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Asel Luzarraga Zarrabeitia > Extracts

Narrative (short story and novel)

2003 Many Convex Mirrors | Labayru

The atmosphere in Ainhize’s bedroom was electric. With After-Sun plastered all over her body she was counting the minutes and the seconds left before she was due to leave. In fact an hour without seeing Unax was an entire lifetime; a few days, nearly week, seemed like an eternity to her. Four times she went through her wardrobe before she had chosen the most suitable outfit, and each time she tried one on and took it off she checked and rechecked that the key was in her pocket.

She also played some suitable music on her CD player to create a nice atmosphere; it was slower than on other occasions, but not too far removed from rock music. So the sound of the Sasoi Ilunak band, Txuma’s broken voice and the unmistakeable meaning of the words themselves helped to fan the flame within her.


I keep you hidden
in the depths of my chamber,
I love you, thick, dry lips.
On the overwide bed my feeble prick
grows and grows and grows.

“I can’t bear it any more… This is madness… Why do you all do this…” Unable to keep going, the voice was broken by the jerky rhythm of the breathing. Fingernails penetrated the sheets sharply in a bid to get hold of something.
“Do you like it or not?”
“Yes, I do, Yes…, Yes…”
“And you don’t want us to stop…”
“Don’t know…, I don’t know…”
“What do you think ………? You’re a woman, you know them better.”
“No, I don’t. She’s very hot. Can’t you see the sheets will need changing?”
“How… how did you got me into this?”

Arantxa, receiving all manner of pleasures at the hands of the brother and sister and believing that something was going to burst inside her head, felt as if she was in a web of a huge insect, under the effect of its poisonous stings and with a feeling of weakness all over. And she could not make out whether or not she wanted to free herself from that situation. In fact, she could not determine how it had all started and how it had got to that point. She did not know whether she would have had the chance to avoid it in advance, nor when she had begun to go in that direction. Everything was obscure and confused in her mind, and she could not even distinguish whether the hand touching her belonged to Unax or Ida. She recognised only one thing that belonged to Unax, it had of necessity to be his, and every time she felt her skin or insides burning, it seemed to her that she was going explode against a sky of sharp, fine glass.

The hot south wind greeted her by the time she was over the threshold and was threatening to blow her mini-skirt up into the air. Holding it from behind with one hand, she headed for the bus station, the coolness of the metal key having turned warm in her hot hand long before.

I was attracted to you
You made space for me in your bed
You taught me most of what I know:
About lyrics, music and fucking

Yes, the echoes of Txuma Murugarren’s voice were still repeating themselves among Ainhize’s thoughts. All life’s events are in songs before they happen; in whatever moment you are living, you can find one that fits perfectly. But as she remembered the whole song, she said to herself that it would not fit completely, as she repeated other verses.

“I’m going to suffocate. What a tight spot, we’ve gone crazy.”
“No, we haven’t Arantxa, what we have got back makes good sense. I bet you’re enjoying yourself in a way you haven’t done for a long time,” replied Unax, from between the dark down of the other girl, lips against lips, as the tongue slowly caused a slippery discharge.

Arantza tried to answer, but Ida filled her mouth with her honey, her knees at the head of the bed, her backbone bending back to form an arch with the suppleness of a cat, her black hair caressing Unax’s shoulders.
“And the best is yet to come…” she whispered.

The lift stopped at the corresponding floor. Not as daring as she normally was, she nevertheless directed her feet towards the familiar door. She stopped in front of it but did not ring the bell as she remembered she was supposed to go straight in. Maybe he wasn’t home yet, in which case she could wait in the bedroom that had turned into a nest for a few days. She squeezed the key in her hand until its edges hurt her skin before she took it out of her pocket. She held it in position in front of the lock, slowly inserted it, and only had to turn it once. He must be home by now. She pushed the door and was inside. The hall light was off and she didn’t turn it on either. She went along the corridor and as she approached the door, she heard sounds like breathing coming from inside… She listened carefully without uttering a word as if instinct was requiring silence of her, and went in. It was the sound of breathing, no doubt about it, but strong and interrupted, broken, deep… Timidly her heart wanted to hide in a place that was as far away as possible. Something was shouting at her to turn round and leave quickly, but she had to go in, into the bedroom where she had been told that Unax would be waiting for her. Her mind was piercing her soul more and more loudly with the other verses of the song; even if she wanted to silence that voice and reject it with all her might. But it refused to be quiet.

And then you committed betrayal
the blackest betrayal against me….
And then you committed betrayal
You bastard, son of a bitch, the blackest betrayal.
You lured me
You made space for me in your bed…

No. Songs didn’t know everything. Not everything came true. Life and songs only coincided in some aspects…

“Please… let me have a breather… I’m exhausted… I won’t be fit for anything tomorrow…”
Unax got ready for the final onslaught, the final eruption. He would leave his sister satisfied for a bit, so that he could concentrate on his own plan. Anyway, it was all over with Arantxa. Once she left them, she would be full of embarrassment and would not dare to look them straight in the eye in front of the others, nor would she meet up with him again. She would not forget that afternoon, but she would not have the courage to repeat it. Besides, she had to admit she was enjoying herself with that game. A few more thrusts, and…

The bedroom door was opening without a sound, slowly, but opening wide. On the other side the three saw the face of a pale, frightened little girl. Trembling, she looked without seeing. Arantxa’s blood froze because she didn’t understand anything. In fact, only one person understood what was going on. Three naked bodies, knotted together, the penetrating smell of sweat and sex, the stifling, dark room, the little red-haired girl nailed to the door. In a dimension that could not be measured in time. There was no desire to use up all the hundredths of a second.
The sparkle of a small tear broke the fascination of the unending second. Without seeking permission, the teardrop coursed down Ainhize’s cheek, before the little girl turned round and flew out. She didn’t want to cry, and particularly not in front of those disgusting pigs. She detested them. She wanted to die right there, so as not to have to try and understand.
Before anyone had had the chance to move, the door slammed. Unax, who was totally confused, got up and ran to the door, unconcerned about his nakedness. He called out the little girl’s name again and again, but it was no use. She was a long way in both mind and body to hear anything.

Arantxa, having begun to understand the confusion, got dressed as best she could, gathered up her things, and sobbing, left as fast as she could. Never in all her life had she felt so insulted.

Unax returned to the solitude, because Ida had left too. His mind on fire he lay down on the bed lost in the midst of the chaos, his mind more satisfied than his body. What had Ainhize been doing in his house? How had she got in? But he would get no reply from the damp sheets.
 

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