The Two Deaths of Senora Puccini Read Online Free PDF

girl and pay for her education while also promising not to divulge the secret of her parenthood.”
    Dalakis walked back to his chair and slowly lowered himself onto the leather cushion until his legs stretched straight out in front of him on the carpet. I noticed holes in the soles of his unpolished black shoes. Malgiolio stood by the bookshelves leafing through a book of photographs for no more reason, I’m sure, than to irritate Dalakis.
    â€œThe girl came up here. Of course she had no idea that Pacheco was her father. They saw quite a lot of each other. He took her to dinner and the theater or they would meet and talk over a cup of coffee. She was a lively and attractive girl and Pacheco must have liked her. As you might imagine, the girl soon developed a crush on him. She saw him as a handsome man, a friend of her parents, who was going out of his way to help her get settled in a new city. She began to flirt with him, show him that she was available, but he ignored her. She began to doubt herself, to think, perhaps, she was even ugly. Truly, we only have to look at that photograph to see how foolish that was.
    â€œPacheco realized there were going to be problems. He began to see less of her, which made matters worse. She became desperate. Then one night, very late, she came to his house. Pacheco was already in bed. She waited for him to come down, waited in this very room. When Pacheco entered she was standing by the fireplace. She was wearing a black coat. He approached to kiss her cheek. When he had nearly reached her, she opened the coat. Underneath, she was naked. She didn’t say anything; she was too frightened.”
    Dalakis lifted his hands and pressed them together in front of his mouth. Then he blew through them, making a rushing noise. Malgiolio had stopped leafing through the book and was waiting to hear what Dalakis would say next.
    â€œCan you imagine that moment? Of course Pacheco looked at her. Who can blame him? Think of her immaculate, untouched body. But at last he turned away. ‘Do you find me so ugly?’ she called after him. He stood with his back to her. ‘Ugly?’ he asked. ‘You are extremely beautiful. Unluckily, you are also my daughter.’ Of course, she was astonished and at first she didn’t believe him. Pacheco told her the entire story. Then she felt humiliated but Pacheco said there was nothing to feel guilty about, that only a simple mistake had been made.
    â€œBut, in fact, it wasn’t so simple. Even though she knew Pacheco was her father, her feelings were unchanged. She told my daughter about it. She said she still desired him, that she hungered for him. It was not long after that she went to study in Paris. She couldn’t stay in the same city with Pacheco, couldn’t stay in the same country.
    â€œMy daughter hears from her occasionally. She knows no men, won’t go out. Here she is, one of the most beautiful women in the city of Paris, yet she refuses to give herself to another man because the man she loves, whom she passionately desires, happens to be her father. Amazing, isn’t it? If you look at the picture closely, you can even see a resemblance—those almond-shaped eyes, for instance, and that wide chin. . . .”
    There was an abrupt squawking noise as Malgiolio tilted back his head and laughed up at the ceiling. “That’s the most ridiculous story I’ve ever heard. Really, Carl, you should have been an actor. I’m not saying Pacheco didn’t have a daughter under such circumstances, but I’ll swear that the woman in the photograph is not she.”
    I stood up and walked over to Dalakis. The story struck me as both charming and foolish. I put my hand on his shoulder. “You really are an incurable romantic, Carl. How could you bring yourself to believe such a thing?”
    â€œIt’s true,” said Dalakis, half angry and half laughing. “The girl really is his