by Amos Talshir
He smelled her fresh body, emitting her unique scent. People had begun to drift back to their seats after exhausting all the kindness they could bestow on each other following the baby’s birth. Some of them also suggested setting the day of his birth as the stadium’s independence day. Charlie gazed at pretty, athletic Veronica. She had not looked so smiley and calm since he had first gotten to know her in her seat in the stand. Her hands stroked downward from his shoulders and she placed them on his behind, her eyes gazing back at him with a childish, ingratiating look.
“What do you care? You’ll have a good time sleeping with me,” Veronica said.
At that moment, the matter of the baby reached his consciousness. The thing that preceded a baby, obviously, was pregnancy. The baby she wanted him to leave her was the baby he would make for her. He felt confounded by Veronica’s resignation to life in the stadium and the way she had given up on freedom, suppressing the thought of his baby. In order to have a baby, he was also supposed to sleep with her. What was going on here? He had never thought of sex that way. Or, rather, he had always thought about sex, but not about babies. On the beach with the tourist girls, on the warm sand and in the saltwater, in the little stony cave that was his hideaway inside the bluff, to which he would bring the girls from the northern hemisphere who had come to have a wild time on the Mediterranean coast—it was all just sex, and he had never considered the consequences. And if he did, he was filled with an awful terror, beginning with irresponsibility and ending with conflict. He did not remember thinking about a baby with Clara, either. They had loved the sea and the sun, made love mostly in the sea by sunlight, and never thought about a baby. Apparently, though, she had been thinking about a baby. And later, they had thought of nothing but the baby, and about the doctors and the recovery, and there was no longer sand or sea or sun or sex. He had never slept with a woman and thought about “making” a baby. Was that even possible?
Veronica’s long hair was now a lot less blond than during her first days in the stadium. Charlie thought this shade suited her better. Her pale skin and her eyes, always wide open, looked prettier with her darkening hair. And, yes, her unique scent tickled at places whose location he’d already forgotten. Veronica noticed the spark the moment it appeared in his eyes and, like a female in heat, did not intend to let the moment slip by. She took his hand in hers and began walking. Then she placed his palm on her belly under her shirt. Charlie was tense. It was okay if she was thinking of staying here, he thought. He might have considered staying too; after all, he didn’t really know what was going on out there. It could be that the escape attempt was doomed to fail anyway, perhaps even ending in death from the snipers’ bullets. But to be responsible for a pregnancy? He would disappear and she would stay here with his baby. Would he ever see her and the baby at any point in his life? Maybe not. Well, then, why should he even care? Just have fun, Charlie. At one point, you were willing to put a lot into winning over a woman on the beach. But still, it would be his son. Or daughter. Why am I making a big deal out of this? he thought. Millions of men sleep with women and don’t care whether they get them pregnant or not. While he, Charlie, in this lockdown with the snipers making people’s heads explode, was concerned with the question of pregnancy or no pregnancy. If she wanted it, it was her business. She was looking good. The truth was that during those first days, when he had escorted her so she could pee and gotten stuck in the same stall with her, and then later, by the sink, that buzz had gone through his head.
Yeah, it occurred to me to sleep with her, Charlie admitted to himself. But there had been major panic at the time. He hadn’t known if he would live till the end of the day. The thought had gone through his head and never made it to his waist.
Veronica put her arm around his waist when they approached the underside of the stand. True, he was a bit stressed out. He had gotten used to living with the snipers hovering over him, but not to the idea of the pregnancy she wanted so much. Maybe it just wouldn’t happen for him? He had heard of guys who couldn’t get it up under pressure. Why? Because she was so eager to get pregnant? It wasn’t just that; it was the whole issue of the snipers around them, and he still didn’t know what kind of thoughts would go through his mind at the moment they actually did it. If they did it.
Veronica could feel her ears burning. Her heart was overflowing with an excitement she had never experienced before. Charlie led her through the corridor Simon had told him about, to the hidden fitness room, from which the burrow they would use for their escape wound. Veronica was certain they would do it in one of the restroom stalls, perhaps even the same stall in which she had first peed in his company. She could imagine that restroom stall as the site of her fateful meeting with her baby’s father. She saw the blinding whiteness of the tiles on the wall as a clean, radiant location for her lovemaking with Charlie. The place was different from the dozens of fancy hotel rooms she had gotten to know in her travels with the men who sought out and exploited her company, and therefore, the stadium imbued her with a feeling of belonging and identity. A white restroom, a clean toilet, and a sink with running water all epitomized the exact opposite of her previous life. Her new, modest life filled her with immense satisfaction. A routine of simplicity, with no surprising gifts, sudden trips and unfamiliar hotels. A life without anxiety. She liked the tap water she had gotten used to drinking at the sink after her fitness runs, and the rectangular snacks that the helicopter continued to drop down precisely once a week. She ate three snacks a day and felt how her body was receiving everything it needed in order to be ready for the pregnancy. Her body rewarded her for her new eating habits. No more stylish dinners soaked with drinks and the showy displays of chefs intended to fog up her mind during her spendy outings with men running away from their wives, but rather simple, repetitive eating of dry snacks and tap water. For two years now, she had not been concerned with the giant bags that accumulated in her apartment, full of plastic bottles for recycling. Every morning, before she left for the gym, she would look at those bags and they would look back. She saw herself as an inelegant victim as she grabbed hold of the giant bag and took the elevator down. There she would always run into that neighbor with his special ties, or into another woman who would always interrogate her about the specific shades of her blond curls while she stood there with the bag of bottles for recycling, and sometimes with the trash bags, containing mainly nylon and cellophane packaging and wrapping paper and beautiful boxes and decorative bows from all the gifts and the wrappings they bought her and that she bought herself, more and more, so that she would have everything when in fact she had nothing.
