The Knight´s Legacy

Buenos Aires- 2013

CITY OF BUENOS AIRES

JULY 2013

As he had still to go out before nightfall Matías Lucioni did not enter the scooter home and left it chained to a nearby tree. That part of the neighborhood of Villa del Parque, he thought, is relatively quiet even in these agitated times. He came into the House, where there was no one else, took a quick instant coffee with an already stale bread, changed his pants and shoes donning jeans and slippers, a daily routine following each day upon returning from work and prepare to go to the evening course of the Universidad Tecnológica Nacional. He took his books and went out where the scooter was waiting for him. As he was closing his House door he looked askance to the new neighbor across the street. It was the best House on the block, a large villa with a front garden and brick walls. The girl, about twenty-two years old , was rather short stature, with a very good silhouette including - according to Matías´ critical evaluation-  very well formed buttocks. She had long black hair under a sort of dark wool hat, which contrasted with her very white skin, regular features with a nose that seemed to Matías slightly Semitic, and a bizarre outfit, with a multicolored poncho of Inca design, as well as the hat.

“Disguised as a colla from the High Plateau, when Bolivian girls are dressed with jeans!” Thought slyly Matías. He kept his gaze in the young woman one moment more than it would have been prudent, but he was not reciprocated. He realized to his chagrin that he could not remove the girl from his mind since she had moved to the neighborhood a week earlier.

Matías arrived at the headquarters of the University in Medrano Street and immediately  went to the cafeteria, to meet his teammate and buddy Juan Dorrego. Matias's sister and her husband, with whom he lived until a month earlier, had moved to Barcelona, where his brother-in-law would work in his profession as a dentist and his sister hoped to find a job in sales. The fact is that the rent and the expense of the old House, formerly shared, weighed now only on the shoulders of the young. Juan was from a family of farmers of Junín, in the Province of Buenos Aires and was staying at a boarding House while studying. Matías´ proposal to share the House of Villa del Parque, quite wide, was advantageous for both.

Debora Levinson started her little Suzuki; the machine was new and still had secrets for her so every time she started it in  the first moments she had some tension which calmed down as the car responded meekly at her command. “A small machine for a small woman.” She thought.

As she had  travelled a couple of blocks her mind returned involuntarily to the boy who had been observing her leaving home, and not for the first time. Although Debbie had pretended not to see him a woman always knows when she is looked at.

“Sad figure.”Exaggerated in an attempt to convince her. “Tall, skinny and lanky, sloppily dressed with a frayed jacket, with a blonde bangs and a beard of several days of the same color that made his face look still longer”. Actually  she had to admit having paid more attention to details than she wanted. Debora was the daughter and granddaughter of textile traders, and not paying attention to the attire was a grave sin in her family. She wore an authentic poncho and hat that she had bought in her trip to Cuzco and Machu Picchu; the rest of her clothes, though a bit extravagant, were of good quality.

Debora drove to the Faculty of Philosophy of the University of Buenos Aires, in the neighborhood of Flores, where she was close to obtain her bachelor degree in Philosophy. She watched at the clock it was still early for her classes, but previously she had to attend a meeting of the group of students from Trotskyite orientation she was part of.

Matías returned late from the University. He was tired due to the long working day from eight in the morning until six in the evening and then attending his classes until nearly eleven at night. He wanted to arrive home as soon as possible but before he had had to leave some notes at a fellow´s House in the neighborhood of Caballero. He drove his scooter at the maximum speed allowed by the limited engine along Avenida Pedro Goyena, which had dim lighting partially obscured by the leafy trees of the street. At the junction with Puan he recognized a figure and a car; the woman standing alongside the vehicle exhibited gestures of despair against the car door.

“Bah, that smug. Not my business.” Thought Matías and turned the throttle at maximum speed. Twenty meters ahead he abruptly changed his decision as was his custom and made a U-turn on the avenue, deserted at that hour. Although he did not know yet, that turn would change many things in his life. He put the bike next to the car and the young woman.

“ Hi! You already know who I am.” said with maximum ease. Despite the darkness he guessed that the girl blushed.”What is your problem?”

Debora overcame her outrage at the brazen approach, and especially by having to accept that she recognized the man, which seemed to her slightly humiliating. Her nervousness of being in trouble late in a dark and lonely place beat any female self and strategy.

“ I inadvertently closed the car door leaving inside the  keys and wallet and documents.”

“ Do you have another key at home?”As the woman asserted he added. “All right, ride the bike; I will take home and then bring you back with the keys.”

Debora hesitated for a moment since she did not like the idea of depending on a stranger but at that time she really had no many more offers to solve her problem, so she agreed somewhat reluctantly, praying that no one would break a glass and take the vehicle and the wallet in the meantime.

