Short War

The following is from Lily Mayer's Short War . Mayer is a writer, translator, and critic. She is a contributing writer at the Atlantic , and her translations include Claudia Ulloa Donoso's story collections Little Bird and Ice for Martians . She lives in Washington, D.C. The thought of Dr. Lucas in Cuba clouded the May Day march for Gabriel. So did Andrés's foul mood, though he was walking ahead with Nico, letting Gabriel guide Caro through the packed streets. Andrés's blond head bobbed past flat wool caps and bright knit hats, glinting between a pair of toddlers waving red flags from their fathers' shoulders. Gabriel envied Andrés's height. Also Andrés's dad, Cuba or no Cuba. He'd rather have a father he could admire than one he saw every day. Caro held his hand tightly as they waded deeper into Plaza Bulnes. Bodies surged around them, close and warm. Gabriel smelled body odor, unbrushed teeth, unwashed clothes, seared meat, the harsh chemical sweetness of gasoline. The presidential palace loomed at the square's far end, white marble glittering despite the lack of sun. The windows were all shuttered, and the center balcony had no speaker system set up for Allende to address the crowd. He must not be in La Moneda. Gabriel was disappointed for Caro—and, he supposed, for the workers that May Day was meant to celebrate—but he recognized that the president was extremely busy. Though he rejected his dad's idea that Allende had no more military support, it was true that the radio constantly reported Army unrest, discontent in the copper mines, union leaders declaring allegiance to the right wing. What kind of union rejected Socialism? It made no sense. The demonstration was bigger than the plaza. Marchers spilled down side streets, forked around La Moneda, clambered onto statue plinths and streetlight poles and road barriers. Drums and tambourines jangled on all sides, and someone kept banging a gong. Its brassy echo hurt Gabriel's temples. His scalp buzzed with awareness of the bodies pressing behind him, moving him on. A woman in front of him twirled her plywood […]