Needle in a Haystack by Ernesto Mallo Page B

nightmare the country has become, about which she wishes to think no more, and also just because. She wants to head far away and imagines herself on a beach with her daughter enjoying the sunset, loving her little girl and somehow being able to explain to her that she’ll not have to go through what her mother went through. And what if it’s a boy? Things become complicated because Eva can’t picture herself with a boy. How do you talk to a little man? About what? And so for the purpose of her dreams she decides it’ll be a girl, and if it turns out to be a boy then so be it .
    The house fills up with the smell of cooking. Eva feels like it’s a Sunday and she realizes she’s longing for
Lascano to arrive home, that actually he’s usually home by now. The feeling that something has happened prods her in the chest, but at that very moment he opens the door.
    Don’t look. I’ve got a surprise for you. What is it? If I tell you what it is, it won’t be a surprise. Close your eyes and give me your hand. Come on, girl, stop with your silliness. I’m not being silly, I’ve been busy all afternoon. Well, let’s see. You can open them now. Well, what have we here? I made it all by myself. OK, wow, let’s try it out then.
    With the precision of a surgeon, Perro carves through the roast beef, which steams on the plate, lying on its bed of vegetables. He cuts himself the perfect slice that includes part of the vegetables, red meat from the middle and a fine crispy crust, and pops it in his mouth. The girl certainly chose a good cut. Oh, glorious Argentinean beef! The perfect consistency; not as tender and yielding as sirloin so you have to work it a little, crush it with your molars so that it releases its juices onto your tongue, with the subtle fragrance of garlic and parsley. The hearty fare slips down his throat and comforts his soul. At meal times he reverts to being a little boy home from school. Lascano pours some wine. Eva patiently awaits his verdict.
    Aren’t you having some? It’s turned out perfect. You like it? It’s delicious.
    Lascano’s gaze wanders from the meat to the spuds to the glass to Eva’s eyes, to her mouth and he smiles sincerely.
    Honestly, you’ve excelled. You clearly know how to handle a piece of meat.
    His insinuation slips out without warning.
    Speaking of meat, the best part’s still to come. Oh yes, what’s that then? Dessert. Did you make dessert too? The idea is we
make it together. With what ingredients? Mystery, silence, the wind and the rain. And does this dessert have a name? It’s French, it’s called petite mort . I didn’t know you spoke French. There are lots of things you don’t know about me. That’s true. Well, aren’t you curious? A little… When are you going to realize I’m dying for you to make a move on me? Girl, I prefer you being alive. Are you going to play the fool for much longer? For as long as I can. And why, might I ask? Forgive me, but I’m not suited to all these things any more. All what things? These romantic things, dinner, looks, insinuations. Everyone’s suited to these things. Those who aren’t, are dead already, just nobody told them. You’re probably right. You’re scared. I know how the story ends. Oh really. So tell me, if you already know, how does it end? With one or both of us suffering. And so? Maybe you like suffering, I don’t. Well, if that’s your attitude, why don’t you just kill yourself? What’s that got to do with anything? You’re going to die one day, you know. We’re all going to die one day. Not loving for fear of suffering is like not living for fear of dying. The young lady is a philosopher? Sir is a coward? Don’t be like that. And how else do you expect me to be? Do you think I don’t notice the way you look at me? You silly old fool, you’ve got desire written all over your face. You said the word: old. I’m too old for you. It’s true I like you, you’re really very lovely, but I’m not fit for