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Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussion of child sexual abuse, child death, child abuse, graphic violence, physical abuse, substance use, addiction, sexual content, mental illness, emotional abuse, death by suicide, self-harm, suicidal ideation, and death.
Mechi works at the Chacabuco Park Development and Participation Center, managing Buenos Aires’s archive of missing children. Two other women, Graciela and Maria Laura, deal with the public, such as speaking with the families of missing children when they come to search the archive, while Mechi attends to the archive itself, fetching files and organizing information. The work is solitary, but Mechi is good at it and enjoys her job. Most of the children in the file cabinet are teenage girls, who perhaps ran off with boyfriends, fled abusive home lives, or were kidnapped and “disappeared in prostitution rings, never to resurface, or to resurface dead” (122). In moments when Mechi has the office to herself, she sometimes “daydream[s] about the children” (121), and she keeps files for children who have been found in a separate file cabinet.
Part of the reason for Mechi’s interest in and dedication to her job comes from her friend Pedro, whom she met five years earlier when she went out for a drink after work. She didn’t fit in with the rest of the after-office crowd, but the lack of attention from “the clean-shaven guys wearing suits and cologne” never bothered her (123). One night, however, she was reading alone at a table when Pedro sat beside her. He was a police reporter at a local newspaper and talked to her animatedly. Mechi was surprised when he asked for her phone number and even more surprised when he called the next day and invited her for another drink. They went back to his apartment afterward, where they had sex that confirmed what both had already suspected: “they weren’t attracted to each other” (124). However, this was the start of their friendship. After years of covering Mafia crimes, Pedro began writing lengthy essays investigating cases of missing children. Shortly after, “[a]lmost like a strange coincidence” (126), Mechi took over the archive, transforming it from “a pile of messy papers that no one paid much attention to […] into a treasure” (126) that quickly became Pedro’s “obligatory consultation.”
When Pedro’s investigations helped the police arrest one of the men behind a prominent sex trafficking ring, Pedro became well-known across the country, appearing on news programs and talk shows. He often mentioned Mechi in interviews, but she was never called on for television appearances.
When Mechi peruses the files of missing children, she often notices that the photos families provide are “almost always terrible,” making their children look “ugly” or “deformed” (127). The one exception is a girl named Vanadis, who is “almost the only real beauty in the whole archive” with her “dark hair and almond eyes” (129). The girl was caught performing sex work and sent to a reform school, from which she ran away. She hasn’t been seen since, but a variety of people stop by the office with information about her or notes and tokens to pass on to her if the girl is ever found. Mechi’s interest in Vanadis’s case borders on an obsession. One afternoon, Mechi is carrying the file and a photo of Vanadis falls out and is caught by the wind. Seeing her face on the sidewalk for a moment, Mechi is sure the girl is okay.
One day, a girl called Loli, one of the “addict kids” who lives in the ruins of the Caseros Prison, comes to make a report about Vanadis. Loli explains that she went to the Constitución Station late one night in desperate need of money. She saw no possible targets for mugging until Vanadis walked by. Loli brandished a broken bottle, but the other girl gave her 30 pesos without a fight, telling her not to be “lame” and to ask her for more money again. Loli felt “strange,” as if she hadn’t actually stolen from Vanadis. Some time later, she ran into Vanadis again. The girl reminded her that she wasn’t allowed to rob her again, and when Vanadis smiled at Loli, she fell in love with her. They begin spending time together, and Loli imagined that she might get off drugs if Vanadis loved her back. Vanadis worked a lot, mostly in Constitución. The trans sex workers in the area generally didn’t appreciate competition, but they left Vanadis alone. Loli wanted to report a pair of “weird” johns who took Vanadis to a hotel room and filmed while she had sex with them. When she asked what they were going to do with the videos, they threatened to kill her. Loli thinks that maybe the men took Vanadis, and she wants to report it. Loli thinks that she will die of her addiction now that Vanadis is gone.
Vanadis’s beauty is commented on frequently, and Mechi often visits the girl’s MySpace page, where she receives messages from friends and admirers almost daily. One commenter, a tattoo artist called Negative Zero, often leaves messages that seem truly heartbroken. Mechi is curious to learn more about him, but she worries about giving Vanadis too much “special attention” and forgetting about the other lost kids.
