Kiss of the Spider Woman by Manuel Puig Read Free Book Online Page A

something!
    —What?
    —That afternoon Irena went to the zoo the same as every afternoon to see the panther that had her hypnotized. And she was right there when the keeper came along with his keys to give the meat to the beasts. The keeper’s that absent-minded old guy I told you about. Irena kept at a distance but watched everything. The keeper came up with the keys, opened the lock on the cage, slid back the bolt, opened the door and tossed in a couple of gigantic chunks of meat, and afterwards shot the bolt back through the latch on the door again, but forgot the key in the lock. When he wasn’t looking, Irena approached the cage and took the key. Anyway, all that was in the afternoon but now it’s night already and the psychiatrist’s dead already, when the husband with the other one and the police rush toward the zoo, just a few blocks away. But Irena’s just getting there, at the very cage the panther’s in. Walking like a sleepwalker. Holding the keys in her hand. The panther’s asleep, but Irena’s odor wakes him up. Irena looks at him through the bars. Slowly she goes up to the door, puts the key in the lock, opens it. Meantime, the others are arriving; you hear police cars approaching with sirens going to clear a way through the traffic, even though at that hour the place is almost deserted. Irena slides back the bolt and opens the door, setting the panther free. Irena’s almost transported into another world; her expression’s strange, tragic and yet excited sort of, her eyes misty. The panther escapes from the cage in a single leap; for a split second he looks suspended in midair, with nothing in front of him but Irena. Only the force of his leap and Irena’s knocked down. Cars are pulling up. The panther runs through the park and across the road, just as a police car races by at full speed. The car hits him. They get out and find the dead panther. The architect goes toward the cages and finds Irena stretched out on the cobblestone, right where they met for the first time. Irena’s face is disfigured from the swipe of the claw. She’s dead. The young assistant comes over to where he’s standing and they walk off together arm in arm, trying to forget the terrible spectacle they’ve just seen, and, The End.
    — . . .
    —Did you like it?
    —Yes . . .
    —A lot or a little?
    —I’m sorry it’s over.
    —We had a good time, didn’t we?
    —Yeah, for sure.
    —I’m glad.
    —I must be crazy.
    —What’s wrong with you?
    —I’m sorry it’s over.
    —So what, I’ll tell you another one.
    —No, it’s not that. You’re going to laugh at what I’m going to tell you.
    —Let’s have it.
    —I’m sorry because I’ve become attached to the characters. And now it’s all over, and it’s just like they died.
    —So, Valentin, you too have a little bit of a heart.
    —It has to come out some place . . . weakness, I mean.
    —It’s not weakness, listen.
    —Funny how you can’t get along without becoming attached to something . . . It’s . . . as if the mind had to secrete affection without stopping . . .
    —You think so?
    — . . . same way your stomach secretes juices for digestion.
    —You really think so?
    —Sure, like a leaky faucet. And those drops continue dripping on anything, they can’t be turned off.
    —Why?
    —Who knows . . . because they’re spilling over the top of their container.
    —And you don’t want to think about your girl.
    —But it’s like I can’t avoid it . . . because I get attached to anything that reminds me of her.
    —Tell me a little what she’s like.
    —I’d give . . . absolutely anything to be able to hold her, even for just a second.
    —That day’ll come.
    —Sometimes I think it’s never going to come.
    —But you’re not a lifer.
    —Something could happen to her.
    —Write her, tell her not to take any chances, that you need her.
    —Never. If you’re going to think like that, you’ll never change anything