The Informers by Juan Gabriel Vásquez

middle of the spectacle of his remodeled words, in the middle of these sung phrases whose meaning I would find out later, my father spoke to Sara and me about Angelina, about how he'd got to know her better in these months--it was logical, after seeing her every day for so long and benefiting from her massages--how he'd gone on seeing her after the therapy was finished and his health restored. That's what he told us. My father the survivor. My father, with the capacity to reinvent himself.
    "I'm sleeping with her. We've been seeing each other for two months."
    "How old is she?" asked Sara.
    "Forty-four. Forty-five. I don't remember. She told me, but I don't remember."
    "And she hasn't got anyone, right?"
    "How do you know she hasn't got anyone?"
    "Because if she did, someone would be throwing it in her face. That sleeping with old men is against the rules. The age difference. Whatever. She must have a good story."
    "Oh, here we go," said my father. "There's no story."
    "Of course there is--don't give me that. First of all, she's got no one to protest. Second, you get evasive when I ask you. This woman has a hell of a story. Has she suffered a lot?"
    "Well, yes. You've got the makings of a great inquisitor, Sara Guterman. Yes, she's had a shitty life, poor thing. She lost her parents in the bombing of Los Tres Elefantes."
    "That recently?"
    "That recently."
    "Did they live here?"
    "No. They'd come from Medellin to visit her. They got to say hello, and then they went out to buy some nylon stockings. Her mum needed some nylon stockings. Los Tres Elefantes was the closest place. We passed by there in a taxi not long ago. I can't remember where we were going, but when we got there Angelina's hands were numb and her mouth dry. And that evening she was a bit feverish. It still hits her that hard. Her brother lives on the coast. They don't speak to each other."
    "And when did she tell you all this?" I asked.
    "I'm old, Gabriel. Old-fashioned. I like to talk after sex."
    "All right, all right, a little decorum, if you don't mind," said Sara. "I haven't gone anywhere, I'm still right here, or have I become invisible?"
    I patted my father on the knee, and his tone changed: he put aside the irony, he became docile. "I didn't know what you'd think," he said. "Do you realize?"
    "What?"
    "It's the first time I've ever spoken to you about anything like this," he said, "and it's to tell you what I'm telling you."
    "And without giving the rest of us time to cover our ears," said Sara. And then she asked, "Has she stayed over at your house?"
    "Never. And don't think I haven't suggested it. She's very independent, doesn't like sleeping in other people's beds. That's fine with me, not that I need to tell you. But now she's taken it into her head to invite me to Medellin."
    "When?"
    "Now. Well, to spend the holidays. We're going next weekend and coming back the second or third of January. That's if she gets the time off, of course. They exploit her like a beast, I swear. It's the last week of the year, and she has to fight tooth and nail."
    He thought for a second.
    "I'm going to Medellin with her," he said then. "To spend Christmas and New Year with her. I'm going with her. Damn, it does sound very odd."
    "Odd, no, it sounds ridiculous," said Sara. "But what can you do? All adolescents are ridiculous."
    "There is one little thing," my father said to me. "We need your car. Or rather, we don't need it, but I said to Angelina that it's silly to take a bus when you can lend us your car. If you can, that is. If you're not going to need it, if it's not a problem."
    I told him I wasn't going to need it, although it was a lie; I told him it was no problem, partly because his whole being, his voice and his manner, was speaking to me with an unprecedented affection, as if he were asking a special favor of a special friend.
    "Take the car and don't worry," I said. "Go to Medellin, have a good time, say hi to Angelina for me."
    "Are you sure?"
    "I'll stay