The Tragicomedy of Mefito and Tentorea

Protasis

The boy who puts his socks on inside-out when he plays tennis and who also studies telecommunications goes by the name Mefito González. The girl who speaks English, French, Italian, German and Austrian and who believes eating spaghetti with a spoon is a typical Neapolitan custom goes by the name Tentorea. They have never spoken to each other, but their fleeting gazes clearly indicate the excitement in their hearts. Today, finally, they are being introduced. They approach each other with their respective go-betweens, and, demonstrating an astonishing lack of originality, they greet each other:

“Hehlleollo.”

Yes, in keeping with the most deeply ingrained ancestral customs, the first word of love they speak to each other is “Hello.” What’s more, they have the foul luck of pronouncing it in unison (an objectively ridiculous thing). Under normal circumstances, Mefito would trot out the usual “Jinx!” (or some other expression along those lines) which usually resolves such uncomfortable situations. But something atrocious happens: he finds the timbre of her voice appalling; it screeches across his eardrums and causes him a pain so fierce that a pair of tears suddenly leap from his eyes. On the other hand, Tentorea receives Mefito’s “Hello” as a nauseating wave of vapour, which prevents her from pronouncing the usual redemptive “Jinx!” for fear of vomiting up the buttered toast she had for breakfast.

In fact, it is better this way, because, if it hadn’t been for his breath and her voice, they would have both said “Jinx!” at exactly the same time (an absolute absurdity, entirely without remedy) and their paths would have dovetailed forthwith. But let’s leave off conjecturing, because the fact is that her voice and his breath have just left them both speechless.

Tentorea runs home crying. Mefito stays where he is, horribly anguished. A beautiful love story can’t just go down the tubes on account of a hypersensitive nose and ears. There are two problems at this point in the story: the first is that Mefito’s friends don’t find Tentorea’s voice to be horrible at all, while among Tentorea’s friends no one finds Mefito’s breath offensive. Quite the contrary! So it is purely a subjective matter. And the second problem is obvious, though it might go unnoticed: Mefito has discovered Tentorea’s grating voice and Tentorea, Mefito’s halitosis, but neither of them have discovered their own defects. Thus, demonstrating altruism and philanthropy, they both, in unison (of course), write the following notes to each other:

My Dear and Recently Discovered Tentorea,

I have been meditating deeply and I have reached a difficult but undeniable conclusion: I love you more than I love myself, and I value my heart more than my hearing. I understand that without you, I’d go through life unaccompanied, or worse, in an empty partnership. I prefer to live deafly at your side than blind for never seeing you again. Don’t worry: we all have defects, and, although yours is a serious one, to me it is only a trifle. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, and I would do anything to be always by your side… Two plus two makes four, and one cannot fight the obvious: I love you, and we will surely find a solution to your problem. See you soon.

Infinitely yours,

Mefito

 

Caro Surprising Mefito,

I apologize for running off without saying goodbye, but you will understand that I wasn’t expecting such a shock to the sinuses. However, I’ve always believed that human beings have six senses: sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch, and Love. And for me, this last one is much more important than, say, the third. For someone like you, I would even trade the first five senses for an authentic and genuine Amor, such as your gaze promises and foretells. So let’s forget about your defect, and we’ll be happy. And remember: big problems call for big solutions. Dankeshön par tout et a rivederci,

Yours always,

Tentorea

 

Of course, the exemplary efficiency of our postal system is such that the two letters arrive at precisely the same time. The surprise on their respective faces is both logical and predictable. But this is how they each discover their respective terrible defects.

Epistasis

After three days filled with tears and telephone calls (obviously, smell is not transmitted by cable, and the telephone line provides a slight distortion to Tentorea’s voice, allowing Mefito to withstand it stoically for a few minutes), the two lovers meet again. They cast a long, passionate gaze on each other. And they realize that nothing will ever tear them apart.

Swept up in an inevitable wave of destiny, they decide to live together. They find clever solutions to their audio-olfactory problems: he begins wearing earplugs that transform his beloved’s voice into a gentle murmur, and she places special pincers on her nose that do not even prevent her from passionately kissing her dear Mefito. Also, within a few weeks Mefito and Tentorea start attending sign language classes offered by the Ministry of Education and Science, intended for the parents and relatives of deaf-mute children. And in just a few months, the daily annoyances of nose-pincers and earplugs are replaced by a fluttering of hands, in an amazing, complex, silent communication. Tentorea even manages to dream “aloud” with her hands at night, and Mefito learns an ancient Chinese technique for yawning without opening one’s mouth. The adaptation is impeccable.

They go on like this for years in silence, with certain matrimonial ups and downs, avowedly, but such as never manage to destroy their bulletproof love, until eventually they almost can’t remember their own voices. But one peaceful afternoon in autumn, a primordial dread resurges from oblivion: Tentorea has become pregnant.

A terrible disquiet appears, first in their eyes and then in their hands: it’s a delicate situation. The baby has to learn to speak, and if its parents don’t teach it, who will? But, what if the baby can’t stand the father’s breath, or the mother’s voice? It’ll never stop crying, and then of course it’ll never learn to speak… And what if the baby gets irreversible hearing damage? Or olfactory damage? Mefito and Tentorea look at each other, anguished, and in both of their minds (in unison, obviously) the same idea arises: but what if they can’t bear the child’s howling? Will it have a foul, stinking mouth like its father? Or will it have an unbearable voice like its mother? Or… both at the same time? Shrouded in silence, Mefito and Tentorea remain fixed in a mutual gaze, trying to suss out each other’s thoughts. Then a wave of panic suddenly overcomes Tentorea: Mefito is shaking his head insistently, and in slow motion, his hands are pronouncing a horrible message: yoouu haaave tooo getttt aann aaboorrrtiooon, Tenntooreaa, aannn aaabooortiooon…

Catastasis

Tentorea, her hands now mute but her face speaking clearly, takes a few steps backward. Mefito steps toward her in a vain attempt to embrace her and sees that a venomous resentment now fills her eyes.

He tries to convince her, persuade her, make her understand that it would be a mistake to have the child, but Tentorea, bewildered, can only point at the door and shout at him with her hands that she never wants to see him again. Mefito, despondent, stoops his way toward the door and, as he places his trembling hand on the tragic doorknob, he hears a window open, a body tumble and a scream quickly snuffed. And that’s when he realizes: her scream was not unbearable to him. He runs downstairs, out into the street and finds her on the ground, drenched in blood. Weeping, he takes her into his arms, and she still has time to hear him say I love you, and to realize that his breath smells just fine.

 

Pablo Martín Sánchez (Reus, Spain, b. 1977) has received various short story awards, published a book of short fiction, ‘Fricciones’ (E.D.A. Libros, 2011) and is the author of the novel ‘El anarquista que se llamaba como yo’ (Acantilado, 2012), selected by El Cultural as the best debut novel of 2012. He was co-opted by the Oulipo Group in 2014.

Jeff Diteman (Idaho, 1980) is a writer and a translator working from French and Spanish into English. His original work and translations have appeared in Nailed Magazine and Drunken Boat. His new book is Dnghu Kantos: the Poems of Popakos in Pseudo-Proto-Indo-European (Red Square Press, 2015).