A Christmas carol

Mariana and I sat down by the riverside. We’d taken a random boat from the ferry terminal and had ended up in Tres Bocas, where islands were joined by little wooden bridges and brightly colored houses lined up along the canals. Underneath the willow, sun shining through its branches that touched the water surface, we sipped mate and I realized that I was not in a hurry to get back to the capital. When I told Mariana that we could stay for one night, her brown eyes at once stopped begging and started to sparkle. Her last days in Buenos Aires would be spent breathing fresh air after all. If not in a cabaña on the beach with Claudio, then at least a night in Tigre with me. All of a sudden life seemed more attractive, and so did the waiter. After Mariana had ordered something to eat, “a picada, why not?” I asked him if the hotel next door was open for guests. It was extremely quiet for a holiday and it looked like almost everything had closed. The waiter had a better idea.

When Facu ended his shift at the restaurant, the last ferry to town had left and he took us to the place he had told us about so enthusiastically. He had not been exaggerating. In the huge unkempt garden stood a sign ‘camping privado’. On the edge of the empty old swimming pool we found Nelson. He didn’t seem as deranged as Facu had told us, just a bewildered looking big old man. Neatly and carefully we were introduced. The housekeeper agreed to have us stay for one night. The old villa was hidden among the pine trees. Nelson pointed at a window. “That’s where Evita slept, and Perón.” Colorfully tiled stairs led us into the house. It smelled dusty and a bit rotten, some old seventies furniture lining up along the walls of the main hall. But admittedly, the place was gorgeous and told stories of its days of decadence almost a century ago. Through the stained glass sunlight entered and gave the house a warm, gloomy atmosphere. We were shown to our room. Plenty of choice since we would be the only ones staying there. Two small beds and a window in between, with a wonderful view of the garden and the river. Nelson didn’t understand why we would choose this smaller room, but he agreed.

In front of the house stood a hotel they’d started building in the seventies but had never finished. The concrete hindered a full view of the river from the house but, overgrown with plants and trees, was somehow beautiful. It made everything seem even more surreal. Facu took us to his favorite spot, the terrace on top, covered in leaves and little pine trees, over viewing the water, with an old glorieta in the middle. Underneath the round iron crafted arbor stood a table. “Evita probably dined under this very glorieta,” he fantasized, and told us about the parties he wanted to organize there.

The last sunny hour we enjoyed swimming. The water was wonderful and Mariana looked fabulous in Facu’s shorts. I had to hand the mate over to her while she was still in the water. She didn’t want to come out. Hungry from all the splashing around, we went to freshen ourselves up in the villa. In the hallway a bat was flying around. Nelson introduced him as Tomasito and joked about being a vampire sucking on big toes. He was rambling a bit, and I laughed and nodded at him as he prepared the bathroom for us. Tiles were falling off the walls, and the water, which needed some time to become warm, was strangely salty. But we didn’t complain. It was all fine, I reassured him. By the time we finally had our shower, Facu was preparing the asado. Taking good care of us, he had bought some wine. He told us about the neighborhood, how it had housed intellectuals during the dictatorship. His plan was to offer tourists historical tours and to prepare the house and garden for open minded travelers. We dined underneath the glorieta and the stars, seated on the table, because there were no chairs. Lights from the other shore traveled across the river. It was a quiet and dark night, apart from the little candle and the three soft voices. What a pleasantly surprising Christmas day it had been, we agreed.

When Facu returned from the kitchen he looked worried. He sighed “I cannot believe this, what am I doing wrong, why do I always end up in some big mess?” Nelson had been drinking, he told us, and had gotten angry. Given al the care that Facu had taken, the old fool had surprised him with drunken aggressiveness. Nelson did not understand our choice of scenery for dinner. “He probably felt left out or jealous.” I tried to calm him, but Facu had already decided to abandon his plans. “The old man is too unpredictable. I cannot bring any more people here. I am sorry I dragged you into this.” I did not want to hear of it. Both Mariana and I loved getting to know this place where time stood still, and Nelson had not seemed that dangerous. Facu, however, did not want us to sleep under the same roof with “el loco.” He himself preferred to sleep surrounded by concrete, in one of the rooms in the unfinished hotel. Mariana, the romantic, wanted to sleep on the terrace underneath the stars, but she was already cold. All I wanted was a decent mattress. Not knowing what to do, we kept on talking. While Facu calmed down, I got a bit more worried. He turned out to be not the most stable young man, and I had felt secure before because I trusted him and his intuitions. A very good person, still, but maybe too good and therefore a bit disturbed. I didn’t mind being the psychologist for the evening, but reassuring him did not involve reassuring myself.

At last, very tired, we decided to just go to our room to sleep. Mariana and I held hands tightly when we went back into the villa. We held our breath when we passed Nelson’s room. As quietly as possible we went up the stairs, locked the door and got into bed. It didn’t matter that it smelled a bit weird or that the toilet wouldn’t flush.

The next morning the sun shone friendly, as if nothing had ever happened. Nelson was gone. We said goodbye to Facu on the ferry dock. This time Mariana did want to leave and I was dying to get back to the city.

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Fictie? • Florteña

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