Inés Viñas. And they’re
going to splash around up there too? Elisa looked up at the ceiling, bewildered
for a moment, until she remembered the swimming pool. How do you like that, she
remarked, a pool on the rooftop terrace! I couldn’t believe it, until I saw it with my own
eyes, or rather till I saw they were building it. It’s just incredible, said
Inés. Isn’t it? said Patri, who was taking a very small part in the
conversation. Some things are unbelievable, said the visitor, but when you see
them with your own eyes, you have to bow to the evidence. Yes, said Patri.
As they visited the apartments methodically, from one end to the
other, the question of evidence led to two topics that were, not unreasonably,
dear to their hearts: medicine and marriage. Inés Viñas swore by homeopathy and
warmly recommended it at every opportunity. She saw her little old homeopath as
a kind of shaman whose precise and parsimonious doses could cure anything. Her
sister-in-law Elisa, while not a supporter of allopathy (it
didn’t deserve supporters, she admitted, since it was just a business) favored
conventional medicine, because she had a problem with belief. There are people
who just can’t believe, she said, and I’m one of them. But you could make an
effort! said Inés. If it was only a matter of making an effort, I would have
done it already, if only to please you, replied Elisa. Well don’t make an effort, then, just
believe! Elisa: The thing is, you have to make an effort. And not believing is simply not being able
to do that. Elisa dear, I really can’t follow you, although I’m trying, I swear.
Come on, what if you gave it a go? This whole conversation was abstract, in a
manner of speaking, because neither of them was ill or thought she was. Which
probably explains why they could reason about it. Look, Inés, homeopathy, or any
other kind of magical medicine, only works for those who believe. That’s where
you’re wrong, Elisa! Lots of people who didn’t believe have been cured. Is that
so? But didn’t they believe afterward? Of course, why wouldn’t they? That’s what
I mean: you have to believe, either before or after. But it’s not the same
thing! It doesn’t matter: I’d only be convinced by someone who didn’t believe at
all, someone who had been cured, and went on not believing. But that’s
impossible! Exactly, you see what I mean?
While talking about medicine they were also talking about marriage. If
there was any disagreement on that topic, it was subtler. Because all women, or
nearly (all the ones they knew, anyway) got married, sooner or later. It was a
kind of universal homeopathy, which sent belief leaping wildly, all over the
place, with nothing to guide it. Patri, whose part in the conversation was
limited to an odd monosyllable or chuckle, was listening carefully. Inés Viñas
sensed this attention, and looked thoughtfully at the girl.
When they had seen enough of that layered, multi-family
mansion, and there was nothing left to criticize in their
good-natured, skeptical way, they started going back upstairs, without
so much as a moment’s pause in their chatter. Which, come to think of it, was,
in itself, something to be marveled at, a challenge to belief: how is it that
conversation topics keep coming up, one after another, inexhaustibly, as if they
weren’t tied to objects, which are finite, as if they were pure form? It went to
show that life had hidden recesses. When they reached the top of the building,
the heat, which had not eased off in spite of the late hour, reminded the
hostess of something they still hadn’t bought, because they were leaving it till
the last minute: ice. She asked Patri if she would do her a favor and fetch it.
Patri went to get the bag, and her mother told her to take some money from her
purse. Patri was thinking: Where does all the money come from? We’re always
spending it, but there’s always some left. Her mother had a reputation in the
family as a
going to splash around up there too? Elisa looked up at the ceiling, bewildered
for a moment, until she remembered the swimming pool. How do you like that, she
remarked, a pool on the rooftop terrace! I couldn’t believe it, until I saw it with my own
eyes, or rather till I saw they were building it. It’s just incredible, said
Inés. Isn’t it? said Patri, who was taking a very small part in the
conversation. Some things are unbelievable, said the visitor, but when you see
them with your own eyes, you have to bow to the evidence. Yes, said Patri.
As they visited the apartments methodically, from one end to the
other, the question of evidence led to two topics that were, not unreasonably,
dear to their hearts: medicine and marriage. Inés Viñas swore by homeopathy and
warmly recommended it at every opportunity. She saw her little old homeopath as
a kind of shaman whose precise and parsimonious doses could cure anything. Her
sister-in-law Elisa, while not a supporter of allopathy (it
didn’t deserve supporters, she admitted, since it was just a business) favored
conventional medicine, because she had a problem with belief. There are people
who just can’t believe, she said, and I’m one of them. But you could make an
effort! said Inés. If it was only a matter of making an effort, I would have
done it already, if only to please you, replied Elisa. Well don’t make an effort, then, just
believe! Elisa: The thing is, you have to make an effort. And not believing is simply not being able
to do that. Elisa dear, I really can’t follow you, although I’m trying, I swear.
Come on, what if you gave it a go? This whole conversation was abstract, in a
manner of speaking, because neither of them was ill or thought she was. Which
probably explains why they could reason about it. Look, Inés, homeopathy, or any
other kind of magical medicine, only works for those who believe. That’s where
you’re wrong, Elisa! Lots of people who didn’t believe have been cured. Is that
so? But didn’t they believe afterward? Of course, why wouldn’t they? That’s what
I mean: you have to believe, either before or after. But it’s not the same
thing! It doesn’t matter: I’d only be convinced by someone who didn’t believe at
all, someone who had been cured, and went on not believing. But that’s
impossible! Exactly, you see what I mean?
While talking about medicine they were also talking about marriage. If
there was any disagreement on that topic, it was subtler. Because all women, or
nearly (all the ones they knew, anyway) got married, sooner or later. It was a
kind of universal homeopathy, which sent belief leaping wildly, all over the
place, with nothing to guide it. Patri, whose part in the conversation was
limited to an odd monosyllable or chuckle, was listening carefully. Inés Viñas
sensed this attention, and looked thoughtfully at the girl.
When they had seen enough of that layered, multi-family
mansion, and there was nothing left to criticize in their
good-natured, skeptical way, they started going back upstairs, without
so much as a moment’s pause in their chatter. Which, come to think of it, was,
in itself, something to be marveled at, a challenge to belief: how is it that
conversation topics keep coming up, one after another, inexhaustibly, as if they
weren’t tied to objects, which are finite, as if they were pure form? It went to
show that life had hidden recesses. When they reached the top of the building,
the heat, which had not eased off in spite of the late hour, reminded the
hostess of something they still hadn’t bought, because they were leaving it till
the last minute: ice. She asked Patri if she would do her a favor and fetch it.
Patri went to get the bag, and her mother told her to take some money from her
purse. Patri was thinking: Where does all the money come from? We’re always
spending it, but there’s always some left. Her mother had a reputation in the
family as a
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