Source Text
Mayra Montero
El Capitan de los Dormidos
El Capitan de los Dormidos
Translation starts
The Captain of the Sleeping
The three of us were in the truck and my father had already turned the
ignition on when a lady approached the window and called out my mother´s name. She
did it a bit shyly, as if uncertain that she recognised her.
Mum reacted with happiness, got out once more and gave the woman a hug.
They began asking about each other’s sisters and children, and I looked at my
father. It was vital that I looked at him. Dad felt my eyes, I think they
drilled into his temple and yett I continued to stare at him: his profile and
the lock of hair falling across his forehead, creased with worry.
“Mum is leaving” I whispered to him, gripped with anxiety.
“No. She´s just greeting a friend.” replied my father.
“She’ll leave with the Captain,” I continued, my voice barely a whisper.
His lips trembled and he gulped dryly, but he didn´t look at me.
“A lady who was in Martineau today told me to tell you that mum would
leave.”
He stared straight ahead, his face perfectly still. We listened to the
conversation between my mother and her friend, they talked about the hotel, the
blanket of dirt and grime from all the hustle and bustle, and about the noisy explosions.
“Dad” I pleaded. “Dad…”
They were now saying goodbye. My mother´s friend wrote her address on a
scrap of paper so that we would visit her the next time we went to San Juan. I sat completely powerless, sensing
the pain in my father´s breaths, his stony silence, the heat radiating from his
body, a bitter heat. It was in the darkness of the truck, that I realised we would
never return to Isla Grande.
Translation ends
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