The Blue Line

by Ingrid Betancourt

  —

  Diane arrives less than half an hour after Julia’s phone call. She lets herself in noisily through the kitchen door and finds Julia sitting curled up in the living room, miles away.

  “Darling! Are you sick?”

  “No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t think I can move.”

  “Then it must be serious.”

  “Yes. Theo’s cheating on me.”

  “Oh, my God! How do you know? Are you sure?”

  Julia describes the episode in the trunk of the car.

  Diane explodes into a fit of giggles and collapses onto the sofa next to Julia, who begins to laugh as well.

  “Tell me you didn’t do that, Julia!” Diane squeals.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “But that’s pathetic, darling! Theo could have found you. Can you imagine?”

  They double up on the sofa, roaring with laughter.

  “Okay, if that’s all it is, we’re going to celebrate,” Diane says finally. “Let’s open a bottle of champagne.”

  “Stop it. I haven’t been able to eat a single thing all day.”

  “I can see that, but I’m not asking you to eat. We’re going to drink! We’re going to celebrate his adultery.”

  “No way. That’s out of the question!”

  “But don’t you see? You’ve spent your whole life moping around because of him. Julia, you’re beautiful, young, and full of life. He’s just set you free! This calls for a celebration.”

  Julia gets up and, with an air of conviction, takes the champagne flutes out of the sideboard and sets about ceremoniously opening the bottle Theo always keeps chilled in the fridge.

  “I’ve been asking Theo for the past week what happened to the foie gras I brought back from France. Now I realize: he celebrated before us!”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t think I have any choice, Diane. I’m going to leave him.”

  The two women look at each other.

  “Yes. The fact is the two of you have a serious, fundamental problem, and I’m not sure you can set things straight. We’ve seen each other practically every day for nearly four years now. I’ve had plenty of time to observe your relationship with Theo. Anyone would have thought that if one of you was going to tire of the marriage, it’d be you. But there you go. Darling, I think you’ve just gradually fallen out of love.”

  “I don’t think that’s true for me.”

  “Sure it is. Look, it’s very clear. You wanted to be the person you thought he wanted you to be. But he wanted you to be the way you were before. He’s not the same person anymore, either. Basically, the person you love is no longer there. And you are both imprisoned in the past. Sorry, darling, you’re going to have to let me raise a toast to good old Theo. Now that he’s running after that Korean girl of his, I actually think he’s pretty impressive.”

  They hear the kitchen door opening.

  It’s Theo.

  16.

  THE BERKSHIRE MANOR

  Boreal Autumn

  2006

  We were just drinking a toast to you,” Diane says to him.

  Theo quickly puts his things down on the kitchen counter and walks into the living room to join in the conversation. But Diane glances at her watch and, suddenly remembering an urgent something or another, leaves them. Theo and Julia look at each other, confused.

  “Have you packed your things?” Theo asks finally.

  “What things?”

  “But . . . we’re off to the Berkshires, aren’t we?” he stammers, taken aback. “Why do I always have to remind you of what’s going on?”

  “Maybe because I had more important things to take care of.”

  “Come on, let’s get ready quickly. It’ll do us good to get away, Julia, my love.”

  “Go pack your bag. I’ll pack mine.”

  “Don’t you want to help me?”

  “No.”

  Theo doesn’t lose his composure and goes upstairs to pack his things. Then he goes out to load the motorcycle onto the trailer. Julia joins him outside and waits for him by the car. She has taken Diane’s advice and is wearing her black skirt, a white silk blouse, and her wedge sandals that really show off her legs. It seems like they’re in for a magnificent sunset. The clouds are melting away like candy against a pink and green background. Julia isn’t sure she has the strength to face what lies ahead.

  The bags are now in the back of the car and they’re ready to leave. Brushing past Julia, Theo turns and peers at her.

  “You look tall!” he says, sounding surprised.

  The remark irritates Julia: she’s being compared with someone else. She shrugs. Diane was right. He’s falling off his pedestal.

  They get into the car, get on the freeway, and turn off onto the Merritt Parkway. The idea of shutting herself up in a forest makes Julia feel more at ease. She likes the way this landscape stands up for itself. Theo joins the Connecticut 8 toward Waterbury, heading north to the small town of Lee.

  All of nature seems ablaze. Autumn is her favorite season. Julia would like to love this country without him, to come back without him. To see it all again, one last time: the needle-shaped steeple of Lee’s little church, its winding river and the old covered wooden bridge. She switches on the radio. A tired old Led Zeppelin song comes through the speakers. The notes travel through her veins like poison, secreting an uncontrollable sadness. She digs her nails into her palms to keep herself from crying. Theo hasn’t noticed anything.

  But she can feel he’s agitated, ill at ease. In the end he asks her to help him look for a CD he’s just bought. “It should be in the glove compartment.”

  Julia doesn’t react. He stretches out an arm impatiently and brushes her knee.

  “Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t stand that music anymore.”

  “But you used to love it.”

  Theo flinches. “We’re not the same people anymore, Julia.”

  “I’m not so sure. The tree draws life from its roots.”

