Woes of the True Policeman Read Online Free PDF Page B

alone, although occasionally she was accompanied by Jordi Carrera, silent and distant. Amalfitano would hear him arrive, and after a brief interval in which nothing seemed to happen, he would hear them go and it was then that he most regretted having to leave Barcelona. Then he would stay up, though with the lights off, until one or two or three in the morning, which was when Rosa generally came home.
    To Amalfitano, Jordi seemed a shy and formal boy. Rosa liked his silence, which she mistook for thoughtfulness when it was really just a symptom of the confusion raging in his head. For both young people, each day that went by was like a sign, the announcement of an impending future full of significant events; Rosa suspected that the trip to Mexico would mark the end of her adolescence; Jordi sensed that their time together would torment him someday and he didn’t know what to do about it.
    One night they went to a concert. Another night they went to a club where they danced for a long time like two strangers.

8
    Who came to the airport? The Carreras—and, thirty minutes before boarding, Padilla and the poet Pere Girau. Jordi and Rosa’s farewell was silent. The Carreras and Amalfitano’s was traditional, a hug and good luck, write to us. Antoni Carrera knew the poet Pere Girau by reputation, but he greeted him politely. Anna Carrera, however, asked him whether his work had been published and if so where she could buy it. Jordi gave his mother an incredulous look. But you don’t read poetry, he said. Rosa—who, standing next to Jordi, looked much smaller than she was—said: it’s never too late to start, though I would choose something more classic, more solid. Like what, for example? asked the poet Pere Girau, who next to Jordi looked smaller, too (even smaller than Rosa), and who was hurt by the word solid . Padilla cast his gaze skyward. Amalfitano seemed to develop an interest in the fine print on his boarding passes. Catullus, said Rosa, he’s quick and fun. Oh, Catullus, said Anna, I read him ages ago, in college, I think, wasn’t it? Yes, said Antoni Carrera, we read him, of course. Jordi shrugged, but that was a long time ago, I’m sure you don’t remember any of it now. I haven’t been published yet, said the poet Pere Girau with a smile, though this year a collection of mine is coming out with Cavall amb Barretina, the new Catalan publishing house. And do you write poetry too? Anna asked Padilla. Yes, ma’am, but in Spanish, which means there’s no chance I’ll be published by Cavall amb Barretina. But there are other places where you could be published, aren’t there? Or so I imagine. What do you think, Toni? Of course there are other places, said Antoni Carrera, trying to give her a look that explained who Padilla was. Are all of your students poets? asked Rosa. Amalfitano smiled without looking at her. Not all of them, he said. Jordi thought: I should ask Rosa to come with me to the café for a drink, I should get her alone, I should bring her with me to the newsstand and say something, anything. Oh, these are students of yours, said Anna Carrera, at last understanding who they were. Yes, said Amalfitano, and then he smiled: former students. Shall we go get something to drink? Jordi asked. Rosa, after hesitating for a few seconds, said no, there wasn’t time. No, there isn’t time, said the Carreras and Amalfitano. Amalfitano was the only one to notice the boy’s dejected slump and he smiled, youth is the pits. Well, well, well, said Anna Carrera. Yes, the hour approaches, said Amalfitano. I’m so envious, said the poet Pere Girau, I’d love to be on my way to Mexico tonight, wouldn’t you all? I’m starting to feel that way, admitted Antoni Carrera. Padilla gave them a smile that was intended to be ironic but was only tender. It must be the moon, said Anna Carrera. The moon? asked Amalfitano. The moon, the moon, said Anna Carrera, the moon is huge, the kind that makes people go wild or take