The She-Devil in the Mirror Read Online Free Page A

someone else, she’s
going to come to me with a ton of objections, unless, that is, he’s got more
money than Alberto. Olga María didn’t believe it either when I told her I was
divorcing Alberto; I told her I couldn’t stand him anymore, I’d rather go back
and live with my parents than be so unbearably bored any longer. She told me not
to leave him—our problem was we didn’t have any children. Can you imagine? I
wasn’t about to have kids with somebody like that. Pure madness. No, I don’t
think my father will come: he’s at the finca dealing with no end of problems.
Now that I see what he has on his plate, I’m convinced Doña Olga did the right
thing to sell the fincas Don Sergio left her. Owning coffee plantations isn’t
what it used to be, there’s one setback after another these days, first the
communists taking them over and not allowing the harvest, and now the drop in
prices. It never ends, my dear. That’s why Doña Olga was right to get rid of
them, it was for the best. My father should do the same, and I’ve told him so,
but he’s pigheaded, very attached to his land. Hey, look who just arrived. I
can’t believe it, it’s José Carlos, that crazy photographer, I thought he’d
already left the country, what a surprise. He was working at Marito’s agency
until a few weeks ago. He takes beautiful photographs, a real artist; he studied
in Boston, then stayed there for a few years and took photos of famous artists,
of afternoons on the beach and in forests, of old buildings. He published a book
of his photographs: Olga María showed it to me, inscribed with a poem José
Carlos wrote to her. He’ll be going back to Boston in a few days. He could only
stand this country for a year. He says he’s bored here. Just look at him, all
scrawny and awkward looking, but still, there’s something attractive about him.
Olga María went out with him, for only a few weeks, but enough to get to know
him. It was sort of the same story: Marito and José Carlos went to grammar
school and high school together at the San José Externado, best friends growing
up, until the war, then they each took a different path, but as soon as José
Carlos decided to return, Marito offered him a job at the agency, and they
became thick as thieves again. So José Carlos started coming over to their house
a lot, whenever he felt like it, and he got to be better friends with Olga
María, it was only to be expected—she was the wife of his best friend and they
already knew each other, though not too well, from school. For Olga María it was
a revelation of sorts. José Carlos is so laid-back, nutty, he’s got all kinds of
exotic ideas, even sort of half-communist ideas sometimes. At first, she wasn’t
attracted to him physically, but little by little she realized how amazing the
guy was, he knew about so many things, one of those super-sensitive artist
types, he’s traveled all over the world, been part of the artistic
milieu
in the States. That’s what Olga María told me. There it was
again, that gleam in her eyes I was telling you about, that same gleam I saw
when we were at the American School, that she got whenever she’d start to get
interested in a classmate, the same gleam I saw with that Julio Iglesias. I
couldn’t quite fathom that my best friend could be interested in such a
bizarre-looking guy. You wouldn’t have believed it, either, would you? Look at
him over there: in blue jeans and a sports shirt at a wake, no jacket, only he
would dress like that. I’ll introduce him to you a little later so you can see
that he’s a little off his rocker. I admit he could be interesting as a
friend—it’s always like that with artists—but not to fall in love with. It was
just like what happened with Julio Iglesias, there came a moment when Olga María
decided to visit José