The Envious Moon: A Love Story

By José Miguel Roig

In The Envious Moon Charles meets Cristina at Cornell University and they fall in love. She is an upper class Colombian, he is an American student. While on a visit to Bogot for their wedding arrangements, Charles is kidnapped by guerrillas. He spends three years in the jungle, maltreated, chained most of the time, his life permanently threatened. Eventually, Charles is converted to the guerrilla cause and becomes one more member of the group, an aggresive and pitiless fighter.
Charles and Cristina will meet again. She promised one night in Rome, while in his arms, that she would never love anyone as she loved him...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Jan 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493132560

José Miguel Roig

Jose Miguel Roig was born inSpain. He spent his youth in the Philippinesand has lived most of his adult life inVenezuela. He graduated from Cornell University,New York and is professor of History and Theory of Architecture at the Simon Bolivar University in Caracas. Roig has written and published novels both in Spanish and English. Some of them have been translated into French and Danish.

Book preview

ONE

1

What can be said about a young man who died? Nothing much. He didn’t live long enough. His life had no real sorrows nor great exaltations… except that he fell in love. But that’s not unique, everybody falls in love at one time or another. Some people have many loves, others have just one. This man, Charles McFarrow, was of the latter kind: he loved once, intensely, completely. Love has that quality. There are no half loves, either you do or you don’t. Furthermore, love is difficult if not impossible to describe, though hundreds of poets and philosophers have attempted to. There are of course, physical signs that are easy to recognize and those Charles felt: the heart accelerates, smiles are frequent and there is a pervading sensation of floating…

Yet it took him a while to fall in love. He was handsome and intelligent, so there were many possible candidates. His mother worried and tried often to fix him up with the daughters of her friends. Pretty girls, she would say, and the same as we are… she meant at the same social level, although she never specified it. She was conscious of her position: the wife of David McFarrow, a prominent judge in Cleveland, where they lived. A devout Catholic, she belonged to Saint Catherine’s Charity Fund and was a member of the board of the local art museum. They had two sons. David, who was three years older than Charles, a lawyer like his father and married with a child. He lived in Washington and worked for an Ohio senator, aspiring eventually to enter politics. Charles was a senior at Cornell University with a major in astronomy. He disregarded his mother’s anxieties and ignored all the dates she set up for him. He didn’t need help from anyone. He was too involved in his studies and sports and had no time for anything else. He had graduated from high school with the highest grades and was accepted by several of the universities to which he applied. He chose Cornell because it had a top-notch Department of Astronomy. He aimed to become the best in the field of space sciences. This had been his desire from childhood. He had all the books about astronomy that he could find. The walls of his room, both at home and at college, instead of the usual pinups and rock band posters, were covered with maps of the solar system and pictures of noted scientists who had discovered new planets and measured distances to stars. He longed to be like them. To let his mind wander in space and to dream of one day reaching the stars.

2

Charles McFarrow and Jorge Sanabria became friends. They took the same Principles of Law course, although it wasn’t a required subject for either of them. Sanabria, because it was compatible with majoring in Business Administration. McFarrow, because he wanted to please his father. It was all right for him dedicate his life to the study of the universe, but ultimately he would have to come down to earth, Judge McFarrow had told his son, and to have some knowledge of law would do him no harm. By mere chance, Jorge and Charles sat side by side. Jorge had arrived for the first lecture when it had already started. He swung the classroom door open and stood undecided on the threshold. The professor continued his lecture; most of his fellow students stared at him. He stepped in. The door slammed shut as he walked, with a tinge of arrogance, across to a seat in the centre aisle beside Charles.

Charles was North American, Jorge was Latin American. They were the same age. Charles was tall, broad-shouldered, blond and blue eyed. Jorge was milk white, fine boned and thin, with eyes and hair jet black. They were both in their senior year. Charles was on the Varsity Crew, Jorge played soccer. Charles belonged to ATO and lived in the fraternity house. Jorge had a rented apartment in College Town. At the end of that first class, they exchanged a few words. Jorge consistently arrived late and automatically took the seat beside Charles. After the fourth lecture, Jorge suggested that they have a coffee together. Charles would normally have declined, he had no time to spare, what with studying and training. This time he agreed, and they walked down the campus to the cafeteria in Willard Straight Hall. It was full of students. Jorge asked Charles to find a place to sit while he queued up for the coffee.

After the third sip, Jorge said: I can’t get used to this coffee.

Why not ? Charles asked, absentmindedly.

