23
When they reached the house,Inés couldn’t help herself and rushed to the gate. The car was gone. She stood there, staring at the spot where it was normally parked, until her aunt turned the key and pulled the gate open.
They walked inside. The house seemed unnaturally quiet. Everyone was out on a Sunday, but the silence was thicker, as if the building recognized his departure. Though she could not be sure he had really left. He might have been bluffing. He might have changed his mind and decided that he’d take pictures, as he said. She couldn’t be sure unless she checked his room.
Her aunt removed her gloves and handed them to Inés. “I’ll be in my room. I’d like you to bring me a glass of sherry.”
“Isn’t it a bit early for sherry?”
“Bring it.”
Perla headed up the stairs and Inés wandered into the kitchen. She found the bottle and a glass, poured the contents into it, and then looked for the serving tray. When she walked by Ulises’s door, she saw it was open a crack, and she nudged it with her foot and slipped inside.
His luggage was gone. She put the tray aside and sat on the unmade bed, letting his absence wash over her body. Something wild and wicked had grown between them, thrilling her. It had changed the colors of the house, making them brighter and bolder, giving life to a world that was tinged with decay.
A mysterious alchemy had turned them intrepid when they were together; it had sharpened dreams and desires where before they had been out-of-focus images in her mind.
Now he was gone.
She jumped to her feet, grabbed the tray, and went to her aunt’s room. Perla was sitting at her desk, with the imposing portrait of Don Osorio Inclán above it. Inés placed the tray down.
“Do you need anything else, Aunt Perla?” she asked tiredly, wishing to retire to her room.
Perla stretched out a hand and took the glass, giving it a sip. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
Her aunt was peering at a piece of paper. Finally, she gave her drink another sip, set it down upon the desk, and turned around to look at her.
“I always told you that if you were patient and obeyed our family’s rules, you’d be rewarded one day. And I thought that despite your many shortcomings, you had a modicum of common sense.”
“Have I done something wrong, aunt?”
“You’ve done plenty.”
Their eyes met.
She knows,Inés thought. The tension in Perla’s lips, the look on herface, they told a story. She felt terror, and her instinct was to immediately deny any wrongdoing. But she did not speak. Inés was silent, clamping her mouth shut.
“The boxes Fito brought had important papers. There was also a letter, addressed to me. Can you guess what the letter said?”
Inés did not reply. There was no point, and anyway her aunt did not give her time to open her mouth; immediately she held the letter up and began to read from it. “ ‘In conclusion, it is my opinion that your husband is not who he says he is. That he is a fraudster who is determined to steal your money, and that he has arranged to achieve this feat with the assistance of your niece. They are in a relationship, as I’ve witnessed with my own eyes. Your eternal friend, Cándido.’ ”
Perla folded the piece of paper and placed it gingerly upon the desk.
“I have raised you, and this is how you repay me? I have given you food, shelter, clothing, everything you ever wanted. You ungrateful, dirty girl.”
“Everything?” Inés scoffed, her tongue loosening. “You gave me as little as you could. As little love, and as little attention, and as little respect—”
“You were a stain on our name. A bastard girl, and still I took you in.”
“Only to remind me every single day of my life about that shame, yes. How mortified you felt by my existence. And you hid things from me constantly. My father’s letters, for example,” she said, pointing at the desk behind Perla.
Perla laughed dryly. “I should have known you were riffling through my things.”
“You had no right to keep them from me. Locked up in there, like a sick trophy of yours.”
“Your father was a cad. I kept you safe from his bad influence. Not that I could prevent you from going down a dark path anyway.”
“You must be pleased about my path, Aunt Perla. You always wanted me to be a bad seed, didn’t you? You and Grandfather andGrandmother, you couldn’t imagine anything else for me. I had to be bad and dirty. You got your wish. I am bad. You used me, and you shamed me. Constantly. When you kicked Salvador out, you wouldn’t let me go with him, but you told everyone who would listen that I was a whore. Here I am, Aunt Perla: your niece, the whore, and your precious husband is nothing but a lowly thief.