The She-Devil in the Mirror by Horacio Castellanos Moya Read Free Book Online Page B

not give me any cock-and-bull stories, to tell me the truth, the
whole truth, and nothing but the truth. He looked a little taken aback: he
thought Olga María had already told me everything. I said she hadn’t, I said she
was a very discreet woman, and she’d only told me that things hadn’t worked out
between them. Then Yuca asked me to wait a second, he had to go to the bathroom,
and off he dashed. What a mess this is, my dear. We’re at a standstill. That’s
what I hate about these narrow streets, the tiniest thing goes wrong and there’s
a major traffic jam. We could sit here now for fifteen minutes. That’s happened
to me before. It’s because right after the bridge the street gets even narrower,
sometimes the hearse can’t even get through. What a pain. But I was telling you
about Yuca—I do feel like it’s somehow wrong to talk about it: it’s so private.
Especially considering Yuca’s political position, my dear, it might be
embarrassing, even dangerous. But I think he’s doing better. He looks good now,
more relaxed, stable, self-assured, not like that afternoon I was with him in
his hideout. When he got back from the bathroom he was acting totally different:
like he was having tremors. Then I understood what was going on with him, and I
got scared, why not admit it. A man of his stature in a situation like that,
it’s enough to frighten anyone. So, again, I told him to relax, I suggested he
have a seat on the sofa next to me and tell me all about what had happened with
Olga María. First, he gave me a whole long song and dance: about how he’d always
loved her, how she was the best thing in his life, how he needed such a sweet
understanding woman by his side, how his relationship with Kati was dead. You
know: what men always say to women. I let him go on for a while, but when I
realized he was beating around the bush, I asked him point blank why Olga María
had entered that house so excited and left it so disappointed. Yuca was sitting
next to me on the sofa. He didn’t answer, he looked me right in the eyes and
began caressing my hair, with the saddest expression on his face. I felt sorry
for him, and he knew how to use that to his advantage, he knows I’ve always
liked him. He inched closer and closer, a little bit at a time, then he kissed
me. The weird part is that I didn’t do anything to stop him. On the contrary. It
was as if I had the feeling that this was the only way I was going to get this
man to settle down, the only way I was going to find out what had really
happened between him and Olga María. Anyway, that’s the only way I can explain
it, and to tell you the truth, once we started, it didn’t seem like we were
going to stop. Yuca is so good-looking, so tender; he knows how to say such
lovely things. And his body, my dear, if you ordered one custom made, it
wouldn’t turn out better than his. But the more we kissed and touched each other
on the sofa, the more frantic he got. He told me he loved my legs, he wanted to
lick me all over. He almost tore my clothes off. I came there totally
defenseless: I was wearing a gray plaid miniskirt and a white blouse. I had no
idea that man was going to throw himself on me like that; if I’d known, I’d have
worn pants. I managed to tell him to be careful or he’d tear my stockings, but
he was totally beside himself; all he wanted to do was bury his head between my
legs, like a dog. I managed to grab him by the hair and shout at him to calm
down, I didn’t like it like that—now I understood why Olga María had been so
disappointed in him; I asked him what it would take for him to go about it a
little more gently. Poor Yuca. I still get an odd feeling when I remember the
look on his face. He was on his knees on the floor and I’d already stood up. He
rested his head on the sofa, and, right then and there, he simply fell apart. It
was