The Barcelona Brothers (19 page)

He crosses intersections when the lights turn amber and looks behind him to see if he’s being followed. Apparently not. But he’ll make a little detour, just by way of further precaution.
He remembers one of those quarrels with Epi. It was always so easy to be unfair to him. Alex offered the social worker’s argument: their apartment wasn’t a hotel, and too many people living there could endanger their mother’s pension.

“It’s strange. When Tiffany appeared, you advised me not to get involved with her because she would be my ruin, and now you’re telling me I should set up house with her.”

“Don’t be an idiot. I’m only telling you you’re going to have to make your own way, and don’t come whimpering to me with your tail between your legs when what has to happen happens.”

“Bullshit. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m telling you what I’m telling you.”

“Don’t worry. By the end of the month, we’re out of here. As soon as she settles her parents’ divorce.”

But that date arrived and nothing happened. Actually, Alex liked having the girl close by. He even went out with her sometimes, and he had to say, when she was in a good mood, she was very enjoyable company. Epi would rather her go out with his brother than get bored at home or attend parties with her girlfriends. Alex was the eunuch guarding the queen’s chastity. The harmless creature. But he didn’t mind. He liked entering places with her at his side, both of them caught in the same violet light, with the other couples cooing around them. The guys would look at him and wonder what the hell he had to do to keep that female satisfied. She’d laugh and drink, drink and laugh some more. She didn’t do drugs very much. And when she did, it was always by invitation, always someone
else’s drugs. She rarely spoke specifically about anything; on the occasions when she mentioned Epi, she was affectionate but not passionate. Alex harbored theoretical hopes—never acted upon—of having sex with her someday. The fact of the matter was that lithium had lowered his libido considerably, and his limiting himself to fantasizing about her was due more to pharmaceutical science or laziness than to any self-control. On the other hand, all his masturbation sessions during that period were devoted to her.

By the time he realized Tiffany was using him in order to meet up with Tanveer, it was already too late. How could he have failed to see that sooner? And in any case, what could he have done? Tattle on her to his brother and make an enemy of him? What would be the point? And did Alex perhaps feel an unmentionable desire to be right, to see Epi fail with Tiffany so that he wouldn’t be so unbearably happy while his clever brother, his farsighted brother, was lonely and fucked up? Probably so. But when he saw Tiffany’s eyes change under her tattooed eyelids at the sight of the
Moro
, Alex understood that all was lost. He had to decide whose side he was on. Would he be loyal to his brother, or would he become a confidant, a double agent, in the service of the morbid sentiment that pushed him, without hope, toward Tiffany? For some months, that was the role he chose to play. He was the beard, the advisor, the last layer protecting the girl’s most intimate secrets. But he grew tired of trying to uncouple Epi from Tiffany during the day and weary of acting as a go-between for Tanveer and the girl at night, and that was when he decided to switch
sides and stand by Epi. When he said so to Tiffany, she didn’t bat an eyelid. As far as she was concerned, Alex had become dispensable.

Returning to reality, Alex concludes that Epi must have gotten in touch with her; it’s only logical. Maybe they’re together at this very moment. How will Tiffany react? He doubts her reaction will be what Epi wants. And suppose she wasn’t the reason Epi murdered Tanveer? Alex’s mind dissolves. He keeps up his routine of looking from one side to the other to see if he’s being followed. And yes, he is. Someone’s following him, and Alex even knows his name: Allawi.

“What’s up? Don’t you ever work?”

“Fuck, slow down. I’ve been following you since you left the police station.”

“How did you know I …”

“Walking so fast and looking over your shoulder all the time like that—you’re doing all you can to make the cops suspicious. Besides, what can I tell you? I was behind you a long time, and you never saw me. You can forget about spotting the police.”

Alex wants his ideas clear and well arranged, like a perfect Tetris screen, and Allawi’s disturbing his concentration. When he’s with Allawi, Alex always feels inclined to consider him a good person, but at the same time, he knows Allawi’s whole life is business, whatever form a deal may take. And Alex isn’t sure that helping him find a brother who’s just committed a murder would be something Allawi could put his whole heart into. With great determination, Alex walks faster, but seeing
that his friend is nevertheless continuing to follow him, Alex stops and blurts out, “What do you want, man?”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m just going.”

