Pares cum Paribus Nº 4: Índice - Facultad de Ciencias Sociales ...

UNIVERSITY OF CHILE
FACULTY OF SOCIAL SCIENCES
Susan Musgrave
SPANISH VERSION
PARES CUM PARIBUS No. 4
FALL-WINTER 1997
I told you when I came I was a stranger
"I am looking for adventure because action raises my blood pressure, giving me enough
energy to live," I wrote, the day I stopped covering the trial. Five Americans and eighteen
Colombians had been charged with attempting to smuggle 30 tonnes of marijuana into
Canada. When they'd run out of rolling papers, they'd brought their ship in for supplies on
the west coast of Vancouver Island. A sympathetic jury acquitted; I quit my job at the
newspaper. And when Paul walked out of the courthouse, wearing an unbleached linen
suit and a T-shirt that said I SCORED, I offered him a ride.
We knew little about each other. For me, mystery and unknowing was energy also. We
crossed the border with Leonard Cohen singing It's true that all the men you knew were
dealers who said they were through with dealing every time you gave them shelter on
KISS-FM. In Sudden Valley we camped by a fire in the night and drank white rum from a
bottle inside a bag. Paul showed me his tattoo - a pair of faded lips, as if a ghost wearing
lipstick had kissed him above his left nipple. I kissed his lips. In the morning we flew the
Whisperliner Jet Service to Atlanta. I'd signed on for the duration.
In Miami Beach we danced in a cabaret where two blonde sisters sang other people's
songs, then made love, that first night, in a vegetarian hotel. When we checked out, the
desk clerk told me even if you take a bath every day you can't wash your heart.
I remember the day so clearly because it was the first turning point in our life together. At
the Bounty Hotel in Coconut Grove I overheard Paul on the bathroom telephone talking to
his former girlfriend in Texas: he said she was giving him a big erection. As my mother
would have said, "the honeymoon was over". I thought of turning back as I walked the
streets alone, back to the predictable life I'd left, my husband asleep in his overstuffed
chair, empty wine glass in hand, and "Emotional Rescue" turning soundlessly on the