"Look, Angelina, I don't know how things were with my dad. But people don't do things like what you did to him, that seems obvious. Was it for the money? — "
She cut me off. "All right, all right. No insults."
"How much did they pay you? I would have paid you as much to keep quiet."
"Oh yeah? And I would have been just as happy? I don't think so, dear, I don't think so. Do you want me to tell you the truth? I would have done it for free, yes, sir. People need to be told things as they are."
"People don't give a damn, Angelina. What you did-"
"Look, I have to go to sleep. It's late and I have to get up early. Don't call me again, Gabriel. I don't have to explain myself to you or to anybody. Ciao."
"No, wait."
"What?"
"Don't hang up on me. You know where I am?"
"Why should I care? No, really, don't tell me you called me to talk crap? I'm going to hang up. Bye."
"I'm in my dad's apartment."
"Great. What else?"
"I swear."
"I don't believe you."
"I swear," I said. "I came here to find your phone number. I was going to phone you to insult you."
"My phone number?"
"In my dad's phone book, I don't have your number."
"Oh. Right, very interesting, but I need to go to sleep. We'll talk some other time. Bye."
"Did you watch the program tonight? Did you see yourself on television?"
"No, I didn't watch the program," said Angelina, obviously annoyed. "No, I didn't see myself on television. They didn't call me, they said they'd call before showing it and they didn't call me, they lied to me, too, OK? Can we hang up, please?"
"It's just that I need to know a couple of things."
"What things, Gabriel? Come on, don't be a drag. I'm going to hang up. I don't want to hang up on you, hanging up on people is rude, but if you force me to I will."
"What you did to my dad is serious. He-"
"No, no, wait a second. What he did to me, that was serious. Leaving without saying anything, dumping me there like an old rag. That is what you don't do to a person."
"Let me speak. He trusted you, Angelina. Not even I knew those things, he hadn't even told me the things he told you. And that, obviously, affects me as well. All those things he told you. All the things you said on television. So I want to know if it's true, that's all. If you made some of it up or if it's all true. It's important, I don't have to explain why."
"Oh, so now you're accusing me of lying."
"I'm asking you."
"With what right?"
"Without any. Hang up if you want."
"I'm going to hang up."
"Hang up, go on, hang up, don't worry," I said. "It's all lies, isn't it? You know what I think? I think my dad hurt you, I don't know how, but he hurt you, leaving you, getting tired of you, and you're getting even like this. Women can't stand anyone getting tired of them, and this is how they get even, like you're doing. Taking advantage of the fact that he's dead and can't defend himself. You've got a chip on your shoulder, that's all, that's what I think. You betrayed him in the most cowardly way, and all because the old man decided that this relationship wasn't worth carrying on, something anyone has the right to do in this bitch of a world. This is slander, Angelina, it's a crime and you can go to jail for it; of course you're the only one who knows if you're slandering him or not. What do you feel when you think about it, Angelina? Tell me, tell me what you feel. Do you feel strong, do you feel powerful? Sure, it's like sending an anonymous threat, like insulting someone under a pseudonym. All cowards are the same, it's incredible. The power of slander, eh? The power of impunity. Yes, slander is a crime, although no one's ever going to prove it in your case. That's you, Angelina, you are the lowest of the low: a thief who got away with it."
She was crying. "Don't be mean," she said. "You know full well I didn't make any of it up."
"No, the truth is I don't know. The only thing I know is that my dad's dead and you're dragging his name through the mud all over Bogota. And I want to know why."
"Because he left me in the worst way. Because he took advantage of me."
"Please, don't be trite. My dad's incapable of taking advantage of anybody. He was incapable."
"Well, that's what you think; it's not for me to tell you any different. But no one ever left you, you can see that for miles. I know what happened in Medellin, I know what he made me believe. He made me think he was coming back and he didn't come back, he told me to wait for him and left me there waiting, I know all that, and that was from the start, he planned all that, he needed my support and he thought: Well, she can come with me and once we get there and she's no use to me anymore, I'll leave her there. He made me believe-"
"What did he make you believe?"
"That we were going away together. That we were a couple and we were spending Christmas together."
"And didn't you go away together?"
"No, we went so he could take care of a little business. And once I'd completed my function I turned into a nuisance."
"They're two separate things."
"What are?"
"One: asking for help. Two: wanting to be helped."
"Oh no, don't give me that crap. All men-"
"Where are your parents, Angelina?"
"What?"
"Where is your family?"
"No, just a moment. That's out of bounds, watch it."
"How long has it been since you spoke to your brother? Years, right? And wouldn't you like to speak to him again, have someone who reminded you of your parents? Of course you would, but you don't because you've been estranged for a long time, and now it's hard to get close again. You'd like to, but it's difficult. Getting close to people is always difficult. People who are distant are frightening, it's completely normal. But you know what? It would be easier if someone helped you, like if I went with you to Cartagena."
"Santa Marta."
"If I went with you to Santa Marta and sat and had something to drink while you went and met your brother and talked out what you need to discuss. If things went well, there I'd be for you to tell me. If they went badly, if your brother told you to go to hell and said he didn't want anything to do with you, to go back where you came from, there I'd be. And we could go to the hotel, or wherever, and we'd lie down and watch television, if that helped you, or we'd get drunk, or screw all night, whatever. But there is another possibility: after going to see him, you decided for other reasons you didn't want to come back. That's something else, it wouldn't be a reason for me to go around slandering you afterward. Get the message or shall I explain it more clearly?"
"I don't want to see my brother."
"Don't be an idiot. It's an example, an analogy."
"It might be what you say. But all the same, I don't want to see him."
"That's not what we're talking about. Oh please, what an idiot. We're talking about my dad."
"I have no interest in seeing my brother. Maybe he did, but I don't."
Silence.
"OK," I said. "How do you know he's not interested?"
"No, I don't know, I imagine."
"Why do you imagine that?"
"He didn't come to my parents' funeral. What else does that prove?"
"Don't cry, Angelina."
"I'm not crying now, don't mess with my life, OK? And if I feel like crying, what's it to you? Leave me alone or I'm hanging up right now, let me be-"
"Can I tell you something odd?"
"Or I'll slam the phone down."
"I went to give blood. The day of that bomb, when they blew up Los Tres Elefantes."
Silence.
"What blood type are you?" she said after a while.
"O positive."
Another silence.
Then: "Like my dad. Did you really donate blood that day?"