Chapter 12 Chapter Ten-1

It wasn't very easy for Camargue to get rid of the woman.When he lay down again on the monk's single bed in the Avenue of the Resurrection, he thought that Reina's betrayal and ingratitude had been settled forever.However, he still couldn't relax.How could she conceive of abandoning a man like him?How dare this stinky shit give him these unfortunate lessons?He got up, went to wash his hands, checked the head of the penis again to see if there were any marks, and looked out the window from time to time. Sometimes Camargue could no longer bear the tension of the day, and he would go to bed, close his eyes, and trust that fatigue would overwhelm him.Feelings of anxiety are always very strong.He turned back and forth in front of the Bushnell binoculars, resisting the temptation to take a look; but, at last, he relented: what was happening in the opposite window was a stronger magnet than what had nothing to do with him.Isn't what happened there the same as himself?It is his construction career, his determination, and his destiny.

The faint morning light blurs the shape of everything; the telescope is not easy to adjust clearly.From what could be discerned, the woman was still asleep, in a posture of tormented spine: the neck was tilted to one side, almost touching the shoulders; Somebody took it away.The sheets around the crotch were stained with blood.Possibly an abscess on the side of Mormir's groin had burst.Mormeer had long argued: "I didn't break her anything. I didn't hit her. Dr. Camargue, I only did what you asked me to do." Camargue, you are sure: no trace of you was left in that flat.

Like the last night you secretly filmed, this time you poured the leftover juice into the kitchen sink and rinsed it under the tap water for a long time; you put the empty paper cans in garbage bags and then threw them on the street up. Clean the blood, nothing can be done.Let that woman think what she likes.And you don't care about Momir wiping himself with a bath towel.Who can identify this name is Vidol.Witkevich's homeless man, the Polish citizen who will be boarding a plane to Santiago de Chile in three hours, is the villain who once attacked the famous female reporter?The woman is unlikely to report it to the police.She couldn't even be sure someone had raped her.She saw no one.Perhaps she even felt guilty.

She had forgotten to lock the unit door with a chain; she had forgotten to have a locksmith install a security, as Skadi had suggested.She would go to the doctor: that was foreseen.If a blood test is done, it will be found that the ground has been infected.At that time, how would she open her mouth to tell her lover? What will the lover do?Had Camargue been in that lover's position, he would not have believed her story.Only a fool would take seriously a woman standing naked in front of an open window for all to see and swaying her ass provocatively!Is it possible to trust a woman like this?

Camargue put aside these calculations in his mind, because he had put himself beyond suspicion.He had seen Alio a few times before.A film by Batley, which seems to be titled "A Citizen Investigation That Surprises the Suspects," about a fascist policeman who kills his lover and confuses his colleagues with false clues: it's a masterpiece of a detective film, the way things go Appropriate and plausible, it makes one think that the victim himself is the only culprit. However, the protagonist in the film is Xi'an.maria.Played by Volontay, who lacks Camargue's savvy, commits the fatal mistake of hubris, probably because he represents an authoritarian regime and believes in its protective measures.

Instead, Camargue relied solely on its own strength. He disregarded all doubts and disregarded authority. The woman continued to breathe normally.The mouth opened wider than usual, perhaps because of the lack of fresh air in the room.From time to time she tried to change her position a little; this scene reassured Camargue a lot.He had forced her to drink a glass of water before he left, holding her head up to feed her, wearing latex gloves that he never took off; there was no sign of her having vomited.No doubt the phone must have rang several times throughout the morning, but she couldn't have been awake enough to hear it.Skadi would call her and criticize her for not attending editorial meetings; Enso, then.Maestro would call her and ask her to finish two stories: two new resignations that had rocked the fragile cabinet that morning.

These calls are useless, useless.Thinking she was offended by Skadi's accusations, they decided to travel to Rio early. Camargue thought that her mother would call her too; as soon as her mother found out that she was not there, she would leave her with a series of useless advice, so that she must listen to it again: go out and wear more clothes-the old man repeated, although it is Summer; don't go to bed too late; carry your bag on your chest, because you're walking alone in the street at night, baby, you see how unsafe Buenos Aires has become!Her lover also called because she was surprised that she didn't answer the e-mail.Camargue, you'll be on the phone too, and you long to hear her voice, even though you know she can't answer the phone: you want to hear her taped messages, her brief instructions.But what if the woman died?If she died, would all the calls be traced?