***
Charlie felt her warm hand in his own, and it was the one clear sensation that filled him. Everything else confused him. He didn’t understand Veronica’s kindness and innocence, which trapped him in a place that was alien to him. For many years, no one had talked to him so warmly; perhaps it had never happened before. Certainly not on the beach, where he barely understood the young women tourists’ language, and there had certainly not been even a small, single moment of innocence. Veronica told him she was happy, and that she didn’t want a thing other than what he could do for her.
He focused all of his thoughts on escaping. The entire relationship he had managed to build with Simon was now being tested, and he intended to seduce Veronica with the seriousness of their intentions. He thought that if he showed her the burrow Simon had discovered, the burrow that would lead them to freedom, he would reawaken her urge to escape with them. He had developed a sense of responsibility toward her, precisely because she counted on him so much, precisely because she slept in the seat next to his during the cold, long nights, without any of the regular complexity of a relationship, which always grew complicated. Charlie saw her as his opportunity to be a person who did things for someone else, this time truly with no agenda of his own.
When they reached the end of the corridor, she asked why they hadn’t gone in
to one of the bathroom stalls. Charlie looked into her green, innocent eyes and realized she did not see any other option, other than the thing she was whole-heartedly hoping for, that he would impregnate her. For a moment, he thought of trying to persuade her again, and even pulled her after him into the burrow, so that he could demonstrate the escape route to her, but he stopped himself. He knew she was utterly committed to her plan, and therefore, it was better if she knew nothing about the escape plan, so that she would not blurt out anything in her innocence, which was dangerous both to her and to those around her.
Veronica caressed his face and kissed him in the dimly lit entrance to the burrow. Charlie wanted to talk to her about the idea to which she had sentenced herself, but felt he would only hurt her. She suddenly asked him if he wasn’t attracted to her, and he kissed her and encountered her soft tongue. He tried to fill his thoughts with the pleasant sensation spreading inside his mouth and pushed away the troubling thoughts about this pregnancy in his absence. She pulled him to her, bending her knees. He leaned in toward her. She lay down slowly on the burrow floor, and he covered her with his body.
How could he leave her behind and run off? Charlie thought. Her legs wrapped around him, and he envisioned her lonely in the stadium, walking, pregnant, to the pile of snacks spilled out on the grass while the helicopter noisily took off and the whirlwind of air pushed her back, mussing up her hair. He couldn’t leave her behind.
Veronica sensed Charlie’s turmoil, and that it was not caused by the touch of her body. She kissed him, pulled him to her and buried his head between her breasts. She whispered in his ear that he shouldn’t worry, since she knew what she was doing. “Así me gusta a mí,” she said in Spanish, that’s the way I like it, but she sensed that her words distanced him and made it difficult for him to succumb to the pleasure she was offering.
Charlie smelled her smooth skin and brushed his face against it. It was the natural odor of a body that had known nothing but water for a long period of time, different from the coarse perfumes that would cloud his senses in the past. That same scent of her next to him in the seat, when the nocturnal breeze suddenly changed and brought it to his awakening nostrils in one of his nightly fantasies. That warm, immediate scent of her arms and belly flooded his breathing and he hoped to feel the heat climbing between his legs, but that did not happen.
Veronica intuited that he was distracted and directed good words into his ear. She told him how good she felt and how much she wanted him inside of her. Told him she had always liked him and whispered that even back then, when she had been bathing by the sink, she had hoped he would come to her. Veronica felt his body rallying and responding to her and continued softly moving her thighs against his body. She did all she could to conquer his thoughts, continuing to talk to him with a conscious passion. She told him this would be her best experience ever with a man, that she felt so good with him and would never feel that way again.
Charlie inhaled the scent rising from her body, enjoying her voice as it pleasured him with words of love and moans of rapture. With his body held tight against hers, they moved in an embrace, their bodies adhering to each other with perspiration. She shook him inside her, more and more, hugging his body, scattering whispers inviting him to come inside her.
Charlie couldn’t manage to remain inside the pleasure. Thoughts of her intentions distracted him from the action, and he murmured words of apology. Veronica stroked his face and told him she couldn’t remember if he had always had a beard, or if it had only grown while they were under lockdown. Charlie told her he had always taken care to stay clean-shaven, and that the beard made him quite dejected. He told her again that she was charming and that he had a good time with her and explained that two years in the stadium had apparently done something that had disrupted his condition.
