Self-sustainable

Patricio Navia

March 28, 1999

Is he quoting famous people again? Mayra asks.

They simply laugh. It's as close to an answer as you can get.

With my strategy unveiled, I have no alternative but to counterattack. She loves it, I say. She loves it. She has loved it since the first night we met. I quoted Borges, she didn't know who Borges was. I probably said that Borges and García Márquez were the most outstanding Latin American writers of the century. "García Márquez is pretty basic," she said, "but Borges I don't know." I then went on to tell a story about Borges and forgot why I had quoted Borges in the first place. There is so much to talk about Borges that it is almost inevitable than once you mention him, the subject of the conversation changes and you start talking about Borges. But Mayra says I always change subjects when I talk.

A week after we first met, I went out and bought Ficciones, in English. I had talked to Mayra about Pierre Menard, Fumes, The Garden of the Forking Paths and Tlon. I dedicated the book to her using a phrase from The Garden of the Forking Path. I don't know the phrase by heart, but I can paraphrase it, life divides itself into an infinite number of paths, in one of them I am your enemy. When I wrote the dedication, I also added an invitation, let's go find our own bifurcation in life, together. I have always claimed that such a dedication implied a commitment, a lifetime commitment. She, on the other hand, argues that it was too vague.

I've done it again, when I mention Borges, I lose track of the story. Mayra interrupted me and unveiled my strategy. I was, indeed, quoting famous people. It might have been Borges. I counterattacked by claiming that she loved it, since the first time we met.

She smiled. "No I don't. I am just disappointed that you can't come up with your own stuff. Or maybe it is your own inventions and you simply attribute them to others so that you won’t be questioned. I figured you out," she said and then she probably added a flirtatious "sorry kid."

When she smiles, she shows her teeth. Her teeth have always reminded me of vampires. I told her so the first time she smiled. She pretended to feel offended. She wasn’t. I explained that rather than an offense, calling her vampire was a compliment. I proceeded to explain why. Vampires have the ability to confer eternal life to those whom they love most. In fact, they can only decide to kill or confer eternal life. They are divine in that regard. Huidobro (I also quoted him the first time I met Mayra) has a poem where he says that the poet is a little God, "el poeta es un pequeño dios." In a sense, vampires are too, I concluded.

"Smart, but not sufficiently convincing." She smiled again, that first time, and her teeth showed again. I fell in love with her, or at least I sank deep into infatuation. At the time, that was the first night, love and infatuation were exactly the same. Today, two years later, I know it could not be infatuation.

When she smiled, I smiled back. It was her teeth showing again. I looked straight into her teeth. She realized that I had won the first battle. And then she hit me on my arm. It hurt, but her smile was now mine, her vampire smile was mine.

This is a war, she was to tell me later. Yes, it is, I responded. This is a war and I am the invading army, setting camp outside your fortress city. I have surrounded the city and I am waiting for you to acquiesce. "Well, you'll just get tired of waiting, because I won't give up," she said and hit me again. Her teeth again. No, I am right on track, I said. It's just a matter of getting up every morning, march around the city, sing war songs and wait, wait. Then I should have sung the George Harrison song, it's going to take money, a whole lot of precious money, it's going to take time, to do it, to do it, to do it right. I didn't. It would have spoiled the entire occasion. It might spoil this story as well.

Is she quoting famous people again? She asked. With my strategy unveiled, I counterattacked. You just love it.

And you just love when I tell you "sorry kid."

Her retaliation to my counterattack was overwhelming. She knows it is true and I just wanted to be the besieged city so that I could surrender.

Yes Patricio, why do you always quote people?, somebody asks.

He always does that, to impress others, Mayra answers. Why Patricio, why? Who cares if you impress people! ¡Qué importa!

In the grand scheme of things that's irrelevant! I say, stealing one of her favorite sentences.

She looks at me, smiles (immediately stops), says "sorry kid" again, and leaves.

So, you have this messed up relationship or what? Somebody said. She loves the things she complains about and you love her when she reprimands you. You both need to see a shrink.

I just look at her and then say very calmly, "It's called self sustainable love. She just goes about being herself, I don't pretend to be anything I am not."

I think it sounds tacky and I continue trying to make it seem more intellectual.

The concept was really developed by the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund. It applies to sustainable development. Economic development has often come in waves and it has been usually caused by influx of international money. Countries need to develop an infrastructure that will generate sufficient growth to feed back into the national economy. It's like the old saying, if someone's hungry, don't give them fish, teach them how to fish.

I go on and on, I don't think I sound convincing enough. Besides, is that fish analogy proper? Do they use it in English? Am I just translating something that I remember my father saying when he preached? He is a pastor --in Spanish, pastor and shepherd are the same word--. What am I doing there? Where did Mayra go? Who are these people? If someone is hungry, why not teach her how to find a job and she will buy fish if that's what she wants to eat? Why should we determine what will a hungry person eat? Is that state interventionism? Where is Mayra?

I abruptly stop, excuse myself and go to get something to eat. The dialogue was boring, but I kept on thinking about self-sustainable love. Is our love self-sustainable? I asked Mayra later on that night.

Who cares? She says, ¡qué importa!

I just love it when you don't pay attention to my, my little vampire, I say and kiss her in her mouth. She pushes me away. Gross! That's PDA. And then she laughs. I hate that, she says, unconvincingly (I'd bet she loves that!).

I show her my neck. Kill me, I say.

Patricio!, she says, all sweet.

I think she loves me, but then how would I know? Besides, does anybody care?