Valentino accepted the tie to marry Mercedes. Since the end of high school he had promised himself never to tie his tie again. to the neck. But marrying the beautiful Mercedes was worth breaking that personal oath.

The girl was the heir of the Acarraga, and the party took place in the infinite family room, with its historic center and fields as floral decorations. The creamiest of the tall spheres of jet set Argentine, Uruguayan and Chileanfrom both business and entertainment, including some highly select personalities in politics.

A calf, unaware of the event, was waiting, tied to the gate, to be slaughtered and to make the wedding duck. He seemed to look at the crowd in the same way as Valentino: there was nothing he could do.

Valentino had resigned himself to saying yes to the exuberance of Mercedes. Her blossoming buds, his step, the premonition of her hips, the thickness of her lips, the wisdom in love with him. Which of those gifts could he say no to? It was a lamb destined for slaughter.

Mercedes had mentioned the wedding: Valentino had accepted, bowing his head and putting on his tie. That fateful morning of the proposal had woken him with an impossible sweetness. How could he refuse that glare, as much as he distrusted the idea of ​​marriage? The innocent opulence of his charm, the coolness of his skin: they were his destiny. How to avoid them? Neither in space nor in time.

Valentino was the accountant of one of Acarraga’s father’s companies, all dedicated to the meat business, from live beef to distribution and retail.

The guests watched the beautiful mother-in-law with hidden admiration; women with camouflaged envy. Valentino had been warned that in his mother-in-law’s stamp he should predict his wife’s future. So there was the rope for at least another 20 years.

Acarraga had promised to slaughter the calf and Mercedes had assured the 375 guests one by one that no one roasted like her father.

This being the case, Alfonso Acarraga, the father-in-law, called by Valentino, lit a Tuscan cigar, drank a sip of burning water – a thistle liqueur he called accursed water – and said incoherently to the boy: his son-in-law and accountant: – The calf, talk.

Valentino was slow to react, half enveloped in the Tuscan smoke.

“I don’t understand,” he replied, confused.

“The calf,” insisted Alfonso Acarraga, accepting the perplexity of his son-in-law. The calf we have to slaughter, which I will slaughter. Speech. The calf speaks.

Valentino wondered if his father-in-law was totally drunk, on drugs or if he had lost his mind. But nevertheless he asked, out of inertia: -What are you saying?

“Don’t let them kill her,” revealed the father-in-law, as if expecting the question. Don’t kill me, Don Alfonso.

– And what we do? -Consulted Valentino, thinking whether to call Same, warn the mother-in-law, or Mercedes-. Someone had to take care of Alfonso, and another person from the barbecue. None of the steps were easy.

“Come with me,” said the father-in-law, and Valentino followed him.

The calf was tied to the entrance gate, through which no guest passed; everyone had seen it when they arrived. Beside her, the stubble that had brought her was still standing, with the ramp. He is a sulky man with two indifferent horses.

“Don’t kill me, Don Alfonso,” said the animal to his father-in-law.

Valentino fell to the ground. He regained his upright position by brushing the dirt off his pants and, unlikely as it was, adjusting the knot of his tie.

This was not a trick, nor an illusion, nor a shared hallucination. The calf spoke.

“Don’t let it kill me,” the calf told Valentino. My name is Margherita.

“I can’t slaughter a talking animal,” confessed Alfonso. In fact, the ranch business is in crisis as of now. I don’t know what you guys are going to live on …

“I work, sir,” Valentino stood up. But that was the least of his problems at this point. Mercedes had to be warned.

For some reason, the bride’s reaction didn’t surprise him. He first he wanted to deny the reality, but in the end they put it at odds with the Spanish-speaking calf. So she blamed Valentino.

– You taught him to talk. You never wanted to get married. This is your ploy.

“No, my love,” replied Valentino. I couldn’t have done it even if I wanted to. We cancel the roast, we only have the party with the pans.

– How do I cancel the barbecue? Mercedes sobbed. How do I cancel the roast? I have been promoting it for months, I have anticipated it to each guest upon arrival. Cut her tongue and grill it!

When Valentino approached the animal, Margherita’s gaze was unfathomable. The groom thought for a long time. The father-in-law wandered through the countryside, getting lost in the distance, absorbed in his thoughts, drinking cursed water. With great effort, Valentino unhooked the cart from his sulking. With drive and will, Margherita climbed the ramp. At that crucial moment she fell silent.

Valentino has recovered his sulk, with the calf on board. As the horses drove away, the fleeing groom tried to guess what the future held. But it was as unfathomable as the calf’s gaze. I should hide it somewhere until I figure out what to do.

For now he has taken off his tie and dropped it on the grass, like an involuntary track, abandoning it, to the rhythm of a tired but unstoppable horse.

wd