“You’re going to find Epi, right? Let me come with you.”

“I’m not looking for him. Why should I be?”

“Because of the whores.”

Alex’s face gives him away, and he knows it. They’ve stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Nobody passes them. Before Epi’s brother can formulate the question, Allawi anticipates him: “You don’t know what I’m talking about, right? Okay. The cops have found the van. They say it was abandoned on some street in the upper barrio. A whore lodged a complaint about Epi and Tanveer. Or so I’ve heard. I’ve also heard the cops found Tanveer inside the van, whacked by one of the girl’s pimps. You know how that goes. Talking’s free.”

“Allawi, look, I don’t know anything. Really.” Alex has a practically definitive feeling that he can confide in the barber. Besides, he needs to get his ideas out in the open, out of just his own head, and Allawi has always seemed to be a very clear-sighted guy. But at the same time, Alex isn’t about to show all his cards. “Let’s say I’m going to find Epi and get to the bottom of all the nonsense that’s being talked around here. All right? But what the fuck are
you
doing? Why do you want to come with me?”

“Man, I’m a barber. I’m sick of having to hear about everything secondhand. I want to see things for myself. I want privileged information.”

“You’re a fucking gossip.”

“I don’t know what you mean, but sure I am, that’s what I am, a cossip. And I’m also your friend, man, I say it to you from the bottom of my heart,” Allawi declares sententiously, placing his hand on the left side of his chest.

“It’s gossip. Gossip, not
cossip
.”

THERE’S NOTHING SO DISTURBING AS A PAIR OF TIMOROUS
eyes. Eyes that try to be bright, to convey intimacy, but present only the most complete blackness, like two pools of pitch, like two deep, black holes, the kind of eyes you suspect are capable of turning evil for no apparent reason: a tiny misunderstanding, for example, or a secret sorrow whose existence nobody can recall.

Tiffany sees such a pair of eyes in Epi’s face and thinks about a lamb. She’s never seen a lamb, but she’s sure they bite if you let your attention wander. Like the wolf in “Little Red Riding Hood,” disguised as a lamb, no, as a grandmother, in fact, a lamblike grandmother, a kindly, inoffensive old lady. She didn’t believe Epi when he first said he’d killed Tanveer. She didn’t believe his stories about the whores, either. But it’s evident from Epi’s behavior that something has happened. Maybe Hussein is indeed dead, and Epi wants to take credit
for the heroic feat of killing him. Or maybe he’s just trying to impress her. Or maybe love has simply driven him crazy. And why not? It’s possible he really did kill Tanveer. People do strange things sometimes.

At first she got the giggles. She was on the point of asking him point-blank how somebody like him could have taken out Tanveer. Now she’s glad she didn’t. If there’s one thing her intuition keeps telling her, it’s that those timorous eyes have to remain calm until she manages to get out of this apartment, either by persuasion or trickery.

“Let’s see, Epi, let’s sit down right here. I don’t understand what you’re telling me. You have any cigarettes?”

He passes her the almost empty pack. Tiffany looks at his hand and sees what look like traces of blood under the fingernails. As he lights her cigarette, she takes hold of his hand to prevent him from withdrawing it at once. Their eyes meet. There’s no need to speak. Her eyes seem to understand. His appear to be waiting for forgiveness, for a reward, for both at the same time.

“Is it true? You really killed him?”

“Yes.”

They remain silent, sitting on the floor and facing each other. Tiffany wants to know. She wants Percy to wake up. She wants Epi to let her leave, just like that.

“But why? Did you two fight about something?”

“He said bad things about you. He didn’t respect you,” Epi lies, childishly striving to justify his deed by inventing more reasons for it.

“But that’s not a reason to kill somebody.”

“Are you sorry he’s dead?”

“But he’s not dead, Epi.”

“Yes, he is. He’s dead. And you shouldn’t care, because he’s nothing to you, you weren’t having any more to do with him, didn’t you say that, Tiffany? You told me you two had broken up. You said the worst thing you’d ever done in your life was to be with him, you were sorry for all the stuff that went on with him. You remember that, Tiffany, don’t you? That’s what you told me just the other day. Last week, when we met in the Barmacia. You said he insisted, but you told him that was it, it was all over, right, Tiffany? Did you say that or didn’t you?”

