All afternoon and well into the night, couples get in their cars and drive to the Palermo forest to do whatever it is couples do in their cars. This custom, so deeply ingrained in the inhabitants of Buenos Aires, has led to the area being called Villa Carino — Tenderness Town. The local cops, paid off by the proprietors of the nearby bars, mind their own business. This is where Miranda the Mole has chosen to meet his wife, because this is where they used to come when they were first dating. Here he brought her proudly in his first stolen car. Here they made love for the first time.
Sitting in his one-hundred-per-cent-legal car, he listens to a cassette of Frank Sinatra while he waits for her. She must have taken the long way around, to shake off any possible tails. He trained her well. Yes, that must be why she’s late. He keeps looking in the rearview and side mirrors. He catches glimpses of what’s going on in the other cars: couples are drinking, kissing, fondling each other; here and there someone still needs convincing of what she’ll end up doing anyway; a blonde ducks, disappearing from sight. The glories of Villa Carino. A taxi stops on the corner. It’s her. He watches her pay, get her change, get out of the taxi and look around for a sign. Miranda switches his headlights on and off and she walks toward him. Her hips sways back and forth, silhouetted against the red brick wall. He watches as she approaches with quick steps, then she gets in the car, closes the door and without looking at him, drops her head. She’s crying.
What’s wrong, my Duchess? I can’t do it any more, Eduardo, I can’t. That’s what’s going on. But, why, Duchess? You want to know why? Of course I do, my love. I’m going to tell you why, but please, let me talk. Don’t interrupt me. Speak, tell me whatever you want. Okay.
Susana looks down, takes a handkerchief out of her purse and wipes her nose. She takes a deep breath. Miranda leans back against the door so he can see her better, then places his arm over the steering wheel.
You stood me up the other night at the pizzeria. I had a problem, I couldn’t make it. I told you not to interrupt me!
Duchess is speaking in a whisper, but it sounds like she’s shouting. Miranda bites his lips.
I’m worried to death. What are you worried about, Duchess? Everything, I’m worried about everything! Ever since you got out, I’ve been living in a state of panic. A few days ago there was a big commotion right outside the house, cops and television cameras. I went out to see what was going on. I thought you had come and they were there waiting for you. But it was something else. So, what about it? There was someone at the door, Lascano. Lascano? Yeah. He told me he’d arranged all that to stop them from kidnapping us to get the money you stole. Who was going to kidnap you? I don’t know, some cops. Lascano mentioned someone by the name of Flores. He told us we should leave the house because he said they’d definitely be back.
Susana is twisting the handkerchief in her hands, and a stifled groan escapes her lips. Miranda watches her, trying to muster his courage. She shoots him a look full of resentment.
I can’t even be in my own house any more! Where are you living? At my uncle’s. And Fernando? Fernando, too, I wouldn’t abandon my son!
Susana lets this reproach rip like the lash of a whip. Miranda receives it like the stab of a knife in his gut.
Calm down, Duchess, please. I don’t want to calm down! I’m furious and I want to be furious, don’t you understand? But that’s not the end of it. The other morning, when I went out shopping, I saw it. What? On the front page of the newspaper, at the stand on the corner. A full-page picture of three people lying in a pool of blood, and next to it was a picture of you and three other guys. I felt this blast of rage and sadness tearing through my chest… Carlos, the newspaper man, who’s been there ever since I was so big, he was watching me, spying on me, waiting to see my reaction. All I could do was stand there, paralysed, staring at the picture, wondering if it was you lying dead on the front page? I didn’t dare go and find out. Had my worst fears come true? Then Carlos, as if he knew what I was thinking, said it wasn’t you, that you’d escaped. Those words broke the spell. It was as if they woke me up. I looked at Carlos and I realized how he’d aged, and seeing him I realized that I had too. He looked at me sadly, with compassion, as if to say “What can we do?” It tore at my heart. I refused the paper he offered me. I didn’t want to know any details… All day every day we make little decisions, one after the other, we think that at some point it’s all going to come together, start to make some kind of sense. But these decisions keep piling up, that’s what our lives are made of, they make us who we are and determine what’s going to happen to us. In the end, we are what happens to us. And what’s happening to me is that I just want to go home and cry. And that’s what I do. I throw myself face down on the bed and curse my fate, and I cry, first with rage, howling furiously like a wild animal. Then comes the pain and the sadness. The house is quiet, and I keep asking myself why the hell I married you, why the hell do I keep waiting for you? Why? Then I realize that this time you weren’t the dead body on the first page of the newspaper. Not this time. I realize that maybe that’s what I’m waiting for, that it be you, and I don’t want to feel that, Eduardo. But that’s what I’ve become: a widow waiting for them to bring me the corpse, for my fate to finally play itself out, and all I want is for it to end, once and for all. And I don’t want that, Eduardo, not that. Forgive me, but I can’t do it any more. I want to make a new life for myself and I can’t wait any longer. Now again they’re hunting you down, and as usual they’ll find you and, if you’re lucky, you’ll go to prison. For how long this time? Five years, ten years, life? I’ve never loved… I will never love anybody like I’ve loved you, but I think I’ve earned the possibility of a tiny little piece of happiness in this life, and that’s what I want, Eduardo. And with you that won’t be possible. But, Duchess, you can’t leave me now. I’m not leaving you, Eduardo, you left me a long time ago and you didn’t even realize it.