What surprised Camargue was that he could sit motionless in front of a telescope for hours without feeling the passage of time.Sometimes, his legs cramp and his fingers itch.He changed positions, but kept his eyes on the telescope; he insisted. He thought that if he neglected to monitor the woman for a moment, she would stop breathing. It had happened more than once to him that once he noticed someone, whether on the street or in the theatre, he felt that his existence depended on his gaze.If the mind wanders now and then, something tragic is bound to happen to that person: hit his head on a door frame; or bump and fall; or get run over by a car.

Now he could not take his attention away from the woman, not only because he wanted her to live--if not, his punishment would be of no avail; Degree: Between the two there is an umbilical cord, on which the whole of reality depends.If he stopped looking at her, not only would she be out of the program of things, but everything around her, possibly even himself, would be out of the program.Everything in life is lost because people are willing to lose them, or because things themselves are going to disappear, leaving people.Some people try to comfort us and teach us that loss is involuntary, but it is not.Camargue thought: We look for things that have left reality in reality, and we look for things that never existed.His eyes are worker bees, in order to continue to survive, they must continuously provide food to the queen bee in the hive.

Camargue didn't want anything else to interrupt his observations.All cell phones were switched off; he didn't switch them on until noon, when women's absences began to attract attention.Below, the streets were crowded with unpleasant crowds, almost all men, coming and going eagerly, belonging to no one place.Camargue felt that if any one of them disappeared into thin air, the lives of the others would not change at all.Everyone can disappear, and even so, reality remains intact; because the only two essential people at that time are him and the woman upstairs opposite, linked together by the magnetism of his gaze.

Fifteen pieces of information have been stored on the mobile phone of the contact newspaper.Camargue was convinced that all these messages were thoughts. Maestro calls for instructions on how to handle cabinet crisis.But when he gave Enso.When Maestro called, the somber tone on the phone reminded him that something worse was going on. thinking.Maestro asked him: "Why didn't you call back? We spent hours looking for you everywhere? Skadi had been to the house in Via San Isidro.The maid says you haven't been there for a whole week. " "I told you beforehand: there won't be a phone handy. Don't newspapers never make their own mistakes?" "Not the newspaper, Camargue, but your daughter." "Brenda calling you again?" "About two o'clock this morning. Anhela passed away around midnight. Brenda can't find you and doesn't know what to do.I got the impression that she was desperate.She asked me if it would be okay for her daughter to be buried this afternoon; but, I reminded her: you can't be there on time.They waited for you until tomorrow morning. Skadi has booked a plane ticket for you: leave this evening, arrive in Chicago at six o'clock.Camargue, I'm sorry.Everyone here is grieving. "The image of Anhela appeared in his mind like lightning. Was the last time I saw her eight months ago, or nine months ago? But there was no memory of the day of the meeting in his mind at all. He could recall The scene of walking the long aisle of Chicago O'Hare Airport that day, looking for the scene of Anhela's hospital ward. After a brief illusion of recovery, her daughter fell ill and was hospitalized again. However, the memory of the visit scene has disappeared. He even He could not even touch his hands, swollen with needles from saline injections; but, perhaps, he kissed his daughter's forehead. Is that all? It is easier to remember the image of Anhela in childhood; Camargue and His daughter sits at the piano with him; he pretends to play "For Alyssa," though he has no memory of how to play it at all, and merely lets his daughter push him aside so that she can correct the mistake: "No , Dad, that's not the case.look at my fingers!see that?Easiest thing in the world! "It's easier to die