Selected Cronicas

TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE

I got into a taxi but before it could drive off, a young man appeared, young but with thinning hair which was already flecked with grey. He popped his head through the window and inquired:

— Are you by any chance going my way?

I told him I was heading for Copacabana. He then asked me in a plaintive voice: Would you mind giving me a lift? I live in the same direction and at this hour it’s impossible to find a taxi. I told him to get in. He sat beside the driver. Turning round in his seat, he then proceeded to bombard me with endless chatter: he was married and extremely happy; he did not mind in the least that his wife was beginning to age because he still loved her dearly, and he had sent her some roses that very morning. No, it was not her birthday or some special anniversary, simply to tell her that he loved her … Well, well — I thought to myself — here is one man who deceives his wife at the first opportunity.

All this talk about conjugal love was beginning to get on my nerves, not to mention that unctuous voice of his, as he lied through his teeth about his private life, oblivious to my lack of interest. Suddenly he announced: You can drop me off right here. The taxi came to a halt, he got out, popped his head through the window and had the affrontery to whisper in my ear:

— The lady is a perfect gentleman.