
     … ah … ah … ah … d’avoir offensé un Dieu si bon, si aimable et si digne d’être aimé …”
    “Was it the Mademoiselle who taught you that prayer? Answer me! Answer or I’ll throw
     this water on your head,” she threatened grabbing the ice bucket. “Come on, wake up!
     Answer me!”
    He tried to protect himself with his hands, blowing through the water that flooded
     his face. Laughing, he struggled as two ice cubes slid down from the bucket onto his
     chest.
    “The champion, look, the champion!” he yelled making swimming motions with his arms.
     “Time me, Shimoto! You damn Japanese, time me right! You’re cheating on the time,
     I can’t go any faster, watch him, Mama! I’m almost fainting, I’m dead