than to live, right? Anhela. It is safer not to be born than to live.There is always a memory in life, no matter how small and fleeting; this memory will always make you into someone else, something else.There is no way to get rid of memory as easily as one takes off one's clothes; therefore, Camargue, you never want to remember anything: in order not to let the memory change you, lest the memory prevent you from being you.Why do they insist on you seeing your daughter's dead body?Anhela had been bedridden for several months and must have been as thin as a handful of sticks. Deanna once said to you: "Daddy, she's only thirty-two kilograms: like a bird." That's what she looked like if you remembered her: pale and bloodless.This image will be firmly fixed in your mind, and other images will disappear. Every life leaves a kind of memory, only one; Camag would rather keep those memories already in his heart than add new ones, not to mention that new ones may be terrible. He said: "Did I tell you to buy me a plane ticket? Tell Skadi to refund the plane ticket immediately!" Enso.Maestro obeyed, saying, "Then you don't go." "No. I'll go later, when it's all over." "Is there something missing in your place?" "No shortage. I'd love to talk to Deanna, but I'm going to run into Brenda." "I'll fix this. I can tell Brenda that you're too nervous and the doctor won't let you travel. I can ask her to hand the phone over to Deanna and transfer the page to your cell phone.Agree? " "Okay. I don't know. I'm not in the mood to think about that right now." As long as the woman does not wake up, Camargue cannot leave there: this is his greatest tragedy now.There was whiskey and cheese and biscuits in the room; but he was neither thirsty nor hungry, all he wanted to do was stare into the glass and watch the woman breathe: up, down, up, down.Sometimes he noticed her nostrils flaring more, almost imperceptibly, probably from sighs.He tried to confirm this judgment, looking at the condition of the breasts, it should also rise and fall more; but while paying attention to one movement, he ignores other movements: these changes are too subtle, and it is difficult to distinguish them from a long distance.All this time, Camargue had been tempted to cross the street and sit by the woman's bed, in order to observe her changes intently, to give her water from time to time; but he dared not risk it. : Once she wakes up suddenly and sees him by her side, then everything will become clear.At the same time, he was also worried that someone would recognize him in the process of quickly moving from one room to another.If he had at least found out beforehand how long the effects of the phenobarbital would last, he would be much more at ease now.Wouldn't the dosage be too high?Perhaps the woman had slipped into a coma from which she would never wake up.Suddenly, he felt afraid.He is not a murderer.He didn't want her to suffer undue harm.Maybe he should find a pay phone and call an anonymous reporting number.But, in this case, the woman lying in the blood will become a big case for the police. After noon, Enso.Maestro called and told him that Deanna would be found in a few moments. The doctors advised her to be sedated; she is now asleep. "Camargue, I'm sorry, but I have to trouble you. Reina. Remis is not at work again." "She may be angry. Skadi's criticism made her unhappy. You know how to avoid women." "I don't want to get involved. But, what happened between you two? I didn't even think you were going to get married anytime soon." "You said you didn't want to get involved. That's all for the best." "Camargue, I'm your friend. Of all the friends you could have, I'm the most like me." "What do you mean by that?" "Meaning I'm faithful and say what comes to mind. You've gone too far with this girl. I know, she made a mistake. She had Fleet Airlines pay for her travel to Caracas. She's mortal too. She I wanted to get the information, but I succeeded. It was not sold to other newspapers. It was for our "Daily". We can't fire her for random things that happen every day.Would you like the Herald to poach her? She didn't have to knock on the door of the Herald, it would be opened for her. "Maestro, don't make any more trouble!Otherwise, I'll take your head off too!I am a man of principles.Haven't