All is Silence
“CAN YOU hear me, mother? It’s me, Fins!’ She eyed him again in surprise. ‘Fins? There was a party. My son will be called Emilio. Milucho. Lucho.’ ‘It’s a good name, isn’t it, mother? I’m going to work there, in Noitía.’ Again that surprise in Amparo’s tone of voice. ‘Noitía, Noitía . . . I spent an afternoon in Noitía, buying thread. It was hot, very hot. The whole place was burning from the inside out, like a log. And I got caught in a storm.’ They fell silent. Whenever the word ‘storm’ was me...ntioned, the other words waited a bit.
‘What are you going to work as?’ ‘As a secret agent,’ he said in order to see her reaction.
She did what Fins least expected. She burst out laughing. ‘A secret agent? There’ll be lots of those!’ Fins now, for her, was the memory of an outing. Nothing more. Lucho Malpica, a child who was yet to be born. And Noitía, a nightmarish place, a place she’d gone to one day to buy thread and been attacked by a storm. She was behind him, calm, unconcerned, with her cushion, teaching her carer the secret art of making lace.MoreLess
‘What are you going to work as?’ ‘As a secret agent,’ he said in order to see her reaction.
She did what Fins least expected. She burst out laughing. ‘A secret agent? There’ll be lots of those!’ Fins now, for her, was the memory of an outing. Nothing more. Lucho Malpica, a child who was yet to be born. And Noitía, a nightmarish place, a place she’d gone to one day to buy thread and been attacked by a storm. She was behind him, calm, unconcerned, with her cushion, teaching her carer the secret art of making lace.MoreLess
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