During his stay in Pasolobino, Kilian sometimes remembered his encounters with Sade, but he had not missed her. Besides, he now felt he did not need her. A new and exhilarating feeling followed him everywhere. He did not care that Bisila was married to someone else or that being with her was impossible. Life had many twists. And he was prepared to wait as long as necessary. Meanwhile, he would not enjoy the company of any other woman. He could not turn Sade into his Regina as Dámaso had done; he could not have a lover for years to then abandon her.
“The best thing to do is to forget me, Sade,” he said. He lit a cigarette and blew out the smoke slowly. “Nothing will make me change my mind.”
“We’ll see about that,” she responded in a threatening tone as she left the room.
The open door framed a starry night. Kilian went out onto the balcony and leaned on the railing.
Below, Sade briskly walked toward a small open-topped SEAT 600 where one of the young waiters from the club was waiting for her. A few steps before reaching the car, she heard a voice.
“Kilian now lets you into his room?” asked Gregorio as he came over to her. “He must have really missed you.”
“There’s nobody here that interests me,” she responded haughtily.
Gregorio stroked his small mustache as he let his eyes wander over the woman’s body.
Sade tolerated his scrutiny as an idea crossed her mind. She raised her eyes toward the bedroom balcony and saw that Kilian was still watching.
“And you?” she asked in a forced honeyed tone. “Have you not gotten bored with Regina? I can’t believe she tends to all your needs.”
Gregorio arched his eyebrow. “And you could?”
Sade bit her bottom lip. “Come visit me, and we’ll see.”
Gustavo stayed in the hospital for several weeks. It was not until after Christmas that his wounds healed completely.
At the beginning of the new year, and after ten years of total opposition to independence, the Spanish administration surprisingly initiated some actions to promote it. With the intention of treating the Guineans as Spanish and avoiding discriminatory attitudes, the emancipation law that went back to the 1940s was repealed, which meant that, after complying with a series of requirements before the Council for Indigenous People—such as having reached the age of majority, holding some academic certificate, or working for a colonist—the blacks now had the same rights to purchase the same products as the whites, provided the emancipated person had the necessary means.
To the astonishment of Emilio and Generosa, Gustavo was elected to one of the Neighbor Councils of Santa Isabel, one of the 188 seats created in the whole country. Men like him and his brother Dimas began to lead lives similar to that of the Spaniards. They moved into small houses with gardens in front, where they parked their small cars every afternoon after work, and collected their children from school.
“And not only that, Julia,” protested Emilio as he bounced Ismael on his knee. “On top of that, they speak to me arrogantly. If their father could see them! Ah! The old Dimas really was a good man.”
“Of course . . . ,” said his daughter. “He never contradicted you.”
“Then each person knew their place, Daughter,” intervened Generosa as she cleared the plates from the table. “Not like now. With this obsession they now have of getting rid of our sensible laws, soon they’ll allow marriages between whites and blacks, just wait and see.”
“I don’t see why you find it strange.” Julia shrugged. “France and England have opened the way to emancipate their Equatorial and Western African territories. Why would Spain be any different?”
“Because, child, thanks be to God, we have a caudillo who has known how to maintain order for a long time both here and in Spain.” She sighed loudly. “If he had the same energy as before, I can assure you he wouldn’t let himself be dragged along in this.”
“Times change, Mom.”
“Yes, but I don’t know if it’s for the better, Julia,” added Emilio. He looked at his watch, got up, and set the child on a rug with several cardboard horses. “Anyway, give our good-byes to Manuel. It was unfortunate he had to leave.”
“We’ve had a lot of accidents. The laborers have been fighting. That’s what politics does to people.”
Generosa bent down to kiss her grandson before saying good-bye to her daughter. Julia followed them outside.
“Don’t you have to take Oba with you?”
“That girl!” Emilio rolled his eyes. “Since she has fallen in love with that big ox, the only thing she cares about is going to Sampaka. Lately, she’s been very absentminded in the store, forgetting customer orders . . . If she doesn’t change, we’ll have to look for someone else.”
“Yes, as if it was a good time to train another . . . ,” commented Generosa, fluffing out her hair with her hands.
Just then, Oba appeared with sparkling eyes and swollen lips.
“A little longer and you’d have walked back,” Emilio scoffed.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Come on, get into the car.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I need to speak to the mistress for a moment.” She looked at Julia with imploring eyes.
Julia noticed her father’s annoyed look and promised him she would not take long.
Once inside the house, Julia asked her, “What’s so important?”
“It’s to do with . . .” Oba rubbed her hands nervously. “It’s my friend Sade. A few days ago, she admitted to me she was pregnant . . .”
“And . . . ?”
“Well, the father is one of the employees of this plantation, and when he found out, he did not want anything more to do with her. My friend is very sad and worried, and I thought that, well, since you know him, you might be able to help with the situation and—”
“Who is it?” Julia cut her off.
“Massa Kilian.”
“But . . .” Julia sat down and rubbed her forehead, surprised.
“They’ve been friends for a long time.”
“Well . . . I thought that”—Julia tried to be as polite as possible—“that your friend had many friends.”
“Yes, but she’s sure that he’s the father. She’s very upset, Mistress. I know how much she loved the massa and how worried she is now that he has abandoned her.”
“Oba!” Emilio’s voice came from outside. “We’re going now!”
Julia stood up, grabbed hold of Oba’s elbow, and went with her to the door while whispering in her ear, “Not a word to anyone. To anyone, you hear?”
Oba nodded.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
When everyone had left, Julia picked up Ismael and hugged him as hard as she could. And what laws exist for these cases? she thought. None. It was the word of a black woman of doubtful reputation against that of a white man. Sade’s word against Kilian’s. A fine pickle. Was it that difficult to take steps to stop this from happening? She found it difficult to believe what Oba had told her, but she found it even more difficult to consider the possibility, if it was true, that Kilian had opted for the most cowardly option. The truth was that he would not be the first or the last to do so. You only had to take a trip around the streets of Santa Isabel to get some idea. And what could she do? At most, talk to Kilian and hope that it was all a lie.
Manuel came into the sitting room, looking tired, and fell onto the sofa beside his wife and child.
“A little free time at last.” He bent down and kissed Ismael on the head, and Ismael put out his arms for Manuel to lift him up. He noticed that Julia seemed a little distracted. “Are you okay?”