you understood what this means in the past?I have no tolerance for corruption.I can't stand lying and cheating. Tell me: where is that woman now?She thought the newspaper was her private property.She can do whatever she wants. She goes to Caracas, she goes to Rio, she calls Karachi, Mozambique, or whatever on the phone bill I paid for.Or even disappear if she wanted to.I'm already bored.Do not worry! No one at the Herald would hire her.I will personally ask about this matter. " After hanging up the phone, Camargue breathed a sigh of relief.He finds life straight and simple.He fixed his eyes on the woman's slender naked body, and the more he talked on the phone, the more reason he felt.If Maestro was told the whole story of this matter, he would certainly understand the meaning of these words.But he is also entangled in a web of appearances and chaos.Maestro was not an eyewitness to the beginning of this incident, for example, when he did not understand that the woman was a commoner, it was he, the Camargue, who slowly taught her a craft of bewilderment: The secrets of the title, how to find sources, how to choose words and sentences.Maestro, she doesn't know the difference between gossip and truth, she doesn't know which of two truths of similar content is better.As soon as Camargue opened his arms to her, she climbed up on him like ivy.She even imitated his way of speaking; she jotted down his repelled thoughts and half-spoken words in her notebook, in order to learn what kind of learning distinguished a gifted journalist from a bonanza.It pleased Camargue to have someone to listen to; he talked and talked, without thinking that the more he taught her, the less she needed him. He took her for a walk through the streets of the Steglitz district near Berlin, Franz.Kafka had a relationship with Dora before his death.Diamante spent the happiest months together. "I finished the work and I feel like it was a success." Camargue recited in German, repeating the opening lines of Kafka's short story written at 25-26 Heidestrasse, which read: "On a table by the stove, under a miraculously burning kerosene lamp. ’ Kafka thought that as soon as he arrived in Berlin—which happened in September 1923—he would be away from the “devil’s power,” but in reality the trip was in the opposite direction: the devils, or with him The term "enemy" has set up an encirclement of underground corridors for him; in Berlin, while the enemy is approaching him, he also draws a maze that imitates the maze of his life, just as he wrote in his penultimate novel "The Great Wall of China". As mentioned in "The Construction". The woman listened excitedly to Camargue's narration; later on the train across the European continent, Camargue read some stories drafted by Kafka in the last stage of his life; Beginning and ending, this is the last and most moving one of all Kafka's novels. He took her to Amherst, Massachusetts, USA, in order to show her to see the old girl Emily.Dickinson (Emily. Dickinson (1831)-1886), a famous American lyric poet. ) house and small study where the lyric master wrote some of the best poetry of the nineteenth century; she lived in isolation in a community of only four thousand inhabitants; Reina, you Understand her situation?Once on Route 116, and drawing ever closer to Amherst, Camargue recited a few poems by Dickinson; with her poems the timid woman afflicted with nephritis changed the routine of affection forever: " Why are we in such a hurry/Really, why?/Wherever we go/It always bothers us/Is not dead." One night in spring, Camargue invited Reina to a restaurant on Piccadilly (Piccadilly. A street in the famous entertainment center in the West End of London, England.) for dinner, and at the same time invited several British novelists— Camargue made friends in need.He took Caso.Isicuro, Martin.Amis, Ian.McEwan and Julian.Barnes got together, overcoming the apprehension of some of them, for some of them had not seen each other for years, and were always apprehensive about sitting together to eat. After a lively conversation between them—Reina remained silent—she forced each of them to leave their personal phone numbers and e-mail addresses, with a thick-skinnedness that would embarrass the Camargue host. She took on the role of goddess, indeed; she succeeded in