The House of Silence Read Free Page B

you, I said without blinking. Yes, but where does the cart go? he asked me. To the dump, I said, stupefied, and nothing more came out of my mouth. We both went out to the street and, when he looked at me questioningly, I toldhim in a thin voice, the dump is very far away. He stopped for a moment and I had my head lowered, but I could feel his eyes on the back of my neck. Then I saw that he was hailing a taxi, and I went into the taxi dressed as a maid, with apron, cap, and everything, because he pushed me inside it. He got in himself and ordered: to the dump. The taxi driver, without saying a word, took us there. It was far, out in the middle of nowhere, and the trip was horrible, because neither of us spoke. But Mr. Karl’s leg moved on its own every once in a while, and it made me jump every time. We arrived, and Mr. Karl told the taxi driver to wait while we got out and looked over that immense pile of rubbish and stink. They must have already emptied all the carts in the city because there wasn’t a single one there. It was very late. Come on, said Mr. Karl, and he took me to the very edge of the garbage. You couldn’t see much. I knew there were people who rummaged through the trash, but they did it during the day. Now you couldn’t see anything. But Mr. Karl didn’t let that stop him: Go on, get in there, he told me. Who? Me? I asked in alarm. Yes. Mr. Karl didn’t want to hear any excuses, I could see that. I picked up my skirt and took a step. And then another and then another. And that was how I went straight into that disgusting dump, something I had certainly never done before, not here and not in Andalusia and never again since. Virgin of the Macarena, help me, I whispered. And I started to pick through all kinds of rubbish with my hands, and I got all dirty, and everything smelled really rotten, but I had to find that violin. I rummaged through everything I could for a good long while—up and down, there where the carts were emptied out, and it turned out that the violin wasn’t there. I felt lost, it’s not here, sir, I finallysaid, rising out of the filth. I saw him backlit, dark. I couldn’t make out the expression on his face. I only heard him say, Come back. I went back and I couldn’t find him. Mr. Karl had gotten back to the taxi and I thought he’d forgotten about me. I didn’t say anything, I let him leave and I thought I’d have to walk home, and I tripped and I fell facedown and split open my forehead. Then I saw that the taxi was still there and that the rear door was open, waiting for me. I leapt toward the car. Mr. Karl didn’t even look at me. He was glued to the other window, with his hand furtively covering his nose the whole time, but his leg no longer moved of its own accord. The taxi driver gave me a look through the rear-view mirror—a look that made me think, Maria, you must stink to high heaven.
    Reaching the house after a trip in silence, I went to my room and washed up, cleaning the wound on my forehead as best I could. Then I packed my suitcase. What a way to lose a good job, I said to myself sadly. I’d only been working there for six months, but I’d realized that I had found one of the best houses to serve. I was happy there, and it seemed that Mr. Karl had been pleased with me. But all good things come to an end. With my coat on and my suitcase in one hand, I went to say goodbye to Mr. Karl. I found him sitting on the sofa, looking up, sighing over the lost violin. I said: Sir, I’m terribly sorry about what happened; forgive me. He looked at me in surprise and asked: Where could you possibly be going at this hour? I’m leaving, I said, confused; I figured after what happened . . . He got up and addressed the piano saying, don’t start with that nonsense now; I was the one who told you to throw out the violin on the chair. And take care of your forehead; you’ve got a gash.

Teresa
    The