Corner of the Dead

Chapter 5

[ 43 ] C H A P T E R 5 I WA L K FA S T E R toward the cuyera. The light is on in the bedroom. I run up the path, calling to Karl. I don’t want him to be frightened by the noise outside the window. He’s listening to the radio. He looks like a sick pale child with tear-stained cheeks. When I sit down I realize how tense I’ve been, how my body aches from being so alert, my head too. I mailed everything. I’ll pour wine. Then I’ll make omelets. Water first. I felt as if someone was following me, that something was going to happen that would keep me from mailing the film and then from getting back home. Karl takes my hand. Thank you, I say. For what? This is the first time you’ve touched me since you got back. I’m better. After I went to the bathroom this morning I sat outside on the bench. The sun I had forgotten, and the view, I want to get back to doing things. But when I went inside I was so tired I slept all day. Later when I woke up I put the radio on. There was music from Brazil playing. I closed my eyes and moved slowly across the floor. I was dancing. I was thinking it’s going to be all right. You’re in the clothes you were wearing when you left three [ 44 ] weeks ago. I’ll boil water for a sponge bath. It might make you feel better. I know you aren’t prepared to hear this, that I will disappoint you, but I am terrified. I’m not. Not anymore. What about what you saw? I expected it, except I would not have thought, I didn’t think, the men could do it, it was as if they were raping their sisters, their mothers. There was no way to stop them? No. Don’t tell me more. Our floor is covered in dust. I stand and take the broom and begin sweeping. I use so much force the strands of straw in the head of the broom begin to snap off. I am perspiring even though it is cold inside. My allergies are bad, I say; it’s the dust. It’s so much worse this season. The dustpan, where is it? It should be here with the broom. What am I going to do with this pile? I can’t just leave it right here where we walk. Sweep it into the corner. When I get up I’ll take care of it. For now if it’s off in the corner it won’t bother us. Just let it settle. Come here, please, sit next to me and tell me what was it like in Lima. The military blocked the roads. They banged the Indians’ heads against the buses and kicked them in the shins, but we got through. Don’t they know Sendero doesn’t come by road? ...