making Camargue think that by sleeping with her, his body had become younger and better. She moaned incessantly during the frantic lovemaking; then, as he went to the bathroom and peered at himself in the mirror, he felt the muscles in his stomach tighten; It is in harmony with his stubby "bull" neck.Even when the orgasm came, Reina didn't say she loved him. She uttered pleasurable "ow, ow," "so, so," or "mine, mine"; she rarely opened her eyes to look at him.Only one night, at the house of San Isidro, she rested her head on Camargue's chest for his fondling. "Camargue!" she called to him. "Hey." He replied absent-mindedly. "I don't know why it takes so much effort for me to like someone." "But you like me." "Yes. You're the only one I like." A few days later, she was on a business trip to a guerrilla zone in Colombia; everything changed.The fool to whom she had committed herself so rashly in the forest quickly undermined all that the Camargue had taught her over the years.The guy had turned Reina into a morally immoral person: that is, into someone whose only morality was the guy's desires.She wanted to go back to that guy every moment, even to the point where her center of gravity was no longer on herself, but wherever that foolish lover dictated: Temuco, Caracas ,Rio.She would do anything extremely humiliating to be at the side of her lover; Camargue felt that such a weakness was an affront to the love he had once harbored.thinking.Maestro absolutely failed to understand the magnitude of her betrayal and the just nature of the Camargue's revenge.Had Maestro known a little bit about this history, he wouldn't have defended her.Nobody will defend a self-defeating man. When the telephone rang at seven o'clock in the afternoon, Camargue could hardly remember that Deanna was calling.Reina was still in the same position: only once had she retracted her right leg, bringing it close to her stomach.The daughter burst into tears when she heard the Camargue's voice.He tried to think of a word of comfort, but could not. Deanna said, "Daddy, I really want to be with you right now. Here and there, I want to be with you." He said, "Don't be sad!" "I'm not sad anymore. Anhela has suffered so much, and it's almost a relief in the end." "You sound like an adult now. You must have matured a lot in the past few days." "I'm grown up. I understand why you can't come here. I get it all." He said, "Thank you. You are an amazing girl. You are the best daughter I could have had." "You know what? Now..." He stopped listening.The woman's body trembled and began to shake, as if a wave of sea water was stirring in her internal organs.Her eyes were wide open, but fixed oddly on a point behind herself.The rhythm of her breathing quickened. She flapped her arms to scratch at the air in the room, although there was no longer any oxygen: maybe confinement there could only create despair and emptiness.She finally leaned over to the side of the bed—precisely the side facing away from the window, the side that Camargue couldn't see; judging by the intensity of her convulsions, Camargue figured she was vomiting. He muttered, "Anhela, I have to hang up." "Dad, what are you talking about? I'm Deanna, Deanna. Which of us do you think is dead?" "Daughter, I don't know, I don't know. Let's talk about it tomorrow. Let's talk about it another day!" The woman vomited again; she tried to stand up, but failed. She didn't seem to know where she was; she, like him, had lost her sense of time.The past becomes the present or the future; reality stagnates; she must recover from the present without a fever; she is already smeared with blood she has not yet seen; she is looking for water: thirst, thirst, which makes She despaired; but the body did not obey.She has been stripped of her body, Camargue, as you wish; that body belongs neither to her nor to anyone else.It was only now that she could rise up and light the lamp; it was enough to make the power she had lost flow back into her body.You believe it: what she saw petrified her. But how could she resist a horrible event that had already happened?What can she do?You see her clinging to the walls, walking against the furniture, you see her swaying.At any moment, her knees might give way and she might fall to the ground.Still, she went on, toward the