A year passes, and Mechi’s work generally follows “its usual rhythm, distressing but routine” (137). Pedro visits every couple of weeks to gather information, but he is drinking more than usual, and Mechi often feels “embarrassed” by his shouting and loud laughter. One day, however, Pedro calls Mechi to report a tip: a grainy cellphone video showing a girl’s body being loaded into a truck. When he tells Mechi that the girl “looks like a model” (139), she immediately shows him Vanadis’s file. She hasn’t mentioned her obsession with the missing girl and brushes off Pedro’s curiosity when he wonders how she pulled out the right file so quickly. She fills him in on Vanadis’s story and lets him copy the file. She insists that she doesn’t want to see the video, despite being filled with “morbid curiosity.”
Mechi waits anxiously for Pedro to update her on the case. The next day, she goes for an early lunch as a distraction, but crossing the park, she sees Vanadis sitting on the steps of the fountain. Mechi recognizes the girl immediately; she is dressed exactly like one of her photographs, as if the picture were “brought to life” (142). Vanadis smiles at her when Mechi says her name, revealing “crooked, yellow teeth” that are “the only thing that disturbed her beauty” (143). Afraid of losing her again, Mechi brings Vanadis back to the office. Graciela and Maria Laura are shocked and delighted to see Vanadis. They bring the girl a coffee and ask her questions, but her responses are noncommittal. Soon, Vanadis’s family arrives, “fainting, sobbing, and shouting in a reunion of demential celebration” that Mechi finds “strange” because they hadn’t seemed particularly concerned about the missing girl before (143).
As the excitement dies down, Mechi remembers to call Pedro. She tries to tell him about Vanadis, but he immediately interrupts with a story of his own. His editor sent him to Rivadavia Park in the Caballito neighborhood, where a woman recognized a missing boy called Juan Miguel González. Three months ago, the boy had been found dead after being run over by a train. The mother had a panic attack when she heard the news and refused to see the child. Pedro tells Mechi he is “scared shitless” and finally stops talking long enough for her to tell him about Vanadis. He can’t believe this new piece of information, but Mechi insists the girl “seems a little weird” but is undoubtedly Vanadis (146).
Things soon escalate to “an unprecedented level of hysteria” as missing children reappear in four parks scattered across Buenos Aires (146). Some of the children are mere babies, unable to speak about their ordeal, but even the older kids are mostly silent. The children don’t seem to recognize the families that come to retrieve them, but they go with them anyway “with a meekness that was somehow even more disturbing” (146). A number of “crazy theories” are offered to explain the sudden mass reappearances, but none of them are satisfactory. In the case of Juan Miguel, the media pass his parents off as “poor drunks” who misidentified the boy who had been hit by the train as their son. The rest of the cases are “normal,” and the reunions with their families are “practically happy endings” (147).
In the second week of reappearances, the sense of “euphoric bewilderment” is replaced by “a muffled dread” (147). One girl, Victoria Caride, appears in Avellaneda Park after five years, looking exactly the same as the day she vanished, down to her hairclip; however, no one “dare[s] to mention” this lack of change (148). Another girl, Lorena López, was five months pregnant when she disappeared, but she turns up a year and a half later, still five months pregnant with her first child. Two weeks after her family takes her home, they “return” Lorena, insisting that she is not really their daughter. While the family waits for the results of a court-ordered DNA test, a boy known as Buckaroo appears in Rivadavia Park. Buckaroo was a well-known runaway and was seen frequently picking pockets on Avenida 9 de Julio. However, he had been hit by a bus a year before. The bus had crushed his chest but left his face intact, leaving no doubt that it was the same boy. Another boy was eight when he disappeared, and he reappears five years later, still eight years old. Mechi decides “she [can’t] take any more” (150).
Mechi has Pedro over for dinner to tell him her plans to quit. Leaving her job will mean moving back in with her parents, but they are delighted at the prospect. Mechi suspects that the apartment’s owner won’t harass her over the damage she has done to the place or even the last months of rent she owes. A “depressive indolence” has seized many since the kids began returning, and “[p]eople [are] behaving very strangely” (152). The city is quiet, and people rarely go out. They especially avoid the four parks where the returned children live. At first, the people would bring the children food, which they accepted happily. However, it soon became clear that they never ate or drank, but “[n]o one wanted to talk about that” (152).
