Scarred Face Page 5

  What was less obvious, was the fact that Mrs. Carmela, after having purchased the periodical magazine Clarin, had given the salesagent, an extra 20 pesos, to pay for 2 more packets of stickers.

  If two plus two makes four, these packets weren’t neither for her, nor for Mr. Ortega, then they surely were for Alfredo. This, then would conclude that Alfredo was a collector himself. And this is what Guglielmo figured out and had later tried to clarify with the one involved, Alfredo:

  - Why have you kept it a secret that even you have the sticker album?

  -Because I don’t have it – argued Alfredo a bit hesitantly

  -So, who were they for, those two sticker packets that your mother bought today from the newsagent? – persisted Guglielmo.

  And precisely, who were they for?

  This time Alfredo was caught out red handed, and he didn’t require any spoken explanation for his silence to prove his innocence. He had to get out of the situation, and do so, as soon as possible. But to do so, he needed an idea, which given the situation at the time, had to be an extra good idea.

  When Alfredo had practically given up and was about to spill the beans, and idea came to his head, rightly so, to save him. Certainly not the best of ideas, but at least it was something....:

  - Ok, well, I can tell you now: I wanted to give them to you as a gift.

  - A gift? For me? – said Guglielmo astonished. This time it was his turn to be taken by surprise.

  - Ah yes, a gift for you, as a compensation for all the times that Luz has ripped out the stickers from your album. I’ve asked mum to buy a few packets for you, and she did.

  Guglielmo was filled with affection for his friend, and shame because he had suspected Alfredo in the wrong. He was stupefied as only a few seconds ago a bit of suspect had crossed his mind. It had crossed his mind that perhaps the stickers were being pulled out of the album by his friend Alfredo and his gang.

  How could he ever suspect his best friend?

  -You have to forgive me Alfredo.

  - What do I have to forgive you for? For being my friend? – he said..... or else because you’ve made me so fully ashamed of myself, as even I, collect the stickers, and in my room, I too enjoy pretending I am the radio-commentary of the World Cup. But all this, was going on in Alfredo’s thoughts and he didn’t give way to his emotions. He only showed a big fake smile to Guglielmo.

  -Come, lets go. Let’s get home so I can give you the packets. If we’re in good luck, maybe we find Rensenbrik, or Dirceu or better still Krankl.

  -Krankl? I wish! It’s not easy to find that one! – urged Guglielmo excitedly. And having said that, the two young boys walked up the hill of Avenida Loberia, which took them right across the street of Plaza Dardo Rocha, and directly into their neighbourhood.

  Their neighbourhood was a weird one, a difference from the American city with its towering skyscrapers and as a contrast the rural villages with houses so tiny and packed together that it was a miracle that they actually stayed standing. Exactly in the middle of the town was a little square with a low concrete wall, which, during the feast of our Lady was nicely decorated with garlands of bright red roses.

  When Alfredo and Guglielmo jumped over the wall quickly, all that had remained from the decorations was just the memory and a few dried flowers and a couple of blue and azure flags which still swayed cheerfully with the breeze. A couple of meters away from the wall, was the house of Mr. Ortega and his family.

  -Wait here for me. I’ll just go in to get the stickers and come back – said Alfredo.

  Once inside his home, his mother, Mrs. Carmela, was quite astonished to see him home so early. In fact, she even asked him if he was unwell or something. And then she realised, that there was for sure something out of the ordinary when she saw him come out of his room, with the newly purchased stickers in hand, saying that these were going to be thrown in the rubbish bin.

  - Oh Dear God! Then give me back the twenty pesos that I have spent on them – yelled Mrs. Ortega to a slammed shut door right in her face. She was left with a headful of thoughts; she was wrecking her brains to find out an explanation to all this puzzlement:

  - Oh come on, you tell me why should he behave like this: first he nags me endlessly by telling me he wants to start this sticker album collection, then he begs me to buy the stickers for him, not one, not two, but a whole bunch of five packets, because he wants to complete the album before his friends do. Finally, I buy him four packets, whereas his father buys him two, so all in all, this adds up to six packets. And what does he do? He throws them in the garbage!! Ah, that blessed boarding school!!

  - Here, take them! – urged Alfredo

  - Are you sure that I can have them? – queried Guglielmo.

  Alfredo, frowning more than ever, exclaimed:

  -Not only can you have them, but you must, they belong to you!

  - So, I can open them straight away? – asked perplexed Guglielmo, still in disbelief that he was getting the stickers.

  And even this torture of all these questions he had to endure.

  -Of course you can! – he sighed.

  As the one who plays with fire is the one to get hurt, so’s what happened to Alfredo. When the first packet of stickers was being ripped open, the first thing visible was first the moustache from the right and then to the left, of the top striker. The one with the name that has a clanking noise to it: Johann Krankl.

  Six goals are not achieved that easily for anybody, not even for Walter and the rest of his agile gang. When the six goals of one team oppose the zero of the other team, the whole match starts to resemble the actions of a successful organisation.