window.You no longer need a telescope to observe her: she is clearly discernible to the naked eye.It was a horrible image.God!How did some vomit get in my hair!Her frantic look didn't match her gaze.The window blocked her way, which made her even more bewildered.Either way, she was struggling desperately.Camargue, you'd love to call her.It is possible that as soon as she found out that she had been raped, as soon as she saw the blood and dirt, she lost her composure, struggled to contain herself and did things she should not have done.But her fate had already moved by itself.Stopping this movement is no longer within your grasp.You see her banging her fists on the glass, dealing with the window latch, her head in her hands.You think she is crying; but the woman is not crying: she has no tears, no heart; it is no use crying, because there is no future.She struggled, probably with her knees propped up against the wall, and finally pushed the window open.Suddenly two windows were flung open; the cool night air suddenly blew on her.Then she leaned forward and looked at the empty street; here and there, here and there, there were garbage bags piled up here and there.It was eight o'clock; the whole street, full of banks and bureaux de change, was a scene of helplessness and cruelty, but the woman did not see it.She leaned out of the window as hard as she could, bent down, and shouted with all her strength, "Help me! Is there anyone? help me! " No one agreed.No one passed by.Camargue, you won't answer either. You'll sit back in the chair by the telescope; you'll listen to her screaming until she passes out again. Enso.Maestro finally agrees not to wait for Reina any longer.The next day, Reina missed the editorial meeting again, and Camargue ordered a dismissal telegram.Skadi wrote down the president's order, and couldn't hide his joy: he had never been able to stand Reina, and it made him very unhappy that she climbed onto the president's lap in such a short time.This morning his nose was red again.Boils appeared again on the wings of the nose and around the lips. Camargue asked: "Did the woman send any sign of being alive from Rio?" "No," Skadi reported. "Yesterday we called her home five or six times; each time we left a message. The doctor has also been there. But no one answered. This is the third time we have recorded that she has been absent from work without asking for leave." "Skadi, you act! Come over after the meeting, and let's talk about the details of the matter." "Doctor, let us deal with this matter." Skadi begged graciously. "You are in the midst of family misfortune, why are you making such trivial matters!" "Don't worry about me. Do as I say!" The editor of the political group was a little anxious, because since the vice president resigned, no one could find his whereabouts.He turned off his mobile phone, refused all requests for interviews, and even refused to answer calls from his relatives and friends.Camargue estimated that the vice president was covering up something so important that he would rather not tell than lie. Enso.Maestro ventured: "Reina Remis can find the vice president. She's by his side all day during the cabinet crisis." "Maybe still with him now!" Camargue hinted slyly. Maybe she was going to sell the results of her investigation to the National.This girl can do anything. "Enso. Maestro retorted: 'You're too ruthless.Yes, she was embarrassing us.However, she has already given us what she should take out. There is a kind of people who put happiness in life first, and then talk about career. "It's wrong to say that there is a kind of person.It should be a woman.They think they are superior to others.In order to occupy God's warm throne, it is women who kill God. " Camargue spent the rest of the morning calling the editorial director of the Herald and the editors of the three remaining weekly magazines in Buenos Aires.Eschewing the cumbersome condolences for Anhela's death, Camargue informed the head of the above-mentioned newspaper of the following: Reina, one of the main editors of Le Journal.Remis — known to all the leaders — took bribes from an airline company and possibly a restaurant chain; organized press coverage of said businesses.Camargue said regretfully: "I warned her more than once. But she did it again and again. I