“If I said it, that’s because it was true.”

“So he won’t bother you anymore.”

“Don’t talk nonsense, man. Tanveer’s not—”

“Yes he is, yes he is.”

“I know he’s not, Epi, don’t be tiresome. He survived. He’s fucked up bad, but not enough to die.”

Without knowing exactly why, Tiffany thinks it’s a good idea to do a little improvising and tear down the lie Epi’s telling her. She’s convinced something’s happened to Tanveer—probably a good beating—but she’s even more certain that Epi had nothing to do with it. She considers the possibility that they were together at the time. But then something unexpected occurs: Epi starts asking the questions.

“How do you know he’s alive?”

“That’s what I heard.”

Epi rises, goes to one knee on the floor in front of Tiffany, and grabs her by the arms. “Who told you that? My brother? Did you talk to Alex?”

“No, no … Stop squeezing my arms like that. You’re hurting me.”

Epi pays no attention to this appeal. He says, “Who did you talk to? What did Alex tell you? Did you tell him you were coming here?”

“No, no, I haven’t spoken to him. A girlfriend called and told me Tanveer was alive. In a hospital, but alive.”

“What hospital?”

“How should I know!”

Tiffany sees the fear in Epi’s eyes. If he’s afraid, it must be that he’s really involved in whatever happened to Tanveer. Epi gets up and walks to the window. He’s looking for something in his pants pockets. He’s out of cigarettes, and he needs a smoke right this minute. Tiffany doesn’t have any—she just bummed his last one off him. When he puts his hand in his pocket, he feels the knife. He finds the touch oddly soothing. Because if Tanveer’s still alive, Epi will have to finish the job before the
Moro
leaves the hospital.

“I have to—”

“You don’t have to do anything. Just behave yourself and that’s it.”

“I
am
behaving myself. It’s fucking awesome how much I’m behaving myself.”

“I should go, Epi. Will you help me with Percy?” she asks, giving it a try. Her tone is deliberately sweet. Maybe everything
will turn out to be easier than she expects. It’s possible that Epi will help her, and then this whole mess will be over.

“You don’t understand a thing, do you, Tiffany?”

“What do I have to understand that I don’t understand?”

Anger overcomes Epi. He moves closer to her, very close to her face. Epi’s a stranger. Something’s pushed him to the edge of the abyss, and he can’t stop himself. No use cringing and waiting for the fall. What surprises Tiffany the most is his determination. Apparently, he’s resolved to take action. Now Tiffany regrets the half-truths and half-lies she’s used to prolong the relationship with him. She could never bring herself to break it off completely. Epi was as docile and loyal as a dog. He accepted everything. If you gave him a kick, he’d come back in a while for another one. He didn’t know or didn’t want to know what was going on. It was also true that nothing in her relationship with Tanveer remained the same for more than two consecutive weekends. No sooner did they declare mutual hatred, break up, come to blows, than—in no time at all, a few hours, a few weeks, a month—they were back together, knowing, both of them, that if there was anyone who was made for someone else, it was the two of them, for each other. During those limbo-like intervals, Tiffany would feel better for knowing that Epi was nearby. Always at her disposal. Ready to love her, pamper her, or take her out somewhere.

“Come on, tell me, what do I have to understand, Epi?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

“No, come on, tell me.”

“What can I say? I didn’t want you to go wild with joy when you heard he was dead, but I did want you to see things the way I see them.”

“Look, you lock me up in here and tell me you’ve killed someone. Fine, even fucking great, congratulations. Then there’s my son, on the mattress where you threw him, covered with scratches …”

“I never laid a hand on him.”

“Well, then, you tell me what in the hell has to happen to a kid to knock him out cold at eleven in the morning. I have to take him to a hospital and get him looked at … And what do you want me to say about all this? What’s this movie you’re making, Epi?”

“It’s not a movie.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Sure you do.”

“You know what I think? I think you’re reacting like this because you still love him. Now I see it, I see it clearly. You’ve been lying to me the whole time.”