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

in this world.
    —And you think you’re going to change the world?
    —Yes, and I don’t care if you laugh . . . It makes people laugh to say it, but what’s got to be done more than anything . . . is change the world.
    —But you can’t change it just like that, and you can’t do it all alone.
    —But that’s just it, I’m not alone! . . . you get me? . . . There’s the truth, that’s what’s important! . . . That’s just it, right at this minute I’m not alone! I’m with her and with everybody who thinks like her and me . . . and I can’t let myself forget it. That’s the piece of thread that sometimes slips out of my fingers. But luckily I’ve got a good grip on it now. And I’m not about to let go . . . I’m not far from any of my comrades, I’m with them! Now, at this very moment! . . . It doesn’t matter if I can’t see them.
    —If you can swallow something like that, great.
    —What an idiot you are!
    —Such names . . .
    —Don’t be so annoying then . . . Don’t say things like that, as if I were some dreamer who kids himself about everything, because that’s not how it is! I’m not some loudmouth playing at cafe politics, understand? The proof’s that I’m here in this place, not in a cafe!
    —Sorry.
    —It’s all right.
    —You started to tell me something about your girl and you never told me anything.
    —No, better we forget the whole thing.
    —Whatever you want.
    —Even though there’s no reason not to talk. It shouldn’t upset me to talk about her.
    —If it upsets you, don’t . . .
    —It doesn’t upset me . . . Only it’s better for me not to tell you her name.
    —I just remembered the name of the actress who played the assistant.
    —What is it?
    —Jane Randolph.
    —Never heard of her.
    —She goes back a ways, to the forties, around then. For your girl’s name we can simply say Jane Randolph.
    —Jane Randolph.
    —Jane Randolph in . . . The Mystery of Cellblock Seven .
    —One of the initials actually fits . . .
    —Which?
    —What do you want me to tell you about her?
    —Whatever you want to say, what kind of girl she is.
    —She’s twenty-four, Molina. Two years younger than me.
    —Thirteen less than me.
    —She always was a revolutionary. At first in terms of . . . well, I won’t hesitate with you . . . in terms of the sexual revolution.
    —Please, tell me about it.
    —She comes from a bourgeois family, people who aren’t very rich, but, you know, comfortable enough, two-story house in Caballito. But she spent her whole childhood and adolescence tormented by watching her parents destroying one another. With a father who deceived the mother, but you know what I mean . . .
    —No, what?
    —Deceived her by not telling her how he needed outside relationships. And the mother devoted herself to criticizing him in front of the daughter, devoted herself to being the martyr. I don’t believe in marriage—or in monogamy, to be more precise.
    —But how marvelous when a couple loves each other for a lifetime.
    —You’d really go for that?
    —It’s my dream.
    —So why do you like men then?
    —What’s that got to do with it? . . . I’d like to marry a man for the rest of my life.
    —So you’re a regular bourgeois gentleman at heart, eh, Molina?
    —Bourgeois lady, thank you.
    —But don’t you see how all that’s nothing but a deception? If you were a woman, you wouldn’t want that.
    —I’m in love with a wonderful guy and all I ask is to live by his side for the rest of my life.
    —And since that’s impossible, because if he’s a guy he wants a woman, well, you’re never going to undeceive yourself.
    —Go on about your girl, I don’t feel like talking about me.
    —Well okay, as I was telling you, they . . . what’s the name?
    —Jane. Jane Randolph.
    —They raised Jane Randolph to be a proper lady. Piano lessons, French, and painting, and after the lycée the Catholic