Negrita
For Ingrid.
Marcos is a photographer and was driving back from a photoshoot with a client when suddenly — THUNK!!
Marcos: Oh no, damn it! He gets out of the car to see what happened, and at that very moment a girl’s voice cries out: Negrita!!
He stands up and sees the girl.
Marcos: Hi there.
The girl: Have you seen my cat?
M.: Eh… yes.
Girl: Where is she?
M.: In a nice place. A pleasant one.
Girl: Where?
M.: She… she’s gone on holiday.
Girl: How do you know?
M.: She told me.
Girl: My cat doesn’t talk.
M.: No, no — she wrote to me.
Girl: Cats have claws, they can’t hold pens.
M.: Right… it was a photo — she sent a postcard. She’s traveling around the world.
Girl: Where’s the postcard?
M.: I left it at home.
Girl: Are you trying to trick me? Are you a kidnapper?
M.: No, I don’t want you coming to my house.
Girl: I want to see it.
M.: Yes, of course. I’ll bring it if I can find it.
He gets back in his car and the girl watches him drive away. He picks up the cat, which he had put in a bag, and when he gets home he tosses it in the bin, grabs one of the many postcards he has lying around, and drives back to the girl’s house.
Girl: Did you bring it?
M.: Yes, of course! Yes! It’s in here somewhere… I can see it, here it is.
Girl: The writing is hard to read. Can you read it to me?
M.: Of course. “Dear…” — can’t make out the name.
Girl: Pili!
M.: Dear Pili, I forgot the address… and asked this man, who is not a kidnapper, to give you my postcard. The weather in India is lovely and there are lots of rats to eat; they sell them as takeaway food. Lots of love. Mrs. Negrita.
Pili: Is it really hers? She’s not in the photo. When is she planning to come back?
M.: It doesn’t say.
P.: I suppose she’ll write again tomorrow.
M.: I don’t think so.
He goes home, retrieves the cat from the bin, washes it, and once it’s perfectly clean props it up next to his drying laundry to dry. The next day he goes back to Pili’s house.
M.: Here you go.
P.: She looks very strange.
M.: Yes, probably sunstroke.
P.: What does it say?
M.: “Dear Pili: as I told you, I’m enjoying my holiday…” — Then he stops reading, because he spots the mother stepping outside, crossing her arms and watching to see what he does. He looks back at her pleasantly, and the girl says:
P.: And what else does it say?
M.: Oh yes, of course! Something about going to Europe afterwards.
P.: To Europe?
M.: Yes, but I’m sure we’ll get another postcard tomorrow telling us more. Until tomorrow, Pili.
P.: Alright! Until tomorrow, Marcos. Adéu.
M.: Adéu.
Back home, being a photographer, he has postcards from cities all over the world, and what he does is dress up the little cat differently to match each city, then goes to Pili’s house the following day to show her — and so on and so on.
M.: “Dear Pili: traveling is wonderful, except for the jet lag. When I arrived in Europe I was tired and smelled awful. But now I feel much fresher. I’ve met many interesting characters and have been to some very odd places. Italy was fun. And Amsterdam very relaxing. I bought some fur in Paris — synthetic, of course. I went to London to visit the Queen; she has a great many horrible dogs, but it’s fine — I made a run for it. Much love. Talk soon. Mrs. Negrita.”
Pili turns to her mother and hugs her, moved, since now they’re both listening together.
M.: Now I’m in Scotland. Last night a cat named Ginger asked me out. I hope you’re well, Pili. Love you. Mrs. Negrita.
The next day he arrives at the girl’s house with this last postcard — but finds Pili and her mother playing a water-throwing game with a man, all of them having a wonderful time.
He sits quietly for a moment, starts his car, and drives home. Thinking it is all over, he digs a small hole in his garden, buries the cat, and places a bunch of pretty flowers on top.
The next day he goes back to Pili’s house, gets out of the car, walks toward her, sits down beside her, and says:
M.: Hi, Pili.
P.: Hi, Marcos.
M.: This is the last one.
P.: What do you mean? — She asks, quite serious.
M.: “Dear Pili. I’ve decided to stay in Scotland. I’ve fallen in love with the cat Ginger. You’ll be happy to know that we got married yesterday. I’m very happy, but I miss you terribly. And I think about you all the time. With love. Mrs. Negrita.”
P.: Is that it?
M.: These things happen. People change. And so do cats.
P.: I know that, silly. — Very cross.
M.: What’s the matter?
P.: Tomorrow’s my birthday and she hasn’t wished me happy birthday.
She storms off and leaves him alone. Marcos goes home. When he arrives, he stops and stares for a long moment at the spot where the little cat is buried.
The next day — Pili’s birthday — he gets in his car, drives over, parks a little way from the house, and walks the rest of the way. Suddenly he runs into the same man he saw playing with Pili and her mother.
M.: Hi, I’m Marcos. I’ve brought a present for Pili.
Friend: Marcos, the cat killer.
M.: No, it was an accident. I didn’t…
Friend: I’m joking. I’m Luis — Pili’s uncle.
M.: Very good. — They shake hands.
Luis: The girls are waiting for you.
M.: Great.
L.: They’re out back. Follow your nose and you’ll find them easily… adéu.
M.: Adéu.
When he appears at the garden party, Pili spots him and runs toward him in her costume, beaming.
P.: Marcos!!
M.: Hello — and who are you?
Mother: The dragon-slayer! — In a dragon voice, watching Marcos happily.
P.: Is it for me?
M.: Yes.
While Pili pulled at the wrapping paper to uncover the gift, a sound came from inside the box. The mother gave Marcos a curious look as her daughter finished opening it.
M.: I want you to know, Pili, that something happened to Negrita. She had kittens and she wanted you to keep one. If your mum agrees.
P.: Of course. — Says Pili, cradling the little cat in her arms and bringing it close to her face, moved, as a single tear rolled down her cheek.
PARA INGRID