had no choice but to fire her. I'm sure: sooner or later she will call you and find a job. I think accepting This kind of person is not right for you. Frankly, if you accept her, you will do me a disservice." One of the editor-in-chief wanted to seriously show his arrogance, and stopped Camargue in a mocking tone: "You mean Reina Remis? How strange! I always thought you were a couple!" Camargue replied: "It aggravates her perfidy. I have been lenient with her in the past. I opened up for her a world she didn't deserve.Since she betrayed our newspaper, she will betray any unit. "Ah, here comes Skadi. The mission now entrusted to him is a matter of life and death. The director of the personnel department has been standing in the front hall of the office for more than ten minutes.The female secretary told Camargue: As soon as Skadi walked into the president's reception room, he kept his eyes fixed on the ground, as if the weight on his shoulders made him unable to lift his head, as if he couldn't believe that he was so blessed to be in the Work in such a trusted position. Camargue said: "Skadi, you can't tell anyone what I entrust you to do." The director of the personnel department felt that these words were enough to prove the value of his life! "Dr. Camargue, you can rest assured of me." He replied, unable to help using the first person: "I am not Reina Remis." "I know that. I want this conversation to remain between you and me forever." "You don't have to worry!" "Okay, please sit down. It's inconvenient to talk standing up." "Doctor, please allow me to stand still." "Skadi, someone called me threateningly. The man imitated the voice of Octavio, the president of the Herald. When I went to answer the phone, the man said: If you dare to torture Remis, then Look out for you! Cars will crash you, or short-circuit you when you turn on the TV." "Doctor, we should call the police!" "For what? To waste our time? No, Skadi! The best way is to enter Reina. Remis' e-mail; find out who she's writing to, what we're talking about.The people who threatened me are all in her mailbox. " "Doctor, it's easy to get into her mailbox. We have the password. The woman uses two methods of accessing the Internet: one is the local area network of the newspaper; of." "Skadi, do you know my password too?" "Doctor, there is nothing we can do but this. Any emergency will happen. God bless you!" "Then you give me the password. I will check the information myself." "Doctor, please listen to my last suggestion. There is a 38-caliber Taurus brand revolver in our personnel department office, which is only for self-defense, and is used for the situation you just mentioned. To purchase a gun license Permit issued in the name of the administrative leader of the Daily News Agency: all the formalities are complete. You should bring this pistol! Just in case. You bring a gun, we can feel more at ease. " "Thank you. You're such a friend." Camargue offered Skady his hand attractively, without thinking about what this meant for the Director of Personnel. If he had stretched out his hand for Skadi to kiss, the Director of Personnel would have kissed without hesitation.But shaking hands with the president is almost unthinkable for Skadi. "Excuse me, Doctor, I have to go. It's too much for me to shake your hand." "Come on, man, stop kidding!" said Camargue. However, Skadi bowed his head, did not turn around, and slowly retreated towards the door. As Camargue expected, Reina did not call the police.At six o'clock in the morning, she called and woke up her mother; she asked her to help. She heard her mother ask her reproachfully on the phone: "Need help at this hour? Daughter, you know your dad and I don't get up until nine o'clock." "Mom, I need you. I never asked you for anything!" "Is it really that serious? You can't even wait for three hours?" Before, she never thought that loneliness would be so heavy, it would be a center of gravity, and it would become a force that pushes people into the abyss.She felt that loneliness was sinking into her flesh; she didn't know how to dig it out of her body. She could call Herman, but what to say to him?Could it be that someone broke into her room at night? Could it be that she didn't realize what happened afterwards?Someone had raped her, that was certain; someone had blood stained her sheets, although she didn't notice any wounds on her body, only a burning sensation in her abdomen.Herman must have wondered: How did such a terrible movement not wake her up?She would say: I don't know.I passed out. Such an explanation is unbelievable.But anyway, why not call him?She knew that his phone in Bogota was far away from the bedroom, in the study.If you call at this hour, you can only leave him a message. She was thinking repeatedly: What should I tell him?