A heavy, marital silence descends, now denser, more unbending, irremediable. He looks at her, she looks back at him and for the first time understands how different they are in every way. She has the sensation that they are no longer a man and a woman of the same species, that they never really were, they were only ever joined in some kind of unnatural symbiosis. Whatever it was that kept them together has shattered in a way that is beyond repair. They are two strangers stranded in this field of lovers. We are of the material world, she thinks, and the material world exacts its revenge. Just like when a job is shoddily done, without mindfulness or respect. A thing poorly done remains like a curse, always there to remind us of our faulty workmanship.
When Susana gets out of the car, Miranda turns off Sinatra. He feels like crying, like breaking something. He has the worst of all sensations: impotence. She’s right, there’s nothing he can do to make things right, to fix what he set out to destroy. She has always been loyal and faithful, and he always knew he was ruining her life, but over and over again he figured he’d pull one final job that would lift him above the fray, and then they’d be able to go to another country and live the lives of kings, and never worry about anything ever again. But that goal was as phony as a three-dollar bill. Because what Miranda really likes is to take risks. All that crap about going straight once and for all is just a ploy to justify himself. Now the time has come to pay off his debt to Duchess. He feels like his heart is crumbling inside his chest. He doesn’t make the least effort to hold her back, to try to convince her, to seduce her as he has a thousand times. He stays in the car until he gets so cold he has to drive. Two days after Duchess’s goodbye, Miranda parks his car in front of her uncle’s house. He doesn’t have to wait long before he sees his son cross the street with a hurried step. He rolls down the window and calls out to him. The young man stops and, surprised and baffled, looks at the man in the car.
Papa?… Hey, son. Get in.
Which he does. He sits down in the passenger seat, throws his backpack in the back seat and stares straight ahead of him, in silence. At that moment he feels like he hates his father.
When did you get out? A few days ago. And you’re already in trouble again. It’s my style, what can I do? How is it possible that somebody of your intelligence simply doesn’t get it? What should I get? Something you yourself told me when I was still a little kid. What did I tell you?… That if your main investment is your body, you’re not in the right business. We say all kinds of crap… It’s not funny. What isn’t funny? You’re not the only one in danger. The other day they tried to kidnap us. Mama told me. Yeah, she spent the whole day crying. One of the cops gave us a message to give to you. Who? Lascano. He said you should turn yourself in to him, that you’d be safer. Thanks. Leave it to me, I’ll work it all out. You’d better. I want to talk, I’ve got something very important to tell you. I can’t now. You in a hurry? Yeah, I am, in fact. Can we meet for lunch? When? Whenever you want. Tomorrow?… Where? Remember that place we used to go when I’d pick you up from school? On Luca Street? That’s the one.
Fernando grabs his backpack, gets out of the car without saying goodbye and walks away. It doesn’t take Miranda long to get Flores’s phone number.
Flores, Miranda here… Why the hell are you fucking with my son?… You’re a family man, you sonofabitch… I don’t give a fuck… Okay… What do you want?… Not a cent… no more than a hundred grand… I said no… Are you nuts? With that money I can blow you and your entire family away. Take the hundred and stop busting my balls… I’m telling you, no, Flores… and don’t make me lose my patience… Okay… Good… I’ll take care of it… I know, Flores, it won’t be the first time… Friday at the latest… No… No…