  By way of an answer, he puts the CD in the player. A wave of ear-splitting sounds floods the car. She turns down the volume and turns to Theo. “You like this!”

  Theo throws her a black look. “Yes. This music helps me.”

  Julia would like to help him too. But she no longer knows how.

  —

  They leave the Mass Pike and take the little roads that wind westward through the countryside. Night is already falling by the time they finally reach the deserted little town of Lee. They drive down a narrow, leafy road and turn left into a lane lined with huge maple trees. At the far end of a park is a large house with several outbuildings. It is a big Georgian-style farmhouse dating back to the beginning of the eighteenth century. It has been well looked after, repainted all in white with a new gray slate roof. They park the car under the proud trees and go inside with the owner, who has come out to greet them.

  He leads them through a maze of little staircases and corridors, stopping in front of a door on the third floor. “I’ve made up the Blue Room for you,” he says courteously.

  “Perfect, thank you,” Theo replies, placing their bags on the bed.

  The man sets about coaxing the embers of the fire back into flames and then leaves, closing the door softly behind him.

  Theo crouches in front of the hearth. Julia stares at him, then sits down on the pretty wooden chest at the foot of the bed. The mantelpiece displays a collection of antique plates that give the room its name. She wishes it all could have just been a misunderstanding, and that Mama Fina had been wrong.

  “Theo . . . I ran into your colleagues from work.”

  “Oh, did you? The McIntyres?” Theo says without turning around.

  “Yes, the McIntyres.”

  “And?”

  “They wer
e out for a lunchtime jog.” She pauses. “They told me they take Fridays off, like you.”

  “Not like me. I’ve already explained it to you.”

  “Stop it, Theo.”

  Theo turns around and snarls: “So you’re spying on me?”

  “I know you’re seeing one of your colleagues. A Korean girl called Mia.”

  Theo turns pale and sits down abruptly on the floor. Licking his lips, he avoids Julia’s gaze. When he finally speaks, it’s clear he’s choosing his words carefully. “She’s just a friend. I see her at the office. We have lunch together once in a while.”

  She watches him struggle, his throat dry, his eyes casting about the room. He’s suffering, but he carries on talking, gradually gaining confidence.

  “You remember, I pointed her out to you at the Fourth of July party. We were in the parking lot for the fireworks.”

  Julia has stopped looking at him. She doesn’t want to listen to him anymore. She is doubled over, her eyes feverish.

  “I’m more upset with you for lying to me than for cheating on me.”

  Theo falls silent, paralyzed. After a moment, she adds: “I wanted so much to help you.”

  Julia thinks she sees him falter. He runs his fingers nervously through his hair. “You don’t understand. I have to break free from the past, Julia. I can’t explain.”

  “Don’t explain. Theo, I’m leaving you.”

  Her words echo in the silence, frightening her. Julia is overcome with dizziness. Long minutes tick by slowly, increasing the distance between them. Theo puts an end to it.

  “Are you sure?”

  Julia doesn’t know. She wishes she could go back in time, wipe it all out.

  “Are you going to live with her?”

  Theo turns around.

  “No. We’re not like that.”

  —

  His words feel like a slap in the face.

  17.

  CASTELAR POLICE STATION

  Beginning of the Austral Winter

  1976

  Shouldering his bag and his dreams, Gabriel had left. Theo and Julia had shut the door behind him and clung to each other. They were going to have to leave Argentina. The thought had terrified her. She hadn’t been able to even begin to imagine their life elsewhere, especially when she’d just told Theo she was pregnant. She had been scared. She had held him tighter, struck by a painful feeling of solitude. What if their escape attempt failed and they were captured by the military and disappeared into one of its torture centers? What if the two of them were tortured or separated?

  Theo had placed his hand over her mouth to shush her. “No, my love. Stop it.”

  But Julia had pulled free, overwrought. “If they torture me, Theo, I won’t be able to hold out. I’ll give everyone away and then I’ll hate myself as long as I live!”

  Theo had sat down on the bed and gripped her firmly, holding her still. “No. We’re not like that.”

  Theo’s words had seeped into her and calmed her immediately. The “we” had been an epiphany, revealing to her a new identity founded on the strength of love. It existed both inside her and outside, through Theo. Never again would there be emptiness. Mama Fina had been right: there was magic in words. The “we” had eclipsed her fear.

  She had slipped her fingers through his and repeated: “No, we’re not like that.”

  —

  She repeated the same words to herself as she lay jammed against Rosa in the trunk of the Ford Falcon, rigid with fear. Julia wished she could hug her, to give herself courage and to make Rosa be quiet.

  “I didn’t say anything, I swear,” Rosa was saying over and over again, on the verge of suffocation.

  “Be quiet. We’re not like that,” Julia replied, seeking the echo of Theo’s voice in her own.

  The car braked sharply. A door opened. No, sounds more like a heavy gate with rusty hinges. Orders, insults, men. The car slid slowly through this corridor of shouting and the sound of boots, then came to a stop with a wrench of the emergency brake.

  The trunk suddenly opened. Julia blinked, blinded by the glare. A big courtyard, a big building with a metal spiral staircase outside. Julia’s brain registered pillars, windows, two stories, a dozen uniformed men.

