The Blue Line (23 page)

THE CHOICES

Austral Winters

(1976
,
1987
,
1997)

A
s soon as he heard the name Josefina d'Annunzio, Captain Torricelli allowed Adriana on board with no further questions. He took her up onto the deserted bridge of the transatlantic liner, where the flags flapped overhead in the cold wind. Adriana watched as, down below, the boatswain shouted orders and the passengers standing on the quayside boarded the ship slowly, as per the precise instructions of white-uniformed officers. There were separate lines for each class of travel. The port was teeming with people and the sight of it, with the city in the background, made Adriana anxious.

“Are you sure she isn't here yet? She hasn't tried to contact you?”

“I'm certain. My crew keeps me informed of every single detail.”

“What shall we do?”

“We're sailing in three hours. It's up to you to decide. Once your friend is on board, there'll be no going back.”

The long wail of a ship's horn tore the silence.

The man held out his hand. Adriana jumped as if she'd been caught doing something wrong.

“Oh, sorry,” she said nervously, taking the envelope Father Miguel had given her out of her pocket.

The captain tucked the envelope into the inside pocket of his jacket. He studied Adriana for a moment, then took her by the arm to show her the way down.

“I'll ask one of the crew to go with you to get your friend. I trust him completely; you've got nothing to fear.”

He added: “If your friend is as weak as you say he is, we'll have to pass him off as a crew member who's had a bit too much to drink.”

Adriana adjusted her head scarf and set off, shoulders hunched. The captain placed his hand on the top of the frame of the watertight door and ushered the young girl out, pointing to a metal staircase at the end of the bridge. She walked in the direction he'd indicated. The stairs were steep. A uniformed sailor stood by the guardrail, ready to hold out his hand to her. The captain waved him over and whispered a few words into his ear. Then he turned to the young girl. “Follow him,” he instructed. “Don't waste any time. You have to be back here within three hours.”

The sailor attempted to help Adriana down the steps. She pulled away nervously. The man looked surprised.

“Excuse me,” she murmured, ill at ease.

She hurried down the ship's three decks, almost fell against a capstan, but chose to cling to the rail rather than accept the muscled arm offered to her.

—

When they reached the dock, it was all Adriana could do not to run away. Anxiety was making her clumsy. She felt as though she was being watched, which made her act even more awkwardly. Two men in black leather jackets brushed past them. The sailor took Adriana by the arm and growled at her in a loud voice.

“At least that way people will think you're mad at me,” he said, eyeing her coldly. “You have to calm down.”

Adriana wrested her arm away furiously and walked on at a brisk pace. When they reached San Ignacio church she turned to the sailor.

“Thank you,” she told him, still on the alert.

The man smiled at her.

“I'm going to get my friend.”

“I'll come with you.”

“No. I prefer to go by myself..”

“Give him this uniform. He'll need it,” the man said, handing her the small bundle he'd been carrying under his arm.

He watched her go and lit a cigarette, leaning against one of the columns in front of the church.

Adriana found Theo sitting where the sacristan had left him, on the balcony behind the organ. He'd been given something to eat and had washed his face.
We'll have to say he's been in a fight,
Adriana thought as she looked at him. Theo greeted her with a grimace, still racked with pain.

“Julia's disappeared,” Adriana whispered, once she was within earshot. “The captain has given us three hours to get on the ship. He's sent one of the sailors to help you board.”

“Let's go,” Theo replied unhesitatingly.

“Theo, you don't understand,” she said. “Julia isn't at the meeting place.”

“I heard you. But we have no choice. She's still got three hours to show up, and we can't go looking for her.”

“Listen, Theo, I've been thinking.” Adriana moved a little closer to him. “We can't leave without her.”

“If we stay, they'll kill us. And Julia's sacrifice will have been pointless.”

“So she has to die so you and I can escape?”

“We can't save her. She knows that we have very little chance of success. If she was in our shoes, she would leave.”

Visibly pained, Adriana knelt down beside him. “Theo, Julia saved your life. She went to get you in your cell. If it hadn't been for her, we'd have had no chance of getting away. Father Miguel, the money, the ship: it's all thanks to her.”

Exhausted, she slid to the floor and hid her face in her
hands. After a moment she looked up again and added: “If she's not on the ship, we have to stay behind.”

“Let's go to the ship. I'm sure she's already there. Let's not waste any more time,” Theo decided.

Adriana held out the sailor's uniform.

“Here, put this on. I'll go and find the sailor.”

—

They boarded the
Donizetti
in time. Captain Torricelli's plan had worked. Theo had walked the whole way leaning heavily on the sailor, who stopped at every street corner to make sure no one was following them and to catch his breath.

They boarded the ship through an open cargo door. A group of sailors dressed in the same uniform as Theo were busy loading the last of the supplies. Their escort led them through a maze of stairways and corridors to the far end of a section near the engine room. He opened a heavy watertight door that led into a small windowless cabin with a triple bunk bed.

“I'm going to lock you in until we sail. Captain's orders. We don't want any nasty surprises.”

“But I need to know if Julia's on board,” Adriana said in an anguished voice.

The sailor looked straight at her. “I'm sorry. If your friend was on board, she would already be here.”

“Give me ten minutes, please,” Adriana pleaded. “If she doesn't come, we'll have to stay behind.”