  Mixing all these happenings together, and adding the fact to it, that this was a match that was being played during the World Cup, and that the losing team, the one with zero goals on its charts (and six conceded) had deployed amongst the eleven players, even for the legendary Teofilo Cubillas, then it was futile resembling a successful organisation, a miracle would be more like it.

  That miracle had given to Argentina the opportunity to offer the lucky seventy thousand people that had purchased the ticket to go see the World Cup Final’s match at the Monumental stadium of Buenos Aires the coming 25th June. And to the millions more, that instead of having purchased the tickets, opted to listen to the radio and TV.

  Luz remembered correctly: placed right on top was the book with the blue cover, then the thick small one in a yellow coloured cover, and finally, an old poster of a Western movie. Underneath all that stuff, was Guglielmo’s sticker album with the shiny flags.

  Today she had all the freedom she wanted, because her brother was accompanying mum at the doctor’s and her father was quiet, alone in piece, well almost completely quiet, he was snoring happily in his bed. So, away with the blue book, away with the yellow one, and with massive attention, as cautious as a fox, careful not to tear it, out came the movie poster. And there it was, she’d managed to retrieve it.

  Stealthily, with steps like those of a secret agent, she went straight to her room. She wanted to make sure she wasn’t neither seen, nor heard. Once in her room, she headed for her bed. She shoved to the floor, a couple of dolls and a skirt to make room for her precious catch.

  And just like a newly discovered treasure chest, Luz started flipping through the pages, and was left utterly in awe. She admired each and every face in the sticker album her imagination running wild; on the ones that were wearing a white t-shirt, she could draw some green beautiful flowers, whilst on the ones wearing a blue t-shirt, she could draw some parallel lines of yellow and pink.

  Then all of a sudden, she flipped the page and came on a blank sheet, an empty one with shadows of the outline where a sticker had been in place. Like when you have a picture frame stuck to a wall for a very long time, and then you remove it, what you’re left with, is a thin shadow outlining the frame, only it’s been imprinted on the wall: were these the empty places that Guglielmo was blaming her for?

  But how
could he think like that?

  How could he think that she was capable of doing such a thing? Of not letting anybody see those faces, touch those eyes, touch those mouths and smile back at those smiling faces that were watching them.

  She would never do such a thing, and if somebody had indeed found any pleasure in doing something so horrible, then this somebody was nothing but a disgustingly malicious person, somebody without a heart, or somebody that had a heart of stone.

  The key turned in its lock, the door handle turned down and two voices were heard, one of a woman and the other of a boy. They’d returned home earlier than expected. The look on the boy’s face said it all:

  -Luz! What are you doing with my sticker album!

  Nothing came to Luz’s mind except to say the truth and ask her brother:

  -Why are they doing this to your sticker album?

  And quietly she turned the album to face him and she showed him the page where the Austrian player Krankl was supposed to have been.

  But Krankl wasn’t there, even he had vanished, left nothing but a sticker outline imprinted on the page, gone, nothing left but a white empty box.

  - Here’s another drinking straw. – Hugo had his arm extended for the umpteenth time, holding a colourful drinking straw. Now, underneath Miguel’s desk, was a whole mountain of straws, a huge pile, that was going to be used for building the outside frame in the shape of a cross, of the kite that according to Walter, had to hold the weight of the beaten and mashed up faces of Rensenbrik, Rossi and of the latest arrival to the collection, Krankl. All scar-faced.

  -Now who’s this one here? – asked Miguel pointing at the sticker of the Austrian player, that Alfredo had triumphantly turned up with.

  -What do you mean, who is he? This is Krankl Johann, born in Vienna on the 14th February 1953, in the 70/71 season in force of Rapid Vienna, the consecutive year ..... – but Miguel quick to cut him off. He didn’t give him time to finish:

  - Ok, yes, it’s good. Anyway, this one or the other, it doesn’t make any difference.

  - Aren’t you curious to know how I’ve managed to snatch it from the album?- he boasted. Then he continued:

  - Listen here: I took advantage of the moment when the album was left on the staircase just for a second, at the...... - Alfredo began to say, but at that moment Walter cut him off by saying that how the sticker was obtained was not anyone’s business. He didn’t care as to how the sticker was taken just from underneath Guglielmo’s nose:

  - And now, my dear Alfredo, I am under the impression that this whole sticker snatching affair is taking you a bit too far. It will do you good to go a little easy on it.

  At that moment, the wicked idea of flying the kite on the day of the famous flea market, La compra sul Mar, came up:

  -Why don’t we tie the three scar-faced stickers to the kite, and fly them all together on the day of the compra, and to them we...... - Walter started, but paused mid-sentence to stare at his friends. He wanted to let his words sink in, just like an actor does before he carries on with his line, in order to have the attention of the public.

  -And? – asked the whole group.

  - and our beloved matador!

  - No! Do you really mean to nick the sticker of Kempes? – asked Miguel in disbelief.

  -Not me, but Alfredo will do it for us! – and in that moment, for an endless interminable second, Alfredo was faced with a situation that he’d already been in before. Facing his next decision was an important move. He had to choose of either siding on his friends’ side, or else for making a shift into the adult world. With the only difference being, that this time, the choice was going to be his, and his alone.

