RSClef16

It was barely warm as we got out of Kabe´s VW and crossed the parking lot towards Terminal A, seeing that Diego had booked a flight on American rather than Aerolineas. With the deaths of Diego´s siblings, ( half-siblings presumably but no one is too specific about the details with me ), in what had been a pile up caused by a speeding van flipping over on Ruta 9 near Marcos Juarez, the whole inheritance had been left to Diego. We were watching footage of riots in Seoul on TN24 when the phone had rung. It had been Diego´s lawyer in Cordoba, the provincial capital. Isadora´s answers let me know that the inheritance had been settled and there was no need for us to go to Cruz del Eje. As Diego´s legal representative he had accepted the judge´s settlement and would be meeting us in Buenos Aires. She repeated an address, somewhere downtown and after a few rhetorical flourishes ( No please, to thou I give my greetings ... No, please, Thank you ... No ... the pleasure is mine .... etc ) she had hung up the cordless phone. I had been very curious to say the least.

What´s his name again?
Cagnazzo Vukovich.
So ... it´s settled ... ?
It´s Diego´s money Allard.
I know that! ... I just wanted to know!
No me gritas loco.

We had argued some more, using each other as sounding boards to try and suss out if this lawyer from Cordoba is pulling a fast one with Diego´s inheritance. Surely the accident had occurred after the will had been paid out. I had checked La Voz del Interior´s web site but had found nothing. I finally turned up a brief item in La Mañana de Cordoba´s site and the details meshed with what we had been told. The accident had happened about a week ago so had there been enough time to renegotiate the will in front of a judge? It seemed fishy and it left me and Isa unsettled and uncertain of what had been arranged and how much Diego knew about all this.

We stop to let a taxi and then the shuttle bus to the Sheraton pass by and we then cross over to the sidewalk in front of the terminal. My own feeling was that Diego should accept whatever offer Cagnazzo made him if it was at all reasonable. It might be tricky even dangerous to contest the will. I think Isadora feels the same way but I´m trying not to dig too deep. She´s feeling a lot of crosscurrents - Diego wants to buy a house in Mardel and we´re all supposed to live there, for example. Me, Isa, Diego her ex, and Oriana, their daughter. I push through the revolving doors and try not to obsess on how things will change the minute Diego walks through the arrivals door. Oriana hangs back to take a call, then struts through the doors and we all head to arrivals. Kabe goes to buy some juice, telling us he´ll join us in a minute.

Oriana squeals and rushes to hug him. His hair is shorter than in recent photographs but still quite long. He crushes my hand and tenderly kisses my cheek. Kabe, who´s a touch taller even than Diego, shakes his hand casually and smiles. And finally Isa ... yes Isa made the trip at the last minute. She laughs nervously sharing a little joke with him I can´t quite understand and then lamely tries to resist his bear hug but ends up smothered in his long rangy arms. I retreat a step or two without even thinking about it and find myself standing next to Kabe. He had opened up a little more on the nearly five hour drive up the Autopista del Sol. Married in Tel Aviv with a ten year old son. She was an immigrant as well from Novgorod and Moscow, who had then moved with her family to Israel. I hadn´t been able to resist; it was too delicious. I had mentioned Pushkin and had expected a frosty look from Kabe but he had raised his eyebrows approvingly and had said,

Yes it´s true. His great grandfather was Ethiopian, a prince.

Isadora had looked at both of us half-puzzled and then shifted the conversation with a question about his son. Kabe was looking forward to seeing him again but it seemed a little odd. Why was he here rather than in Tel Aviv where it would be easier for him to work as an architect? Rather than a plumber or whatever the hell he did at the site. Isadora doubted that he could get work as a professional. Not in Argentina. So we all smiled at each other, everyone behaving differently towards each other now that Diego was here. Some smiles more awkward than others. Kabe lifts one of Diego´s bags helpfully when a short mustached man in a suit approaches quickly.

Diego Barolo?
Y ... si.

They shake hands and hug. How the hell did Cagnazzo Vukovich find us here? I don´t recall giving him the flight number. Did Isa? It must have been Diego. Cagnazzo greets the rest of us with measured optimism and efficient little flourishes. He´s a small town lawyer, even if he´s from Cordoba capital. And I think he wants to get Diego alone in his car; perhaps to settle some details. Was Diego expecting all this? I look at Isadora who´s aware of my quick stare but doesn´t return it. She´s chatting with Cagnazzo and trying to feel him out. Oriana´s beginning to look bored. We walk towards the doors with each of us holding one of Diego´s bags, except Oriana who´s got a small backpack of his. Cagnazzo managed to pry one of the bags from my hands. He chats quickly and softly with Diego as we cross the parking lot. Diego and Oriana head to his Honda Pilot and Kabe, Isa and me return to the Beetle.

It´s a small office on Suipacha, two flights up. An older building renovated in the eighties I´d say but with a few more recent touches. Cagnazzo is guiding Diego through the paperwork indicating where he has to sign. Two airconditioners leave the office rather cold and I pull my windbreaker back on despite an irritated glance from Isa. Kabe has taken Oriana to Recoleta and we´ve agreed to meet at La Biela. Isadora couldn´t think of anywhere else off the top of her head. It´s been a while since we´ve been able to come to Buenos Aires. She had put away some of the gold money just for this trip. The inheritance should change things but it´s for Diego and Oriana and perhpas some for Isa. There I go again. I shouldn´t bother imagining what we might get but when you´ve been desperate for cash and suddenly all this happens ... you day dream a little. Diego signs one last piece of paper and then Cagnazzo takes the pen and hands him an envelope smiling eagerly. It seems to be done and I shift in my chair and wait for someone else to do something. I´m even less in charge now.

Villa. Country. Villa. Country. We´re around Quilmes, heading back to Mar del Plata on highway 2 and passing through that mixed suburban scenery of shantytowns punctuated by gated communities with clay tennis courts and custom built homes. And lush greenery everywhere. I´m exhausted and buzzing from the various coffees we´ve drunk. The check was cashed at HSBC´s branch on Alem and an account was set up for Diego ... I think. I didn´t even bother asking. It seemed to be a large sum. We shopped and ate and Diego insisted on paying for everything, although Isa managed to pay for the coffee at La Biela. Oriana had a laptop. Isadora some clothes and a camera and Diego had insisted I buy a guitar. I resisted as politely as I could but we agreed to look for something back in Mardel. Isadora had insisted on sitting in the front seat so I was squeezed next to Diego with Oriana on the other side. Around Chascomus Oriana had bundled herself up against Diego and had fallen asleep. I leaned against the window and tried to nap. The car was now quiet. Kabe had turned down the radio and was chatting with Isa with Diego interjecting comments occasionally. We drove past the lakes that surround Chascomus and as we moved south through dark fields lined by sprawling copses of eucaplyptus and willow trees we felt like a family, coming home from a long day of shopping in the big city. An illusion at best but this was my world now. The people in this little car, that would fold like a tin can in any sort of accident, was what I had. And I barely knew two of them.