The Schooldays of Jesus by J. M. Coetzee Page B

will come home again.’
    â€˜Parents always feel heartsore when their young flee the nest,’ says Dmitri. ‘It’s natural. You have a soft heart, I can see that. Ihave a soft heart too, despite the rough exterior. No need to be ashamed. It is our nature, yours and mine. It is how we were born. We are softies.’ He grins. ‘Not like that Inés of yours. Un corazón de cuero .’
    â€˜You have no idea what you are talking about,’ he says stiffly. ‘There has never been a more devoted mother than Inés.’
    â€˜ Un corazón de cuero ,’ repeats Dmitri. ‘A heart of leather. If you don’t believe me, wait and see.’
    He stretches out the day’s bicycle round for as long as he can, pedalling slowly, dawdling on street corners. The evening yawns before him like a desert. He finds a bar and orders a vino de paja , the rough wine he acquired a taste for on the farm. By the time he leaves he is feeling pleasantly befuddled. But before long the oppressive gloom returns. I must find something to do! he tells himself. One cannot live like this, killing time!
    Un corazón de cuero . If anyone is hard of heart it is David, not Inés. Of Inés’s love for the child, and his own, there can be no doubt. But is it good for the child that, out of love, they give in so easily to his wishes? Maybe in the institutions of society there resides a blind wisdom. Maybe, instead of treating the boy like a little prince, they should return him to the public schools and let his teachers tame him, turn him into a social animal.
    His head aching, he returns to the apartment, shuts himself in his room, and falls asleep. When he wakes it is evening and Inés is home.
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ he says, ‘I was exhausted, I haven’t made supper.’
    â€˜I have already eaten,’ says Inés.

CHAPTER 9
    IN THE weeks that follow, the fragility of their domestic set-up becomes more and more apparent. Simply put, with the child gone there is no reason why Inés and he should be living together. They have nothing to say to each other; they have next to nothing in common. Inés fills in the silences with chatter about Modas Modernas to which he barely listens. When he is not on his bicycle rounds he keeps to his room, reading the newspaper or dozing. He does not shop, does not cook. Inés begins staying out late, he presumes with Claudia, though she offers no information. Only during the boy’s weekend visits is there any semblance of family life.
    Then one Friday, when he arrives at the Academy to pick up the boy, he finds the doors locked. After a long hunt he tracks down Dmitri in the museum.
    â€˜Where is David?’ he demands. ‘Where are the children? Where are the Arroyos?’
    â€˜They have gone swimming,’ says Dmitri. ‘Didn’t they tell you? They have gone on a trip to Lake Calderón. It’s a treat for the boarders, now that the weather is warming up. I would haveliked to go too, but alas, I have my duties.’
    â€˜When will they be back?’
    â€˜If the weather stays fine, on Sunday afternoon.’
    â€˜Sunday!’
    â€˜Sunday. Don’t worry. Your boy will have a wonderful time.’
    â€˜But he can’t swim!’
    â€˜Lake Calderón is the most placid sheet of water in all the wide world. No one has ever drowned there.’
    This is the news with which Inés is greeted when she comes home: that the boy has gone off to Lake Calderón on an outing, that they will not see him this weekend.
    â€˜And where is Lake Calderón?’ she demands.
    â€˜Two hours’ drive to the north. According to Dmitri, Lake Calderón is an educational experience not to be missed. The children are taken out in boats with glass bottoms to see the underwater life.’
    â€˜Dmitri. So now Dmitri is an expert on education.’
    â€˜We can drive to Lake Calderón first thing in the