Fish Soup by Margarita García Robayo, translated by Charlotte Coombe (2018)
Fish Soup by Margarita García Robayo, translated by Charlotte Coombe (2018)
Better Than Me
‘I lost them both,’ said Orestes, self-absorbed.
‘What did you say?’ said Yara.
‘There’s not even a word to describe my situation,’ he went on. ‘Children without parents are orphans, but parents without children, what are they? Bad parents?’ (74)
Something We Never Were
When Salvador asked Eileen to be his girlfriend, she said no. She was having none of that boyfriend and girlfriend crap; what she was interested in was questioning certain paradigms. And seeing as all Salvador wanted to do was sleep with her, he decided not to contradict her (87).
‘Do you want me to explain what Nietzsche said?’
‘Not really.’
‘It’s nothing special, I don’t even know why that guy mentioned it, it’s hardly related to my script.’
Salvador rubbed his neck.
‘…and it’s not Nietzsche’s idea anyway, he got it from the Stoics.’
‘Mm-hm.’
‘Anyway, what he proposes is a repetition of the world, i.e. that the world ends and then rebuilds itself so that the same acts occur again, without any possibility of variation.’
‘That’s absurd.’
‘No, it’s a cycle. Simple. It’s like saying day and night, the moon and the sun, the seasons…’
Now she seemed irritated.
‘Mm-hm.’
Eileen drank her beer, blinked slowly, then took his hand.
‘And Nietzsche said that it’s not only acts that recur, but feelings too.’ He had heartburn, it must have been the beer. Or the cigarette. ‘In other words, if the world ended today, tomorrow you and I would fall in love again.’
Salvador wanted to burp, but he held it in (91-2).
‘Eileen,’ he said, ‘I don’t understand you.’
‘What don’t you understand?’
‘Anything you say.’
Eileen pulled away from him.
‘You don’t understand that the destruction of the non-condition is equivalent to the condition?!’ she roared (94).
Sexual Education
The thing with my sister was more complicated. In a nutshell: word was going around that my sister was a bit of a slut. Well, that’s what I heard people were saying at school. Actually, that’s what Dalia told me people were saying at school. Because nobody would dare say it to my face. Not because they were embarrassed or felt sorry for me, but because they were afraid of how I would react. If anybody came up to me and said, ‘I heard your sister’s a slut,’ I’d tell them, ‘Well, I heard that every morning your mum pops three unripe bananas up her pussy and when she takes them out they’re cooked, that’s how much of a horny bitch she is. And do you know what she does with them after? I heard she mashes them up and serves them to you for breakfast.’ If they tried to dob me in to any of the teachers, simple: I denied everything (120).
Lucía’s shirt was pulled up, showing her incredibly white tits, bigger than I’d imagined, with tiny, pinkish nipples. Mauricio was sucking on one of her nipples with his eyes closed, using one hand to knead her tits and the other to touch her under her skirt. Lucía had her gaze fixed on the door through which her mother might appear if she woke up from her nap. She had her legs spread, hanging off the arm of the lounger. Her hands were clenched into fists, but then she pushed Mauricio’s head down and he went under her skirt and held her thighs open with his hands. I could hear what sounded like a dog licking something. Lucía was making short, sharp movements with her hips; she jerked up and down as if she was gnawing away down there with tiny chipmunk teeth, as if she was trying to swallow Mauricio’s entire head in little nibbling motions. I tried to stand on tiptoe to get a better look, but I almost lost my balance and was afraid I was going to fall. I carefully climbed down off the bidet and sat on the toilet (123).
However, you couldn’t help thinking how little faith the catechists had in chastity. Their message was clear-cut: you must be chaste. But devoting the next lesson to abortion was like admitting they had failed.
What this revealed was that sex was a redeemable sin; which is why trying to persuade girls not to do it was stupid. A redeemable sin, God knew full well, was the proven method used by many to become Saints. There is nothing more profitable to a religion than a repentant sinner. With chaste girls, it was the same: one day the miserable creature sins and sleeps with someone, gets pregnant, feels guilty and then gets married. From then on, she leads an impeccable life: the sin of sex is redeemed by entering into a life of holy matrimony (129).