  “Blindfold them, you idiots!” a voice yelled; then she received a blow that brought her to her knees. When she’d gotten her breath back, she caught a glimpse of Rosa, with a hood over her head, being dragged toward a door underneath the metal staircase. Then Julia saw him. Theo was standing motionless and blindfolded at the foot of the stairs.

  “I’m here!” she shouted with all she had.

  Her audacity met with a shower of blows before a sack was pulled over her head, nearly suffocating her.

  She was thrown into a cell and kicked repeatedly by a man who forbade her to take off the hood. A door creaked and she heard the sound of a key being turned in a lock. Then there was silence.

  “They’ve gone,” murmured a soft voice from somewhere close by. “You can take off the sack; you’ll have plenty of time to put it back on. We can hear them coming from a distance.”

  Julia lifted a corner of the sack and saw Rosa, still wearing her hood, and a blond teenager sitting next to her.

  “My name’s Adriana. What’s yours?”

  They were in a long, narrow prison cell. A few feet away a woman lay motionless, her clothes covered in blood. Adriana followed Julia’s gaze.

  “That’s Paola. She’s been like that since yesterday. She’s breathing, though.”

  Not daring to ask any questions, Julia looked around. At the far end of the cell was a dirty ceramic toilet with a cracked rim. Cold light filtered in from the ceiling through a skylight with a mesh grille.

  “We’re spoiled. We have a toilet. The others have to go on the floor. That’s why it smells so bad.”

  Julia became aware of the foul stench in the air.

  “And it comes in handy for a drink of water and a quick wash.”

  Julia felt like gagging.

  “What’s your friend’s name?” Adriana asked.

  “Sorry, my name’s Julia. And she’s Rosa.”

  Hearing Julia’s voice, Rosa cautiously lifted a corner of her hood. “Where are we?” she asked.

  “In Castelar.”

  Rosa looked horrified.

  The three of them crouched close together. Adriana lowered her voice to a whisper. “Upstairs there’s a table, two chairs, and a bed. The lights are very bright. First we’re interrogated by the colimbas.* Then the commanders take over. There’s one in particular, El Loco*—he’s really bad. It was Paola’s second time. She told me everything. She wants me to be prepared.”

  “You haven’t been up there?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “And Paola, can we talk to her?”

  “She’s not answering. She’s not even moaning. They brought her back half-dead.”

  “Have you already seen people die?” Julia asked. “I mean, have any prisoners died?”

  “Yes, one. They went too far with la máquina. I heard the policemen talking about it when they were cleaning up his cell.”

  “What’s la máquina?” whispered Rosa in a thick voice.

  “They tie you to the bed and hook you up to it. Then they pass an electric current . . .”

  “Oh, my God!” Rosa exclaimed, covering her ears.

  Julia took Rosa in her arms and rocked her like a child. “Don’t worry, everything’s going to be okay,” she told her. Then she asked quietly: “Have you had news of Gabriel?”

  Rosa hadn’t had any contact with him since the previous day. She knew nothing about what had happened at Posadas Hospital or his plan for leaving Argentina. She was convinced there was no reason for them to suspect him. Except his relationship with her, since she’d been captured. Julia d
ecided not to tell her anything.

  “I’ll crack, I know it,” Rosa told her. “I’d rather take a bullet through my head and get it over with.”

  “That’s what we’d all prefer. But we’ll hold out, you and me. We’ll get out of here.”

  They heard the sound of boots, a key being turned in a lock, and the creaking of rusty hinges. The three women moved away from each other and covered their heads. They heard one of the guards bark: “Your turn today, you Trotsko piece of shit. Say good-bye to your youth, asshole. When you come back you’ll feel a hundred years old.”

  They heard blows and more abuse, then a long groan. Then there was silence.

  My God, don’t let it be Theo.

  For three days the women were forced to listen to Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” played at full volume through huge speakers placed in the corners of the courtyard to drown out the screams of the prisoners. Even the silence of the night after the torturers had gone could not dispel the horror and madness of it.

  Like the words of a prayer, Julia kept repeating to herself: We’re not like that. We’re not like that.

  18.

  THE CELL

  Austral Winter

  1976

  The washing method that Adriana taught them gave the girls some semblance of normality. Julia would remove the panel from the wall that held the flush in place, giving her access to the cistern, the only source of water for drinking and washing. A luxury as far as they were concerned.

  Adriana had witnessed the ordeal of a man who’d been brought back from the upstairs room. He’d cried out for water all night long. No one came. Unable to control his bowels, he had lain in his own excrement for two days until one of the duty policemen, a young colimba whom Adriana called Sosa, had finally taken him to wash and given him water to drink. The man had died soon after.

  Sosa had won the inmates’ respect. When he was on duty, they could talk to each other and pass on information. As soon as new prisoners arrived, the veterans made contact with them, from one cell to the next. The stories that made the rounds about El Loco’s interrogations, as described by the survivors, were intended to help them bear up under torture. The veterans also said that some inmates were in Castelar only temporarily. They spoke of another even more horrific place: Mansión Seré. People who were sent there did not come back. They all realized it was better to be interrogated by El Loco if they wanted to stay alive.