Siempre es el padre

By the door were two softdrink machines that had been tilted over into the floor and opened with
a prybar. Coins everywhere in the ash. He sat and ran his hand around in the works of the gutted machines and in the second one it closed over a cold metal cylinder. He withdrew his hand slowly and sat looking at a Coca Cola.
What is it, Papa?
It's a treat. For you.
What is it?
Here. Sit down.
He slipped the boy's knapsack straps loose and set the pack on the floor behind him and he put his thumbnail under the aluminum clip on the top of the can and opened it. He leaned his nose to the slight fizz coming from the can and then handed it to the boy. Go ahead, he said.
The boy took the can. It's bubbly, he said.
Go ahead.
He looked at his father and then tilted the can and drank. He sat there thinking about it. It's really good, he said.
Yes. It is.
You have some, Papa.
I want you to drink it.
You have some.
He took the can and sipped it and handed it back. You drink it, he said. Let's just sit here.
It's because I wont ever get to drink another one, isn't it?
Ever's a long time.
Okay, the boy said.

Lo que copié es uno de los tantos momentos altos de The Road, seguramente la mejor novela de Cormac McCarthy. Hace poco vi la película, que tiene sus plus también, como la escena donde adaptan este diálogo. Yo no sé cómo, pero acá la peli trasmite algo que la novela no: uno se da cuenta de lo distinto que es tomar de esa latita para el padre y para el hijo. Para uno es pura novedad; para el otro, prácticamente toda una vida de recuerdos. Casi seguro que no es mérito del pobre Viggo Mortensen, un dechado de inexpresividad; de repente es algún truco de cámara o edición, pero lo cierto es que en esta ronda la ganó el cine.

A todo esto, creo que en un post viejo habíamos discutido sobre la centralidad del padre en las grandes  novelas. Bueno, esta es otra prueba. Go Cormac Go.