Better Than Me
‘I lost them both,’ said Orestes, self-absorbed.
‘What did you say?’ said Yara.
‘There’s not even a word to describe my situation,’ he went on. ‘Children without parents are orphans, but parents without children, what are they? Bad parents?’ (74)
Something We Never Were
When Salvador asked Eileen to be his girlfriend, she said no. She was having none of that boyfriend and girlfriend crap; what she was interested in was questioning certain paradigms. And seeing as all Salvador wanted to do was sleep with her, he decided not to contradict her (87).
‘Do you want me to explain what Nietzsche said?’
‘Not really.’
‘It’s nothing special, I don’t even know why that guy mentioned it, it’s hardly related to my script.’
Salvador rubbed his neck.
‘…and it’s not Nietzsche’s idea anyway, he got it from the Stoics.’
‘Mm-hm.’
‘Anyway, what he proposes is a repetition of the world, i.e. that the world ends and then rebuilds itself so that the same acts occur again, without any possibility of variation.’
‘That’s absurd.’
‘No, it’s a cycle. Simple. It’s like saying day and night, the moon and the sun, the seasons…’
Now she seemed irritated.
‘Mm-hm.’
Eileen drank her beer, blinked slowly, then took his hand.
‘And Nietzsche said that it’s not only acts that recur, but feelings too.’ He had heartburn, it must have been the beer. Or the cigarette. ‘In other words, if the world ended today, tomorrow you and I would fall in love again.’
Salvador wanted to burp, but he held it in (91-2).
‘Eileen,’ he said, ‘I don’t understand you.’
‘What don’t you understand?’
‘Anything you say.’
Eileen pulled away from him.
‘You don’t understand that the destruction of the non-condition is equivalent to the condition?!’ she roared (94).
Sexual Education
The thing with my sister was more complicated. In a nutshell: word was going around that my sister was a bit of a slut. Well, that’s what I heard people were saying at school. Actually, that’s what Dalia told me people were saying at school. Because nobody would dare say it to my face. Not because they were embarrassed or felt sorry for me, but because they were afraid of how I would react. If anybody came up to me and said, ‘I heard your sister’s a slut,’ I’d tell them, ‘Well, I heard that every morning your mum pops three unripe bananas up her pussy and when she takes them out they’re cooked, that’s how much of a horny bitch she is. And do you know what she does with them after? I heard she mashes them up and serves them to you for breakfast.’ If they tried to dob me in to any of the teachers, simple: I denied everything (120).
Lucía’s shirt was pulled up, showing her incredibly white tits, bigger than I’d imagined, with tiny, pinkish nipples. Mauricio was sucking on one of her nipples with his eyes closed, using one hand to knead her tits and the other to touch her under her skirt. Lucía had her gaze fixed on the door through which her mother might appear if she woke up from her nap. She had her legs spread, hanging off the arm of the lounger. Her hands were clenched into fists, but then she pushed Mauricio’s head down and he went under her skirt and held her thighs open with his hands. I could hear what sounded like a dog licking something. Lucía was making short, sharp movements with her hips; she jerked up and down as if she was gnawing away down there with tiny chipmunk teeth, as if she was trying to swallow Mauricio’s entire head in little nibbling motions. I tried to stand on tiptoe to get a better look, but I almost lost my balance and was afraid I was going to fall. I carefully climbed down off the bidet and sat on the toilet (123).
However, you couldn’t help thinking how little faith the catechists had in chastity. Their message was clear-cut: you must be chaste. But devoting the next lesson to abortion was like admitting they had failed.
What this revealed was that sex was a redeemable sin; which is why trying to persuade girls not to do it was stupid. A redeemable sin, God knew full well, was the proven method used by many to become Saints. There is nothing more profitable to a religion than a repentant sinner. With chaste girls, it was the same: one day the miserable creature sins and sleeps with someone, gets pregnant, feels guilty and then gets married. From then on, she leads an impeccable life: the sin of sex is redeemed by entering into a life of holy matrimony (129).