ظاهر خوب، حال بد

CHAPTER FIVE

Looking good, feeling bad

Cristina opened her eyes and looked at her watch. It was six thirty in the morning. She tried to move but she felt bad. She felt her arm. It was very difficult to move.

She closed her eyes again. She couldn’t believe it. It was a very important day for her but she couldn’t get out of bed. It was now nearly seven o’clock and she still couldn’t move her arm.

Any other day she could stay in bed, but not today. Philippe Maudet was arriving in Buenos Aires in less than three hours and she had to give a talk about the exhibition at the museum. She had to get up.

Her arm felt better after a shower but hurt when she brushed her hair. She went into the small kitchen in her flat and made a large cup of coffee.

She didn’t usually eat much breakfast but this morning she felt that she needed some. She found some bread in the cupboard and put some dulce de leche on it. The sweet taste was really good. She walked back into her bedroom.

She was trying not to think about the accident but she couldn’t stop. She looked at the clock and saw that it was time to get dressed. She didn’t feel good but she wanted to look good.

She tried on a short black skirt. It didn’t feel comfortable. She usually wore that skirt to go out with her parents and it didn’t feel right today.

She tried on a brown suit and then a green jacket and skirt, but she wasn’t happy with them either. At a quarter to eight she decided on a pair of black trousers and a white shirt.

She went back into her small kitchen. Her arm was hurting a lot again. She took some medicine and then she wrote down a number from the book near the phone. It was her doctor’s phone number. ‘

Maybe I’ll call later about my arm,’ she said to herself. Then she left her flat and went to find a taxi.

On flight AF602 Philippe Maudet got up from his seat and walked down the plane towards the toilets. He didn’t feel good. It was difficult to sleep on the long flight. He cleaned his teeth, shaved, and washed.

That felt a little better. He went back to his seat and sat down to eat his breakfast. Only about two hours to go.

The man next to Philippe wanted to talk. Philippe smiled at him and answered questions about who he was and where he worked.

The man was a Porteno: he was born in the city of Buenos Aires. He wanted to tell Philippe everything about Buenos Aires.

They looked at a map of Buenos Aires while the man talked about his city and its buildings. He told Philippe about the different parts of the city that he must visit: La Boca with its colorful little street called Caminito, full of color and life - the small metal houses there are blue, green, red and yellow and the painters work and show their paintings in the street.

He talked about San Telmo and its old buildings - in the restaurants and theatres of San Telmo you can see tango dancers and hear the real music of Buenos Aires.

He talked about the Plaza de Mayo and the pink building, La Casa Rosada, where the President of the country works. He talked about the shops and the nightlife. ‘The city never sleeps: you can eat, drink and dance until the morning.’

They were arriving in Buenos Aires on 21 September, the first day of spring and Students’ Day.

On this day the students in Argentina begin their last part of the school year. Across the country the city centers are full of young people enjoying themselves. They walk around the parks and go to bars and restaurants.

Philippe was interested. He was looking forward to seeing Buenos Aires. People called it the “Paris of South America” and he was sure that he was going to like it.

Roberto and Carlos Bocuzzi were still asleep at seven o’clock that morning. Roberto opened his eyes and remembered where he was. He remembered that Cristina Rinaldi was still alive.

He closed his eyes again. He wanted to believe that he and Carlos were free, free to spend their money and live a good life without being afraid. He wanted to believe that Cristina was dead.

But he remembered every moment of the evening before in the gym. He was using one of the weights in the weights room.

Cristina was there in front of him, ready to lift a heavy weight. She was wearing grey shorts and a white T-shirt. She was slim and pretty. He could see her long dark hair around her head. Her eyes were closed. When she started to lift the weight, he moved nearer to her.

When the weight was right above her head, he ran forward and pushed the weight down hard. She opened her eyes and looked at him. She saw the weight falling and moved just in time.

The weight hit the floor. Then she shouted and people from the other room ran to her. Roberto left quickly and quietly. He remembered it all. He knew that she was still alive.

He got out of bed and walked into his brother’s room. He wanted to talk. They needed a new plan.