The four fell quiet.
After a while, Simón broke the silence. “Massa Kilian, don’t get annoyed, right?” Kilian raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Sometimes it seems to me that you’re against us getting our freedom . . .”
Kilian meditated on Simón’s words. “I’m not saying that I don’t want you to get independence,” he said finally. “It’s just that I don’t want to leave, Simón.”
The noise of chairs being violently dragged along the floor interrupted them. They turned their attention to the whites. The bright-eyed young man was standing beside the bar with a drink in one of his hands and the other extended to signal to his friends not to move. The man apologized to another patron standing in front of him in an aggressive manner.
“I’ve said I was sorry.”
“I’m sure you don’t blow cigarette smoke in the faces of your white friends,” responded the other drunkenly. “Does it upset you that we now come to your bars?”
“What upsets me is that you don’t know how to accept an apology,” said the young man, keeping his calm. He quietly walked back to his table.
The man at the bar paid for his drink and made to leave but, before doing so, announced, “Not one of you will leave here alive. We’ll slit your throats. All of you.”
An unpleasant silence followed, broken by Manuel whispering, “You’ll see, Kilian. Julia doesn’t pay me any attention either, but in the end, we’ll have to hightail it. All of us.” He shot a look of certainty at him. “Even you.”
“Are you sure that this is for the best?” Julia asked, her eyes filled with tears. “Dad, Mom . . . we still have time to change our minds.”
Generosa tidied her hair in front of the mirror on the sideboard in the dining room, beside the elephant tusk. The reflection was very different from that of decades ago, when Emilio and she founded the store and set up house on the floor above. She remembered the tears she had shed leaving her only child with her grandparents until they could give her the kind of life they wished for, and the many happy moments the three of them had had in Santa Isabel. The years had flown by, removing the shine from her dark hair and adding deep lines around her eyes. She sighed.
“Now at least we can leave with something, not much, but more than what we would have when they kick us out.”
“But . . . ,” Julia protested, “if it was so obvious that this was going to happen, why did a Portuguese want to buy the shop?”
“Jo?o knows as much as I do.”
Emilio finished sorting out some papers on the table, where there were also four or five 1968 issues of ABC, with large photos on the front pages of the latest happenings in Guinea. He stood up and walked with a stoop toward the window.
“Nobody is forcing him to buy the business. I think he’s brave. If only we had had the guts not to recognize the new republic, as Portugal has done.”
He looked at his watch and then out the window impatiently. He wanted Jo?o to get there quickly so they could complete the unpleasant task. A mountain man had his pride. He cleared his throat before adding, “Also, he has a load of children here with a native woman. More than enough reason to stay . . .”
Julia thought of Kilian. Would he not have to leave as well? And leave Bisila’s child to such uncertainty? It was more than obvious how much Kilian adored the little one. He could not abandon him.
“Why don’t you believe the new president?” Julia hung on to his arm. “Hasn’t he been supported by Spain? Since the twelfth of October . . .”
“Don’t remind me of that date!” Emilio squeezed his daughter’s hand. “All those crazed young men turned the city into hell. That was the beginning of the end, yes, when they smashed all the windows of the businesses and houses, and they knocked down the statue of General Barrera, in front of Fraga Iribarne, no less . . . What a way to celebrate the transfer of power!”
“It was their first day of freedom, Dad. But since then, all of Macías’s speeches have been full of praise for Spain. He has promised to continue the Francoist policies of the last thirty years and encourages Spanish businessmen to continue investing in Guinea—”
“Yes, I’ll tell you what I’d give that little cock,” interrupted Generosa in a biting and tone. “Let’s see what happens when he stops getting money. Let’s see how he meets his election promises.”
Emilio puffed, let go of his daughter’s arm, and began to pace the room.
“I’m an old dog, Julia. We’re doing the right thing. If we sign today, we’ll stay for as long as it takes to gather our things together and ship them. Afterward”—he raised his eyes to heaven—“God knows.”
Julia bit her lip to control the rage brought on by her father’s resignation. She looked at the clock. She was in no hurry. Manuel had stayed with the children so she could try and persuade her parents to change their minds. But she did not feel capable of witnessing it. She felt a pang of remorse. If Emilio and Manuel were right, she would be putting her children in serious danger. Maybe she should stop being so stubborn and think of them. If anything happened, she would never forgive herself. She decided to reconsider her stance about leaving the city, but she did not want to be present when the contract was signed.
“Sorry, but I can’t wait any longer. I have to go for the children. In any case, I don’t think I can make you change your minds.”
She picked up her bag and her car keys. She went over to her mother to say good-bye and was surprised how calm she appeared, although deep down she was devastated.
“I’ll walk you to the street,” said Emilio. “Let’s see if he finally makes a damned appearance.”
Downstairs, the door of the store opened, and Dimas came out.
“If it isn’t Emilio! What’s this I’ve been told about you selling your business to a Portuguese?”
“In the end, you got what you wanted. We’re leaving.”
“Isn’t that a bit dramatic?”
“Ask your brother. Haven’t they promoted him again?”
Dimas smiled in pride. “Yes, sir. They have appointed him vice president of the supreme court.”
Julia gasped. She had heard that the new president, Macías, had included members of the different tribal groups and parties, even defeated candidates, both in the government and the administration. But Gustavo’s post was really important.
“I hope it lasts,” said Emilio bitterly.
“Dad . . . ,” Julia butted in.
“And why wouldn’t it last?”
Emilio shook his head. “Don’t get your hopes up, Dimas. I also had everything, and now I have to leave it behind. Let’s hope I’m wrong and you won’t have to go back to the village where you were born. What’s it called? Ah, yes, Ureca.” Someone called his name, and he turned. “Here is Jo?o, at last.” He kissed his daughter. “Fine, well, let’s finish this once and for all.”