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Authors: Mario Vargas Llosa

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“I’m glad he stood you up,” the Jaguar said. “Now you know how I felt when I saw you on the beach with that guy.”

“What did she say?” Skinny asked.

“All you think about is revenge,” Teresa said.

She pretended she was going to hit him, but her raised fist hung in the air and her eyes were shining and challenging. The Jaguar grasped her fist. Teresa let him pull her toward him, and leaned her head against his chest, hugging him with her free hand.

“It was the first time I’d kissed her,” the Jaguar said. “I mean on her lips. And she kissed me back.”

“Of course,” Skinny said. “Naturally. When did you get married?”

“A little later,” the Jaguar said. “About two weeks later.”

“What a rush!” Skinny said. He had another shot of pisco in his hand, tilting it back and forth with the casual ease of an expert. The liquor kept mounting to the brim and sinking back.

“The next day, she waited for me outside the bank. We took a walk, then we went to the movies. And she told me that night that she’d told her aunt everything. Her aunt was furious and didn’t want her to see me again.”

“She’s a good girl,” Skinny Higueras said. He had been sucking a half of a lime, and now he raised the shot of pisco again. His eyes were bright and greedy. “What did you do?”

“I asked the bank for some salary in advance. The boss is really okay. He gave me a week off. ‘I love to see people stick their heads in a noose,’ he told me. ‘Go ahead and get married if you want, but I’ll expect you to show up on Monday morning at eight o’clock sharp.’”

“Tell me about that sainted aunt of hers,” Skinny Higueras said. “Did you go and see her?”

“Afterward,” the Jaguar said. “That same night, after the movies, I asked Teresa if she wanted to marry me.”

“Yes,” Teresa said. “Yes, I do. But what about my aunt?”

“She can go fuck herself,” the Jaguar said.

“Is that what you really said?” Skinny Higueras asked.

“Yes,” the Jaguar said.

“Don’t talk like that in front of me,” Teresa said.

“She’s a good girl, all right,” Skinny Higueras said. “I can tell. You shouldn’t’ve said what you did about her aunt.”

“I get along fine with her now,” the Jaguar said. “But when we went to see her after we got married, she slapped my face.”

“She must be something special,” Skinny Higueras said. “Where did you get married?”

“In Huacho. The priest didn’t want to marry us. He kept talking about banns and God knows what else. He gave me a bad time.”

“I’ll bet he did,” Skinny Higueras said.

“Can’t you see we’ve run away?” the Jaguar asked. “Can’t you see we haven’t got much money? How do you think we can wait for eight whole days?”

The door of the sacristy was open, and beyond the priest’s bald head the Jaguar could see a portion of the side wall of the church. It was covered with ex votos, small scraps of painted tin half hidden by grime and dust. The priest had folded his arms on his breast, with his hands snuggling together under his chin. Teresa pressed against the Jaguar, a look of terror in her eyes. Then she began sobbing.

“I got mad when I saw her crying,” the Jaguar said. “So I grabbed the priest by the neck.”

“No!” Skinny said. “By the neck?”

“Yes,” the Jaguar said. “You should’ve seen how his eyes popped out.”

“Do you know what it costs?” the priest said, rubbing his throat.

“Thank you, Father,” Teresa said. “Thank you very much.”

“What’s your price?” the Jaguar asked.

“How much money have you got?” the priest asked.

“Three hundred soles,” the Jaguar said.

“Give me half,” the priest said. “Not for myself. For the poor.”

“And he married us,” the Jaguar said. “He even sent out for a bottle of wine, and we drank it in the sacristy. Teresa got a little drunk.”

“But what about her aunt?” Skinny asked. “Come on, tell me what you did.”

“We came back to Lima the next day and we went to see her. I told her we’d got married and I showed her the certificate the priest gave me. That’s when she slapped me. Teresa got mad, she told her she was selfish, stupid, I forget what else. They ended up crying, because her aunt said we were leaving her to die like a dog. I promised her she could live with us, and that calmed her down. She even went out and invited the neighbors to a party. She isn’t as bad as you’d think. We get along fine now.”

“Maybe,” Skinny Higueras said. “I couldn’t stand living in the same house with an old woman.” He had suddenly lost all interest in the Jaguar’s story. “When I was a kid I lived with my grandmother, and she was as crazy as they come. She spent the whole day talking to herself and trying to catch her chickens. Trouble was, she didn’t
have
any chickens. Every time I see an old woman I think of my grandmother. I couldn’t live in the same house with one of them, they’re all a little crazy.”

“What’re you going to do now?” the Jaguar asked.

“Me?” Skinny Higueras said, surprised. “I don’t know. Right now I’m going to get drunk. I’ll decide later. I want to have some fun. It’s been a long time since I got around anywhere.”

“If you want, you can stay at my house,” the Jaguar said. “Until you find something.”

“Thanks,” Skinny Higueras said with a laugh. “But I just told you I can’t stand having an old woman around. Besides, your wife must hate me. The best thing is not even let her know I got out. Some day I’ll pick you up at your job and we’ll go have a drink. You know how I like to talk with my friends. But we can’t get together very often. You’ve turned decent all of a sudden, and I don’t try to mix with decent people.”

“Are you going back to the same thing?” the Jaguar asked.

“Stealing, you mean?” Skinny Higueras shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose so. What else can I do? But I’ll have to stay out of Lima for a while.”

“I’m your friend,” the Jaguar said. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

“Yes, there is,” Skinny said. “You can pay for my drinks. I’m flat broke.”

By Mario Vargas Llosa

The Cubs and Other Stories

The Time of the Hero

The Greenhouse

Conversation in the Cathedral

Captain Pantoja and the Special Service

Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter

The War of the End of the World

Perpetual Orgy

The Real Life of Alejandro Mayta

Who Killed Palomino Molero?

Copyright © 1966 by Grove Press, Inc.
All rights reserved
Originally published as
La ciudad y los perros
,
© 1962 by Editorial Seix Barral, S.A., Barcelona
First published in the United States of America
by Grove Press, 1966
Library of Congress Catalog card number: 65-140204

ISBN: 978-0-374-52021-2

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