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inspire him to reflect. I think he’ll never be able to smile. His gaze could be that of a lunatic or a scholar, or a con-artist or someone who has suffered a great deal. But the truth is that every time I see him, I feel uncomfortable. It’s as if I were partly to blame for his present condition, his misery and – worse of all – it’s as if he believed I am really to blame. I know it’s nonsense. I can’t get him a job in my office; besides, he isn’t any good.
    Well then? Perhaps I know of other ways to help a fellow man. But what are they? Advice, for example? I don’t even want to think about the expression with which he would accept any advice from me. So today, after I told him no for the tenth time, I felt a wave of pity come over me and felt inclined to extend my hand with a ten-peso bill. He left me with my hand outstretched, stared at me (a very complicated look, although I think the main ingredient of it was, in turn, pity) and in that disagreeable accent of ‘r’s’ that sound like ‘g’s’ said to me: ‘You don’t understand.’ Which is absolutely true. I don’t understand and that’s the end of it. I don’t want to think about any of this any more.
Tuesday 2 April
    I don’t see my children very often. Especially Jaime. It’s curious, because it’s precisely Jaime whom I would like to see more often. Of the three, he’s the only one with a sense of humour. I don’t know how valid affection is in the relationship between fathers and sons, but the truth is that, among the three, Jaime is the nicest. But, in counterpart, he is also the least transparent.
    I saw him today, but he didn’t see me. It was an interesting experience. I was at Convención and Colonia saying goodbye to Muñoz, who had accompanied me that far. I saw him walk by on the pavement in front of me with two others, who had something disagreeable in their demeanour or their attire; I don’t remember exactly which, because I was especially focused on Jaime. I don’t know what he was saying to them, but they were laughing wildly. Jaime was serious, but his expression was of satisfaction, or maybe not, maybe it stemmed from his belief in his superiority, of the clear dominance which at that moment he was exerting on his friends.
    Later that evening I told him: ‘I saw you near Colonia today. You were with two others.’ Perhaps I was mistaken, but it looked like he was blushing. ‘A friend from the office and his cousin,’ he said. ‘It looked like you were really amusing them,’ I added. ‘Ugh, those two laugh at any nonsense,’ Jaime replied.
    Then, I think that for the first time in his life, he asked me a personal question, a question that addressed my own worries: ‘So … when do you think you’ll be able to retire?’ Jaime asking me about my retirement! I told him that Esteban had talked to a friend about expediting the process. But he can only do so much. And besides, before anything, I inevitably have to turn fifty. ‘And how do you feel?’ Jaime asked. I laughed and limited myself to a shrug. I didn’t say anything for two reasons. First, I
still don’t know what I’m going to do when I retire, and second, I was moved by Jaime’s sudden interest. Today was a good day.
Thursday 4 April
    Today we had to stay late again. This time it was our fault: we had to look for a discrepancy. And there was a big problem in choosing those who would have to stay. Poor Robledo was looking at me defiantly, but I didn’t choose him; I prefer to let him think he has authority over me. Santini had a birthday party to attend, Muñoz has an ingrown toenail that has him in a bad mood, and Sierra hasn’t been to work in two days. In the end, Méndez and Avellaneda stayed. At a quarter to eight, Méndez approached me very mysteriously and asked how much longer we