  And coldly Alfredo made his choice, to leave behind the child in him and move, body and soul, to the adult world; a world of vendetta, arrogance, and of hearts that follow the best situations offered.

  -Actually, you know what: Miguel hand me the pen, so I take care of these three – and with black pen in hand he began circling spectacles, and drawing black teeth, transfiguring the faces of the unsuspecting football players.

  Whilst Miguel’s desk was about to burst with all the drinking straws he’d accumulated, Guglielmo’s room was cluttered with newspapers and these were scattered all over the place. For some unknown reason, Mrs. Maria Laura had been asked by her son, to buy at least one newspaper each day. Reason being was that ‘the teacher wants us to be informed about what is happening in the world’; obviously this was nonsense, only a big fat lie. Because only a slightly careless teacher wouldn’t figure out that it’s been over a month that not even one newspaper, even if they were paid in gold, wouldn’t publish anything other than news related to football goals, tactics and team formations. Therefore, it was pretty obvious that there was another reason as to why a newspaper had to be bought every day.

  - Will you tell me what you’re up to with all these newspapers? – asked Guglielmo’s mum tentatively. But it was all in vain, as Guglielmo was resilient, always giving the same answer: that the teacher had requested it, nothing more but a home assignment.

  Maria Laura was certain but, of one thing, and that is, that there had been a change in Guglielmo ever since that day when he had come home earlier than expected and found his sister Luz with the sticker album in her hands. He’d become more suspicious, less bright and happy, and even, harder to admit, was, that he’d become less and less talkative.

  -Why don’t you try talk to him? - asked Maria Laura to her husband Raul.

  -What makes you think that he’d say anything to me when he’s still pissed off with me because he thinks I’m covering up for Luz. Forget about it. He’s just going through a particular time, he’s growing up, we’ve all been through moments like these.

  -Do you think so? Listen, the other day I rummaged in his secret hideouts.

  -But why? Why did you go through his stuff? Maria Laura, you shouldn’t have done that! You know very well that if he finds out, we lose any possibility of ever having a conversation together with him. He will lose his trust in us. And if nothing else, it is not right!

  However, even though Raul said that, he already hinted that he’d started to resign on Guglielmo’s new attitude towards everyone. Almost as if he’d given up, so to say, on the old Guglielmo that he knew before.

  But Maria Laura couldn’t do that. She couldn’t accept the fact that Guglielmo was in such a situation, so she insisted:

  - You’re right, but try to understand and forgive me: I’ve done this because I love him, I care about him – and in a flash of a second, her face flushed red, her dark eyes widened, and filled with tears, those same eyes that had melted his heart and lost his head in love for her.

  - No, don’t cry, don’t do that – her husband tried to console her, but by then she was already in tears and hiccupping until she finally revealed something shocking: inside that drawer, amongst the missing stickers, which were later filled out with newspaper cuttings of the players, that he so mysteriously had been demanding for, something else was found.

  He had been asking lately for the newspapers only to cut out the faces of the players of which its sticker had gone missing from his album. Amongst those cuttings, there was a photo of Guglielmo and his little sister. This picture was taken a couple of years ago when we were at the water park Riva al Mare. In the picture, the face of sweet little Luz is horribly scribbled over and completely ruined.

  That the year 1978 was going to be a particular one for the Argentinians was well intuited by the majority, but the fact that, that year the big flea market event, had to coincidentally happen on the same day as the finals of the world cup, with the Argentinian national team playing in the pitch, right in Buenos Aires, well, that was quite admirable.

  The big flea market day was a major event. It had withstood the test of time, the new trends, and even the various governments that had commanded the country. Even this year, it was going to delight the children and the parents, that were strangely happy in finding a way of quick
ly getting rid of their childrens’ unwanted toys: tradition had it that the toys were sold on the beach situated at the outskirts of the city, all the old toys (or considered as such) were sold and with the money gained from them, together with a few more pesos, some new toy would be purchased.

  -Aren’t you feeling a little anxious for the next 25? – Carlos asked Guglielmo.

  -Yes, well, I’d say I am a bit – replied slightly unconvinced Guglielmo.

  -Listen Guglielmo, you can confess to me: what’s the matter? Is there something bothering you?

  Sometimes only a little is required for somebody to open up his heart and pour out his feelings, and this time, a simple question was able to do just that:

  -What do you want me to tell you?!: I could tell you that I cannot stand Luz any more, or that my parents are always picking up a big fuss as to why I’m quiet and ‘Guglielmo cheer up’ and ‘Guglielmo don’t be sad’ blah blah blah. Or else I could tell you that I’ve had enough of the World Cup, of the players, of the stickers, of Walter, and of everything.....

  Carlos didn’t have anything to say, after all his words had a habit of getting him into a fight, but he’d had the impulse of thumping his friend hard on the shoulder with his big hand, and winking he’d said to him:

  -A friend in need is a friend indeed – when nobody is around I am still going to be here for you- and as a weird coincidence, he had barely finished talking when a ship that was entering port, sounded its shrilling horn to announce its entrance, and the wind began to blow.