Free The Scroll of Seduction by Gioconda Belli

and studied with neighbors. Marina was obsessed with a boy who lived in the apartment above her and who every afternoon, when he figured she was sitting by her window doing her homework, lowered a can tied to a string with messages to her. “He sends me stupid poems, they’re ridiculous!” She’d laugh, blushing. “Or he copies passages from the ‘Song of Songs,’ the fool.” She said she couldn’t stand him, but it was obvious that they had developed a sort of curious intimacy–his bedroom being directly on top of hers–if only by knowing they were in such close proximity. She listened to his music. She knew when he got into bed, when he turned out the light. He’d even say good night to her by tapping gently on the floor. Piluca, on the other hand, lived in the shadow of her older sister, who was a singer and was starting to become known. Boys were constantly calling her house, and Piluca spent every second of her free time spying on her sister. I joined their talk, telling them about the games I used to play with my cousins, while I couldn’t help picturing the expressions they would have on their faces were they to know that just the week before I had taken my clothes off in front of a man. It wouldn’t be very long before I returned to Manuel’s apartment. It wouldn’t be very longbefore those conversations would ring even more naive and innocent to me. I already felt as if I had crossed the threshhold that took me past adolescence.
    Lucía: you were given a most appropiate name, the Latin for light. Do you shine in the darkness, or is it that your memory shines within me during the day, when I close my eyes?
    So long, Manuel.
    It was Friday, and those were the words of his newly arrived letter. I went from anguish to a sort of sweet confusion. No one had ever addressed anything so poetic to me before. I slipped the letter into my skirt pocket and looked for excuses to be alone so I could keep rereading it. I spent all day in a near-beatific state of euphoria. I went to chapel in the afternoon. Kneeling in the dark, amid candles and the smell of incense, I saw Manuel’s eyes burning in the flames of all the votives lined up before the altar.

CHAPTER 5
    B efore I left on Sunday, I dedicated some time to quiet Mother Luisa Magdalena’s worries about me. In a motherly way she tended to be quite vigilant and aware of my moods. If she saw that I was pensive and silent, her instinct went on guard, and Christ’s Amazon that she was, she set off against my melancholy, suggesting this or that distraction. I was surprised to see that rather than accept my customary visit to the Prado, she kept insisting I go with Margarita and a few other girls to the Puerta del Sol shopping district. I assured her that I wasn’t sad or depressed, I just didn’t feel like shopping. For the first time, I regretted having made her my confidante and protector, and letting her have an influence over me. Never before had she taken any part in deciding what I would or wouldn’t do on Sundays.
    I left the school with Margarita and the others, but said good-bye to them when we were out on the street. Intrigued, Margarita asked me if I was going to see my boyfriend. I denied it emphatically. That wasn’t it, I said. I simply didn’t feel like going shopping.
    When I got to the Prado, I still hadn’t shaken off the uneasiness I felt at being the center of attention just when I wanted to avoid questions and prying.
    It had only been a year since I had been allowed to roam around the city by myself on weekends. Most of the time I would walk to the Prado, browse around department stores like Corte Inglés or Galerías Preciados, wander up and down the Gran Vía, or else go to the movies with Margarita. My routine had changed ever since Manuel appeared in my life. I had met with him every Sunday since the start of the school year in September. If I needed