He was thinking of Homecoming Weekend. His mother had once again called to see if he was asking a girl over. There would be a big bash at the fraternity, and all the brothers had invited somebody. She had just the right girl for him: the daughter of a neighbour who studied at a women’s college near Ithaca. She was extremely pretty. And she was sure she could make a proper wife, though she didn’t say this. He had reached his senior year, soon would have graduated and there was still no one in sight. Once out of college there was the danger of his falling into unsuitable hands… But he didn’t pay much attention to her admonitions.

Jorge didn’t answer. He was intent on eyeing up the girls.

What will you do this Homecoming Weekend? he asked Charles, after a while, making conversation.

Nothing, answered Charles, and you?

Before Charles could reply, Jorge inquired, Isn’t your girlfriend coming?

No, he said. He didn’t explain that there was no girlfriend. Instead, he asked Jorge: And are you inviting a girl?

Yes, Jorge answered nonchalantly. You could say that.

Why, aren’t you sure?

Oh, yes.

And where will you go? Charles asked.

Show her the campus.

Do you belong to a fraternity?

No. Do you?

Yeah, ATO.

Is it good?

Frankly, I use it as a place to live. It’s more convenient, I have no time for housekeeping…

Why ATO? He didn’t know much about fraternities.

My father, interrupted Charles, he was ATO. It’s a kind of a family thing. Why didn’t you join one? You must have had offers.

I prefer to live on my own. I have a cleaning woman once a week. A little boring all alone. But I have lots of compatriots who are always inventing reasons for a party of one kind or another.

We are having a party at the house on Saturday, said Charles.

That could be fun, Jorge exclaimed, maybe…

Why don’t you come and bring your friend?

Jorge would most likely not come. From the scant words they had exchanged, Charles learned that Jorge went to New York every weekend. He had a Mercedes Benz, sports model, indigo blue. He would park it in front of the hall where they had their class, occupying one of the spaces reserved for professors. This didn’t bother him, he never gave it a thought. Once, he had had his car towed away by the police, he told Charles. What a pain in the arse, but he had arranged things neatly. After an animated conversation with the policeman in charge, he promised him two tickets to some Broadway show and that was that. He gave the impression of being on holiday rather than at college. He seemed like a capable student, although Charles had still to hear him comment on anything about the course they were both taking, or in fact on any course at all. He appeared to be one of those students who go through college making the least possible effort.

But will there be no other girls there? Jorge asked with a twinkle in his eye.

Sure, many, usually more women than men.

They finished drinking their coffee. Jorge had hardly touched his.

Awful coffee, he repeated. Colombia has the best coffee in the world. This is probably Brazilian…

They stood up. Jorge offered his hand ceremoniously. He was formal in his speech and gestures, even snobbish; but with Charles he was quite cordial. Charles was sorry now that he had invited him. Some of the brothers would find him conceited. But there would be plenty of people around and it didn’t matter. He himself wouldn’t be able to dedicate much of his time to Jorge and his girl. He would show them around and introduce them to a brother or two. He would be busy as he had volunteered to work behind the bar, helping with the drinks and the food.

You drink, of course, Charles said as they parted.

It was an affirmation not a question. And stupid, everyone drank.

Why? Don’t you?

Yeah, I’m not much of a drinker, a beer, two the most.

I detest beer. I drink wine, but don’t worry I’ll bring my own. I know at these parties…

No, you are wrong Jorge, there will be wine.

Still, I’ll bring mine.

True, the wine served at the fraternity wasn’t the best. It was cheap Chilean or Californian.

You know where the fraternity is? were his last words.

But Jorge had turned around and was walking away.

3

It was late and Charles McFarrow had forgotten his spontaneous invitation to Jorge. The party had been going for some time, the living room was packed with couples talking and drinking, some of them dancing in an adjacent room; the music deafening. He had been downstairs assisting at the bar, opening bottles, serving drinks. He had contributed enough to the evening and decided it was time to retire to his room. He had to get up early the next morning, there was crew practice and he had to be rested. Then the door of his room opened, and a brother shouted at him:

Mac, you have company.

Who?

Some Latino and his girl.

Tell them I’ll be down.

Charles got out of bed. He was in jockey shorts and T-shirt. He put on his jeans and took a quick look at himself in the mirror. He wore a crew cut, but still he picked up a brush from the chest of drawers, brushed his hair and went out to the corridor. It was an old Victorian house, the stairs were steep and he rushed down two at a time