It was a quick journey at that hour. The oil smell reached the girl's nose. The bike was permanently bouncing on the pavement and Debora only now fully appreciated the value of the suspension system in her car. She had to hold firmly to the driver´s waist and was hard for her to stay on the narrow backseat. When they finally arrived  at her House  at Argerich Street she was in the verge of a panic attack.

“Go look for the keys, I'll wait here.”

“No way, my father will carry me or I will take a taxi to go back where I left my car.

The refusal was useless and Debora had to resign and  ring the bell of her House. Her father appeared after a while wearing a robe de chamber. Matías watched them from afar, but despite the prevailing darkness he clearly distinguished the frown in the father´s.

 Matías was excited because he had few chances to go out with friends; Juan had invited him to  jazz show at Cafe Tortoni, a classic place in Buenos Aires, where he had never been. One of Juan´s cousins played in the band, so that would only charge them what they consumed, which was important for the dwindling finances of both boys.

Upon arrival the band had not made their presentation yet, and although the place had few empty tables, they could find a place. After ordering, Matías scanned the kind of basement where they were. Suddenly his eyes lingered in one of the tables near the stage, and the youth startled  so that Juan asked what happened.

“Nothing, a person I did not expect to find here.”

Debora was with a couple of people older than her. Several minutes later she also scanned the place and saw Matías. Her reaction also led to the same question by the man at her table.

“Just a neighbor.” Due to the curiosity of the couple was accompanying her she had to give an abbreviated version of the episode of the car keys. After a while, a waiter approached Matías and Juan. “The gentleman of that table invites you both to join them.” Matías heart raced, the waiter was the pointing at the table where the girl was.

“Of course” Juan answered without consulting his friend. Both young men moved then to the other table, where there was still a little room.

“So, why don´t you introduce us to your friends, or neighbors, or whatever.” The woman who was with Debora told her with good vibes.

“Well ... actually, I do not know ...”

“Matías, and this is Juan.” Anticipated the young man.

“ I am Bernardo, but call me Chiche” Said the man with an expression between surprised and amused. “ She  is my girlfriend Lucy. Ah !, just in case you didn’t know, your neighbor´s name is Debora but we call her Debbie, and  she is my niece.”

During the jazz session the conversation was scarce due to the environmental noise, but at its end Chiche invited the four companions for a drink in the cafe above the basement where they had been.

 Chiche, a man about forty-five years old , skillfully guided the conversation looking for details about the lives of the young men. Matías told of his birth in Esquel, where his parents Ayinhual and Gerardo live.

“Ayinhual is an Aboriginal name and you look like a gringo instead.” said Lucia. “

“But gringos are called the Yankees.” Protested Debbie.

“But in what country will do you live?” Added jokingly Chiche. “ They do call them in that way in Mexico or Central America, but in Entre Rios, where Lucy  was born and indeed throughout Argentina gringos are the Italian and other European farmers and their offspring.”

“Yes, my paternal grandfather came to live at the Río n***o Valley after World War II Italy and married with the daughter  of a countryman. From there they moved further south to Esquel. But my maternal grandmother was a Mapuche Indian.

“You don´t look Indian as I do, gringuito.” Said Lucia, stretching her arm and taking him gently by the chin in an affectionate form

Juan, who observed the conversation dynamics looked at Chiche in search of some reaction, but he just looked amused; on the other hand, a lightning crossed through Debbie´s eyes  and Juan attributed it to jealousy.

“What happens is that my maternal grandfather was Ukrainian.”  Matías had to complete his genealogy as apologizing for it.

“Pouf, what a mix!” Said Chiche. “Tell me, What do you do for a living?”

“When I came to Buenos Aires to study I started working in a metal workshop, but in 2002 it closed by the crisis. Then I worked in different things to survive until I got the job in the workshop of an auto dealer”. Here Juan noticed an involuntary gesture of displeasure in Debora´s face.”  What about you? What you do?”Asked in turn Matías.

“I own a factory of brain games that we mostly export. I ultimately sell painted cardboard with value added.” Responded realistically Chiche. The rest of those present gave then a succinct explanation of their activities; Debbie declared to engage only in her studies of philosophy, which was recorded by Matías attentive antennas. Talk then spread about the tastes and interests of each and the more dispersed subjects and lasted still an hour proving that the participants felt comfortable. Finally, at the beginning of the first yawns by the lateness of the hour, they decided to end the evening.

Leaving the Café Tortoni, the two groups split their paths. Juan and Matías walked a couple of blocks to the site where they had parked the scooter chained as usual to a lighting column.

“This Debbie likes you.” Unexpectedly stated Juan.

“What are you saying? She ignores me completely, or worse looks at me in disgust.”

“I know what I say.” Insisted Juan with his small-town shrewdness. Matías felt a mixture of complacency and distrust in the affirmation of his friend.