Our Share of Night

by Mariana Enriquez

I believe we lose immortality because we have not conquered our opposition to death; we keep insisting on the primary, rudimentary idea: that the whole body should be kept alive. We should seek to preserve only the part that has to do with consciousness. Adolfo Bioy Casares, The Invention of Morel

He’d said it in English, “haunt me,” because there were no words in Spanish for that verb, not embrujar, not aparecer, it was haunt.

If he abandoned his son, Gaspar would grow into a furious and silent man, but the world is full of men like that.

“Because they use it to insult you, because people say ‘fag’ the way they say ‘moron.’ Because people are stupid and mediocre,” said Juan. “But you’re different, and I’m also different.”

“Ghosts are real. And the ones who come aren’t always the one you’ve called.”

You have something of mine, I passed on something of me to you, and hopefully it isn’t cursed, I don’t know if I can leave you something that isn’t dirty, that isn’t dark, our share of night.

That is also what it is to be rich: that contempt for beauty and the refusal to offer even the dignity of a name.

All fortunes are built on the suffering of others, and ours, though it has unique and astonishing characteristics, is no exception.

Sometimes, cheating death is the worst thing that can happen.”