Veronica kissed him and told him he shouldn’t worry, since it probably had to do with the pregnancy she wanted from him. Until they succeeded, he should just have fun sleeping with her, since she had already decided to love him and found it very pleasant.
Charlie thought that Veronica had turned into the wise one of the two of them, while he had turned stupid. It made him want to tell her he had once read an article about a Formula One driver who was asked how he managed to win every race. The driver said that if you were focused on your goal, you started to act wisely. The interviewer said that was obvious. But the driver insisted on explaining to the journalist that there was a difference between the goal of reaching the finish line first and the goal of getting ahead of the person in front of you. Because only thinking about “the now” would result in victory.
Veronica said she didn’t understand what that had to do with them, and Charlie explained that it was like thinking about making a baby instead of thinking about the pleasure now. Veronica held him tight on the burrow’s concrete floor and told him that she understood now, because it was like the spirituality workshop that she’d taken at the studio, where they had also been told they should live each day like it was the last day of their lives. Charlie said that Formula racing was also a very spiritual thing, and she said she had liked it when he told her she looked like Brigitte Bardot, and Charlie felt that the waves were beating once more within his reawakened body.
33.
Veronica was very happy. She was very excited about the mass dance event that Simon had initiated to commemorate the anniversary of the revolution. Exactly two years ago, the game between Athletic and Sportive had taken place, after which the stadium had been placed under lockdown. Veronica had sad memories of Clebber, who had taken her on the spontaneous trip to the soccer game and had died of diabetes a month or two later. She didn’t really remember him and in fact had not truly known him well before the trip. It occurred to her to honor his memory on the anniversary of his death, next to his grave, but she could not actually remember exactly when he had died. Those had been days of confusion and fear, and she hadn’t understood what had happened and what was going to happen. In any case, Clebber did not have a grave she could visit. They took all the dead away in the claw-arm truck and made the bodies disappear. She promised herself to ask Simon exactly when the anniversary of Clebber’s death was. He would certainly be able to come up with the precise date.
Simon caressed his smartphone. He passed his fingers over each letter and button on the keyboard, cleaned the screen with a rag and checked one more time that the battery was full. At least eighteen hours of activity. He was ready to give it up in order to ensure the success of their escape. He transferred the pocketknife and several more items essential for their survival from the backpack into an opaque plastic bag and put it in the money belt he fastened around his waist. The late-afternoon hour promised warm, pleasant weather that night. Simon talked to Charlie to confirm once more exactly where they would meet at the agreed-upon time. The fans were roaming around the turf as was their custom when the night grew near. The escape had been scheduled for that night, the anniversary of the revolutionary forces’ takeover of the stadium. Simon was relying on the celebration he had planned in honor of the revolution to serve as an excellent diversion, compelling the sharpshooters to behave in a restrained manner.
Veronica had gotten used to the routine of life in the stadium and was utterly devoted to the development of her fetus. That evening, she would allow herself to wholly commit to the massive dance party. Simon told her it was very important for as many of the stadium’s inhabitants as possible to get swept up in the dancing, and for the party to last as long as it could. She had grown used to the boy’s meticulous nature. At first, she had found his seriousness, which was a contrast to the radiant smile on his face, amusing. It confused her, even embarrassed her, but she had quickly grown to like him. She memorized all the instructions he had showered upon her and took the stairs down from the stand to the turf along with Charlie, leaning on his shoulder.
Simon said goodbye to them and headed for the light pole where Charlie
had already prepared the required hookup to the loudspeakers. On his way there, he unexpectedly saw Rose hurrying toward the locals’ stand. He rushed after her, veering somewhat from his path to the pole. He caught up with her and touched her shoulder from behind. Rose turned to him, and he noticed that her expression was slightly frightened. He told her the operation was scheduled for that evening, and she asked what operation, mock-innocent. Simon was certain she was trying to make light of the matter in order to encourage him and ease the tension. They stood on the turf, gazing at one another. Simon hoped to feel the heat that would envelop him when he came to see her in her burrow, but her gaze did not reciprocate. Her eyes were scanning the space beyond his shoulder. He had come to her burrow several times, but she had not been there, and neither had his blanket. It had been a while since Simon had managed to see her. He wanted to tell her she was putting herself at risk by coming out of the burrow to the pitch. The members of her resistance had not forgiven her for trying to hand them over to the revolutionaries. Simon knew they were capable of the worst when they could use their ideology to justify their actions. The revolutionaries also wanted to hurt her for disrupting public order by leaving her seat. Although she took care to mingle with the thousands of people wandering the turf, the snipers might recognize her. After all, the men had not forgotten her streaking, or the sight of her face. Simon wanted to warn her, to tell her how much he worried about her, because that was what he felt. But strange things were running through his mind. Thoughts about what she would think he really meant, along the lines of maybe he’s only saying that because he just wants me to stay in the burrow and wait for him. An unfamiliar dejection flooded his thoughts, causing him to realize he was preoccupied with adult thoughts. Indeed, he was two years older, perhaps much more than that.