她想出一些不十分说明问题的话，但是却可以传达出她急于见到他的愿望、急于躲藏到他怀抱里的愿望。他曾经成千上万次地答应过：只要她需要，他可以立即飞到她身边。他一遍又一遍地说：“只要你需要，只要你需要，……” 雷伊娜一想到他使用的那些奇怪的形容词，就笑了：“姑娘，我对你的爱真是像个哭叫不停的孩子。这是多么顽强的爱啊！”那她为什么不使用同样的语言呢？ 电话录音机的“嘶嘶”声刚一开始，她就说道：“我顽强的爱人：你能马上来布宜诺斯艾利斯吗？越早越好！就今天吧。求你了！坐第一个航班。赫尔曼，这不是任性。不仅是我需要你。你是我在这个世界上惟一可以信赖的人。发生了一些可怕的事情。给我回话！给我回话！从上午十点或者十一点起，我差不多整天在家。我爱你！” 她不知道首先应该做什么：是检查门锁是否被撬呢，还是打电话给医生。现在医院已经变成了疾病的巢穴，而不是康复中心。急诊室里总是躺满了受伤的人；凡是没有失去知觉的人都要把身上的钱全部掏光去买纱布、药棉和酒精。总是缺东少西；总是没完没了的排队。 修锁店这个钟点还关着门呢。那只好跟妇科医生通话了。她知道：现在是清晨六点半。她听到的惟一回答是要她另外一个号码的录音。把电话打到医生家里是不够慎重的。大夫肯定气哼哼地接电话，但是，一切她都不在乎了。 他要多少钱就给他多少。卡马格教给她为数不多的有用课程之一就是：如果疾病的闪电打中了你，你应该拿出全部积蓄来制止病情加重。啊，卡马格！如果给他打电话，会怎么样？有什么用处呢？难道他没有揍过她吗？难道不是他使近日来在报社里备受磨难吗？Enso.马埃斯特罗也不可靠：卡马格和恩索是由同一个传动轴承驱动的两个车轮。 雷伊娜哀求道：“大夫，请回话！请回话！”终于有人接电话了。雷伊娜急忙连连道歉。“如果事情不严重，就不会打搅您了。”医生问道：“有多严重？”口气不大相信。“有人在我自己家里把我强奸了，您想想这有多可怕吧？” 医生是个多疑的人：说起话来，那声音仿佛穿着带有护领的外科手术衣、戴着灭菌手套以及一个把声音扭曲成便秘时费力“吭哧”的口罩。大夫说：“或许咱们应该报警。是不是你已经报案了？”雷伊娜回答说：“发生这样紧急的事情，大夫，您是我惟一可以信任的人。您怎么能劝我去报警呢？您生活在布宜诺斯艾利斯，还是生活在奥斯陆（奥斯陆，挪威王国首都。以自然环境优美，社会治安良好闻名于世。）？您知道在这里如果一个妇女说出我抱怨的事情，那会怎么样吗？我绝对不去警察局。您愿意接待我吗？不然我就请别人了。”“您去浦里穆。英特尔。巴雷斯化验室去吧！”医生口气自然地回答道，好像患者的愤怒就是他生活的组成部分一样。“我打电话过去，让他们给您验血，化验阴道黏液。 今天我们不能知道您是不是已经感染；但是，雷米丝小姐，应该采取一切必要的预防措施。您看过没有？是不是有虱病？ “没有，雷伊娜没有仔细看看。她也没有触摸疼痛的地方：她只是看看有没有受伤，然后用海绵擦洗。她甚至不知道什么是虱病。医生解释说：”就是虱子，是阴虱。 “雷伊娜惊叫道：”我的上帝啊！I'll take a look.Yes.这里有东西，样子在动弹。 “医生安慰她说：”别担心！那是寄生虫，很容易消灭的。去化验之后，请到我诊所来！从九点起，我等着您。如果您愿意避开警察，咱们就不报案；但是，这可不够慎重。您是一位记者，在报纸上发表过一些严厉揭露性的文章。您受到的这种袭击可能还会重演。 “雷伊娜让电脑跟英特网连接着，等待赫尔曼的回音。 七点半，电话铃响了；她急忙向电话跑去，一面拍打着膝盖。 一听声音，她就泄气了：是母亲，过错感迫使老人来电话。 母亲说：“雷伊娜，你看看你闹的这个事情。自从你打来电话以后，我和你爸爸就没有合眼。现在还需要我去你那里吗？” “不要了，妈妈。问题解决了。谢谢。” “瞧见没有？事情没有那么严重嘛！” “没有，没有那么严重。对不起吵醒您了。” “能说说发生什么事情啦？” “一件傻事。妈妈。工作纠纷。” “如果你再发生类似事件，等一等再打电话。雷伊娜，你知道如果我和你父亲的睡眠少于十小时，我们这一天就毁啦。” “明白了，妈妈。我说过了：对不起。” “我常说，干吗要醒过来呢！这个世界只有丑恶和痛苦，痛苦和丑恶。” 黎明冷得像冰；但是太阳刚一出来，气温迅速上升，万象更新。可是，对雷伊娜来说，太阳总是悲伤的预兆，不是万物开始、迎接生命的迹象，而是相反：万物随时会结束的证明。她慢慢地穿上衣服，随时等待着电话铃响起来。穿衣的动作让她感到脊背、脖子、关节疼痛；她不明白这是什么原因。阴道的灼热感是可以理解的；但是，身体受到的其他伤害却没有道理：她哪里也没有发现挨打的迹象或者青肿的痕迹。打开电视机以后，她发觉今天并不是她想的那一天。她浪费了二十四小时，可又不知道怎么浪费的；她陷入了一场噩梦之中，或许到现在仍然在梦里呢；可能永远无法离开这个堕入其中又纠缠不清的黑暗了。她听见记忆中的什么地方在“嗡嗡”响，找不到，又躲不开，好像是个记忆中的蜂房正慢慢打开，成千上万的工蜂不停地劳作着。这是某种疾病的种子在颤动，在成长，是一只凶狠的蜂王，它飞得越高，死得越痛苦。 她喝水，喝了又喝，仍然不解渴。她盼望赫尔曼早点醒来，快快回信，因此磨蹭到八点一刻才出门去化验室。她可真傻啊！她没有意识到波哥大比布宜诺斯艾利斯早两个小时天亮；赫尔曼有可能一直工作到黎明。更糟糕的是他出差了。但是这不可能。如果雷伊娜没有算错，明天两人应该在里约相会；他不可能同时飞往两个方向。除非他提前行动了，那么现在已经到了巴西，正在等候她呢；可如果是这样，他一定会打电话给她的。电话录音里只有斯卡迪的呼叫，责备她为什么不去上班；还有恩索。马埃斯特罗有礼貌的提醒：“哎呀，小姑娘，小姑娘，你钻到哪里去了？” 无论化验室还是妇科医生都证实了她担心的事情：袭击她的男子患有各种性病。 四周到六周之后才可能告诉她是否是HIv 阳性反应。通常情况下，发病在先，病象在后。 医生给她开了抗生素胶囊；从现在开始——医生强调说：马上！——雷伊娜必须服用抗艾滋病的鸡尾酒式的药物。 医生提醒她说：“您可能会有继发性反应：贫血、焦虑、低烧。” “今天晚上我得去里约。”雷伊娜说道。 “想都不要想！几个月之内，您必须忘记旅行的事情。 您需要有人在旁边照顾。您发生的事情是严重的。 ““大夫，有人在里约等着我呢。他飞了几千公里要看我啊。 " “既然他能去里约，那就能来布宜诺斯艾利斯。很有可能我们必须多次进行化验。” “如果不管怎样我去旅行呢，那能发生什么事情？” “不知道。我不能猜测。雷米丝小姐，您遭受到的性侵犯来自一个病重的人。 您想想会有怎样的后果吧。 " “这事还要拖延多长时间？” “幸运的话，还要几个月。” “我从来不走运。这样的话，要多长时间？” “也许一辈子。” 她恨那套单元房，现在她得回去。她恨楼梯的镀铬栏杆、静悄悄的电梯、死尸一样灰白的墙壁、冷冰冰的房间、镜子。她恨楼下街道空旷的气氛、平安无事的黑夜压迫，只有不幸除外。她可以呆在大草原的露天里，一切都比这座城市的核心来得纯洁；城里的白天有一种实际的生命活力，夜里是真正死亡的压力。但是，她现在不能离去。她也没有地方可去。母亲会对她说：“我们为了照顾你、教育你做了这么多事情，你怎么能这么想呢？难道我们的家不也是你的家？难道你不喜欢礼拜天跟你父亲去农场？不喜欢骑上那匹专门为你喂养的枣红马？”雷伊娜一想到回老家，她就害怕起来，其恐惧程度超过疾病和贫困：不能独立自主，回归到少女状态，回到一切都要顺从的修道院去，回到遵守女院长的严厉规矩的生活去。平坦的天空之上，惟一的主宰者是上帝。思想自由之火熄灭了：不许思考什么孪生的救世主；不许思考一个根据女性原则创造的世界；不许思考穷人终将战胜有权有势的人们。 没有自由，就只剩下了不满与不幸；她不再是她做主，而是一切服从母亲。no! 必须赶紧回那个她仇恨的单元房去，因为就在那个她很想摧毁和烧掉的床边，有电话；赫尔曼会打来的，如果他还没有打过来的话。 录音电话上的小灯表明没有信息。雷伊娜拿起话筒检查一下线路是不是正常；她不耐烦地拨了113 ，里面有个单调的声音播报着时间的呼吸：十一点，十六分，四十秒。出什么事情了吗？难道赫尔曼还在睡觉？应该坚持打下去。 差不多就在两天前她和他还按计划顺畅地交谈过呢。再打一次，另一端，电话机愤怒地跳起来。她对着话筒说道：“亲爱的，亲爱的，”她感到声音悄悄在颤动，呼出一口气，镇定一下。她说：“我在家里，等着你给我打电话。我不能去里约了。 听清楚了没有？我去不成。相反，如果咱俩在布宜诺斯艾利斯见面，那会让我非常快活。I need you.I love you. " 她刚挂上电话，有人敲门。really weird!在这个家，孤独一向是永久性的，孤独是常规，因此门铃的响声吓了她一跳。 惟一来访过的人，就是卡马格，一两次而已。通过门上的窥视孔，她认出那是邮递员：身穿蓝色制服，上面绣有黄色交叉字母。一切陌生的东西都让她觉得是死亡的前兆。不仅是因为两天前的夜里有人传染给她性病；而且传染给她恶性妄想狂，一种她不知道如何隐藏的脆弱本能。 她问邮递员：“你要干什么？” “送电报。”一个坦率、正派的声音回答说。她怎么能猜得出是不是强奸犯又回来了呢。 “从门下塞进来吧。” “需要签字。” “塞进来！看了以后，我签字。”