Theo sat down on the bottom bunk. “That doesn't make any sense. Even if Julia isn't here, we need to leave.”

“I can't leave without her.”

The sailor announced he was going to inform the captain.

“I'll be back in twenty minutes. I don't know if he'll give you permission to get off.”

He locked the door and went away.

Adriana shook her head slowly.

“How can you even think of leaving without Julia? She would have given her life for you.”

“I would have given my life for her too,” Theo murmured. “If she's been captured, nothing will save her. They'll kill her, they'll kill me too, and they will have won.”

“You can't admit defeat. Not now!”

“Look at me! I'm a wreck, a piece of human garbage. I can't even walk. You want me to go and play the hero in this state?”

There was a heavy silence. Then Adriana ventured to continue: “You're not the only one who's suffered. We're all recovering. We can look for her together, help her.”

“I don't want to stay. I can't avenge the deaths of those who have died if I'm dead too.”

“Theo . . . Julia's carrying your child.”

Theo shook his head.

“She's not carrying my child anymore; you know that as well as I do. They killed everything I loved, everything I had, everything I was.”

“Theo, wake up! You are more than the person they tried to turn you into.”

“Would you like me to go and turn myself in to make their job easier?”

Theo clutched his stomach, racked with a searing pain. He choked as his body jerked.

“I'll tell you what I'm going to do,” he whispered, his breath coming in gasps. His dark eyes glittered in their sockets. “I'm going to find my brother's killer. That's the only thing I want.”

Adriana shut her eyes and threw back her head. “Revenge, hatred. You're thinking just like them.”

The door opened. “We set sail in ten minutes. If you want to get off the ship, it's now or never.”

Adriana stared at Theo. He turned his face away.

She stood up, arranged her scarf on her head, and stepped out the cabin door.

—

Maria looked at herself in the mirror. It had been more than ten years since she'd chosen to stay in Argentina. Now she could resurface. She liked her new identity. She had a straight black bob that contrasted with her milky skin and bangs covering her eyes, making her look older than she was. These changes were accompanied by a new attitude. She was a charming woman.

She buttoned up her floral dress with the round neck,
threw a white sweater over her shoulders, and made sure she had enough money in her wallet to pay for the bus ticket downtown. These days she was working as an assistant accountant in a busy office. She had taken up her new job as a challenge after spending almost seven years as a bookkeeper in the secluded confines of San Ignacio church, for fear of being recognized by a police informant. But now she had nothing to be afraid of. The military were no longer in power, and she no longer needed to stay hidden.

She was about to leave, then changed her mind. She fished the lipstick she had just bought out of her bag and went to the mirror to apply it. The result took her aback. She would have to get used to it, she told herself as she shut the door of her apartment.

It was a mild day that felt just like early spring. The women seemed somehow prettier dressed in cooler clothing. A small cluster of people had already gathered at the bus stop. Maria went to the street corner to buy a newspaper and returned to stand in line. The bus was approaching.

“Adriana!” cried a voice behind her.

She turned around automatically. Two schoolgirls were running toward her, shouting to a third girl to get on the bus, which had just pulled up. The girls arrived, out of breath, and pushed their way past the other passengers, jostling each other. Maria was annoyed with herself. After all this time she should have been able to control herself.

The bus was full, but she found an empty seat in the back.
She sat next to the window and gathered up her purse to let an overweight woman with a bag full of groceries sit down next to her. Maria watched unseeingly as the streets unfolded.

If Papá were alive, I'd go back to my
real name
.
But I prefer Maria
. Her face was reflected in the bus window. She had another hour before she would arrive at her destination.
Maria is strong
.
She can
speak out; she's comfortable around men
.
Maria
.
Maria
Cruz
. The woman sitting next to her had dozed off with her mouth open and her bag of groceries jammed between her legs.
He couldn't have found a better
name
.
Maria Cruz
.
It's a name that doesn't
attract attention
.
It's short
.
Practical when you have to forge papers
. She smiled to herself.
But my Jesuit wasn't the most imaginative
.
Maria Cruz
, for heaven's sake!
The bus turned onto a main road and accelerated.

Maria folded her newspaper into quarters so she could read it without bothering her neighbor. There was a short article in it about a forthcoming Sting concert at La Plata Stadium on December 11, 1987. The journalist mentioned the singer's visit to the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo at the square. Maria admired the women. They'd been braver than she had; she hadn't dared to show her face. She leafed through the pages. Thankfully Julia had left Argentina.
I wouldn't have been able to carry on living if anything had happened to her
. She rested the newspaper on her knees. At least she'd stayed, out of solidarity; she would never have gotten over her remorse if she'd left. The bus drove past some tall trees in a park that cast a refreshing shadow. She would have liked to go to the concert. But the
Adriana in her didn't yet feel ready to venture out on her own. The bus emerged from the shade back into the sun.

The woman next to her stood up to get off. Maria let out a sigh of relief. She was happy. She was free; she had a job, a new life. There were things she wanted to do: wear perfume, go to the cinema, eat ice cream. A young girl took the fat woman's place.
I wonder what her
life is like
.
Her son must be eleven years old now
. The sun had become overbearing. It was starting to get hot inside the bus. She fanned herself with the newspaper and the girl next to her looked grateful. They passed the dome of the Church of the Immaculate Conception. Maria was only a couple of minutes away from her stop. She was about to get up and ring the bell when she went white as a sheet.