Chapter 8
1036 Words
MILY, when he saw her, pulled out the file. She had such a particular face, that one
She had such a particular face that one remembered it, even if one never thought of her again.
-You have an hour at six o'clock,- she said, -if you wish to go for a walk in the meantime.... You have
plenty of time. It's not five o'clock yet.
-I'll wait.
-As you wish -and without transition-. Tell me, is everything going well?
-Of course.
-Go to the lounge. We'll call you back.
Again many unfamiliar faces. But she thought to herself that
everything had changed since the first time. Not the faces of the waiting customers, no.
not the faces of the waiting customers, no. She herself.
It was one thing to know that Dan had died that morning, and quite another to assume he had cowardly abandoned her,
to assume that he had cowardly abandoned her.
Poor Dan!
She didn't think, poor her. She was a realist. She knew her duties and her
responsibilities.
She started reading a magazine and saw the usual faces. Those who appeared on
television, those who were part of a comfortable elite in a society that worked that way, by inertia, by habit.
society that functioned like that, by inertia, by habit.
It would seem that all those faces had their fixed place in the magazines.
She left them jaded.
Dissatisfied with a system that always worked the same way.
And she waited for her time.
At ten past six Marta, the nurse, appeared.
-Come in,- she looked at her. It was her time.
She hadn't seen the doctor for twenty days. Her pregnancy was progressing. Not even the
even the grief of Dan's death hadn't caused her any trouble. She thought of a thousand details
and shrugged his shoulders.
He wore a white thread-count suit jacket. Bottle green shirt. The skirt
narrow and a little open on one side. Blasier unbuttoned. At the moment
she had not yet bought any clothes. And her waist was still the same. Neither
no discomfort, which indicated that he had inherited something from his mother....
her mother...
She thought about Alfredo Menchaca's ad.
In a way and looking back, maybe they were good. But they were not. And not because she was different from her own mother.
because she was different from her own mother.
She knew where she came from, what she wanted, where she could go....
She walked into the office.
-Hello, Alice,- the doctor greeted her as if he had seen her the day before, and it had been twenty days since that visit and that conversation.
It had been twenty days since that visit and that conversation. How is it going?
-Fine, fine.
-Take off your jacket. That's it. Sit down here. Let's take a look at your blood pressure. No
I don't like,- he added, in a professional tone, -touching expectant mothers to the end.
the end. The ultrasound will tell us how it's going,- he looked at her blood pressure, sitting on the edge of the table.
edge of the table. It's going well. We'll have to do some tests. You can leave them
can leave them for me in the entrance, in Miss Mily's possession, tomorrow. Now go into the little room.
You know what you have to do.
That was right.
Because, in spite of going alone to the office, it was very correct and delicate.
He didn't even touch her.
There was an exquisite distinction about him.
-Let me know when you are ready. It will be easier this time because of the clothes you are wearing.
and laughing amiably. Nothing is showing yet.
She made an acquiescent gesture.
And when she was settled, she called him.
Alfredo appeared with his thick-rimmed glasses, his white coat, his professionalism.
professionalism.
-Don't lose detail of the screen in front of you. Let's see if I can tell you
whether it's a boy or a girl.
Sitting on a stool, he stared at the screen while his fingers operated the little device that pointed
the little device that indicated with white stripes the status of the fetus.
-Do you see it? -He asked. Look, look. It is securely attached. For the moment there is no
danger of detachment. It is a very normal pregnancy, with no apparent danger.
Let's see if we can pick up the s*x of the fetus.
He couldn't.
-Get dressed, Alice,- he said, getting up and leaving the small room, after turning on the central light and turning off the red light.
Come in for the urine test.
He pressed a buzzer and Marta appeared.
-Set her up for the test,- he said.
-The urine test, Al?
-Yes.
He went to his office.
Martha helped Alice.
-That's it, doctor,- said the nurse.
He appeared again.
He dipped a stick into the urine. He pulled it out and said:
-All good. No albumin. Thank you, Marta,- he dismissed her. And you.
Come in here, Alice.
He felt he had respect for that girl. What's more, he never told Juan to visit her again.
What difference did it make, after all?
Juan had said what he himself thought.
It was hard to admit, but... seeing his reactions, it was no use looking for strange things.
strange things.
He could see her sitting there at her desk. Patient, serene, cold....
-Not cynical,- thought Al, -but absent, not even melancholic anymore-.
Mysterious, in a way.
-I'm going to insist on what I told you,- said Al, settling into the armchair at the table.
But not for the Fanjuls. They buried their youngest son, they have mourned him....
But they are totally unaware of what Daniel left with you. No, don't look at me like that, Alice.
I'm trying to fix part of your future, and not as a friend, let's put it that way,
but as a doctor.
She wasn't asking for anything.
She was visiting him because she liked his behavior.
-May I make a suggestion?
-If it's all right with you.
-It's not for me.
-Well, not for her either,- Alice thought.
I wasn't asking for advice. Only professional help, and she was already giving it.
- Writer
