“Yes, yes, you laugh,” said Jacobo sarcastically, “but I see that like Manuel, you will make the engagement official and start having afternoon snacks in the Parador.”
“Everyone’s hour comes sometime, Jacobo.” Marcial shrugged his broad shoulders with a resigned smile. “Sooner or later, but it comes. The years pass and a family has to be formed, says I.”
“I’m going for a shower. It’s dinnertime.” Jacobo jumped to his feet and began walking to the dining room.
“It’s bloody amazing how much that lad likes black meat!” whispered Mateo to Marcial, shaking his head. “I don’t know if he could get used to the other now.”
Kilian scowled. The same thing always happened: after a good laugh, there was always a bitter aftertaste. He lit a cigarette and let the others pass him. He enjoyed this moment where, almost without warning, day became night. He leaned back against a wall, waiting for the shadows, and he thought of Sade.
In his mind, he drew the svelte figure of the woman, her long legs, her smooth skin, her generous and firm breasts, her long, thin face with dark almond-shaped eyes and full lips. Like the dark dust that pervaded the atmosphere, the dizzying succession of days in the last few months had also been bittersweet, rivers of sweat compensated by an excellent harvest and by short moments with her. As Kilian’s body and limbs filled out and his skin took on a permanent tan, he noticed he was as successful as Jacobo at a dance. Decked out in their white linen shirts, perfectly ironed, their baggy beige trousers and their brilliantine-doused dark hair, the brothers had no problem getting the attention of women—white and black. Kilian knew all too well that going out with Jacobo meant finishing up fairly drunk on whiskey and in the arms of a pretty woman, but he had gotten tired of this months ago. So he had decided to restrict his outings to the city to those sporadic encounters with the beautiful Sade. She never asked or reproached him for anything. He went to the club, and there was his Sade, always willing to be with him after weeks had passed. Kilian enjoyed his occasional moments with her, and he laughed at her fresh sense of humor and her worldly and affectionate attitude.
In the end, he had not been able to avoid everyone finding out about his relationship, and he had to put up with the jokes. He tried to act indifferent, and even gave witty replies, but in his heart of hearts, he felt ashamed. He was no different from the rest of them, even getting to the point of asking himself if one day he could think of Sade as a woman that he could plan a future with or start a family . . .
The answer circled his insides until it became confused with the craving for another cigarette, and that is where it stayed, crouched and cowardly like a rat in the forest.
A few days later, Jacobo approached Kilian with a telegram he had received from Bata.
“It’s from Dick. He’s inviting us on another elephant hunt in Cameroon, and to spend some time in Douala. Garuz is happy. I’m sure he’ll give us permission. It’s a pity that it coincides with the harvest party at the Fishing Club next Saturday. The whole world will be there. And I also have tickets for the evening’s boxing in the Santa Isabel stadium. Slow Poison versus Bala Negra.” He swore. “We go through months with nothing and then everything at once! What’ll we do?”
Kilian had no intention of going to any of the events, especially after hearing about the hunt from Dick and Pao. And he did not fancy another big party. As for boxing, he got no pleasure in seeing two men beating each other till they collapsed.
“I won’t go to Cameroon,” he answered. “It’s bound to cost a lot of money, and I’m saving it for my trip to Spain. But you should go without me.”
“Yes, but . . .” Jacobo clicked his tongue. “I’ll tell you what. We’ll do it next time. Then, we’ll go to the party . . . We can go to the boxing match afterward.”
Kilian said nothing.
A few meters away, José appeared with a load of empty sacks left over from packing the cocoa. He stopped to tell a worker to sweep better and not to leave any of the husks that remained in the dryers; they would be sold to make low-quality cocoa.
Kilian smiled. José was something else! He had never met such a meticulous person. Over the last number of months, Kilian had gotten to know him better than any other employee on the plantation. Truthfully, he felt comfortable in his company. José was a quiet man—his rare outbursts lasted no more than a few seconds—blessed with an innate wisdom.
“Don’t tell me you have other plans with José,” said Jacobo, looking in the same direction as his brother.
“Why do you say that?”
“Come on, Kilian, I wasn’t born yesterday. Do you think I don’t know that you escape with him to Bissappoo whenever you get the chance? I can’t understand it.”
“I’ve only gone three or four afternoons.”
“And what do you do there?”
“Why don’t you come one day and see?”
“Go up to Bissappoo? For what?”
“To spend the afternoon. To talk to José’s family. You know, Jacobo, it reminds me of Pasolobino. Each one does what they have to do, and later they gather to tell stories, like we do at home beside the fire. There are loads of young children laughing and playing pranks, and their mothers get annoyed. Their culture is mysterious and interesting. And they ask about our valley—”
Jacobo waved his hand in annoyance. “For God’s sake, Kilian! There’s no comparison!” he said with slight contempt. “How could you prefer that village to Santa Isabel?”
“I didn’t say that I preferred it,” retorted his brother. “There’s time for everything.”
“I can imagine the intelligent conversations you have there!”
“Hey, Jacobo”—Kilian sighed—“you know José as well. Is he that different?”
“Apart from being black, you mean . . .”
“Yes, of course.”
“That’s already enough for me, Kilian. We’re different.”
“To speak to them, they are different, but to sleep with them, they aren’t?”
Jacobo squinted. “You know what?” He raised his voice. “I think the holidays will do you good!”
He marched off angrily. Kilian did not flinch. Jacobo was a bit short-tempered. Tonight he would be back to his normal self.
Kilian looked around again for José, who was on his way to one of the stores. He called out his name in Bubi, “?sé! Hey, ?sé!”
José looked up and joined the young man.
“Have you any plans for the coming weekend?” Kilian asked.
“Nothing special.” José shrugged, knowing that Kilian probably needed a good excuse to get out of something. “One of my daughters is getting married.”