Mechi and Pedro order pizza, which doesn’t come sliced anymore ever since the children returned, and Pedro complains about how the children’s reappearance ruined his investigation into trafficking rings, making it seem like it “wasn’t real.” He plans to sell the video of Vanadis’s body to a TV show and use the money to leave the country and escape Buenos Aires. Mechi tells him that she read online about a Japanese belief that only so many souls fit in the afterlife; when it is full, they will start coming back to the world of the living, which “heralds the beginning of the end of the world” (154). Pedro urges Mechi to flee with him, offering to lend her money, but she refuses. She is committed to staying in the city to “see what it was that had to happen” (155).
Mechi’s boss understands her resignation, but when Mechi returns to the office to gather her things, Maria Laura throws a paperweight at her and threatens to kill her, blaming her for bringing Vanadis to the office and starting everything. Graciela is on psychiatric leave, and Maria Laura screams that she is “going to end up sick,” too, all because of Mechi (158). Mechi hurries out with the few things she managed to gather, feeling that “Maria Laura would have been capable of killing her” (158).
Mechi’s parents are “a little checked out” but eager to ask Mechi questions about the returned children (156). They live in the nice neighborhood of Villa Devoto, far from the parks and the returned children, and the distance is a relief for Mechi. However, when her parents turn on the news after dinner, Mechi retreats to her room. All the channels are repeating the story of a mother and father who died by suicide after their daughter, Marisol, returned. Marisol had run away after her father hit her during an argument, and when she returned, three years later, her injuries were still fresh. Even though their fight was laid out in the missing girl’s file, the media ignored these unexplained details in what Mechi saw as an act of “cowardice.” She often became frustrated with the media’s refusal to address the strangeness of the children’s reappearance, but now that the signs were becoming impossible to ignore, “the hysteria was extreme” (160). Marisol’s parents shot themselves in bed, leaving a suicide note that read: “That is not our daughter” (160). Marisol left the house after the gunshots, and the neighbors pursued her “wielding sticks and rocks” (160).
During the day, Mechi thinks it is wrong for parents to refuse to take their children back. The children might be “monsters,” but “it was unfair for them to have to sleep outside like animals” (161). At night, however, she thinks of Vanadis and knows that she, too, would reject one of the strange children. Amid growing tension after Marisol’s parents’ suicide, the returned children begin a “migration.” Over the course of several days, they form “processions” in the middle of the night and march through the city in silence, stopping traffic as they go. Pedro emails Mechi to tell her that the processions reminded him of Parisians moving their cemeteries to the outskirts of the city in the 1900s. They had carted bones across the city by night for years, just as the children seemed to be doing.
Mechi agrees that there is “something religious” about the children’s migration, but their destination—abandoned houses across the city—is “strange.” The kids from Rivadavia Park split into groups of 300, and each group goes to a different house. Vanadis leads a group to a bricked-up house in the middle-class neighborhood of Cafferata, where residents panic, “incapable of comprehending any interruption to their comfortable lives” (166). Despite the house being boarded up, the children enter easily, “as if the bricks didn’t exist” (164).
Although Mechi is afraid of Vanadis, she feels a strong urge to speak to the girl. Determined to get answers, she takes the bus to Cafferata. The neighborhood is guarded, but the “pale and trembling” police officers let her through without a question (166). She approaches the house and calls Vanadis’s name until the girl comes out of the house. She can see that Vanadis recognizes her, but her heart is pounding so loudly that she struggles to speak. Vanadis tells Mechi that she and the other children have no desire to go back to their families. Looking like “a single organism” (168), the children say together that they will stay in the house until summer comes. Just then, a police officer holds Mechi’s shoulders from behind. Startled, she turns, prepared to hit him, but she sees that he is frightened like herself. He begs her to leave and begins pulling her away. The neighbors also begin shouting at Mechi to leave, and she breaks free of the officer’s grip and begins to run, determined to leave the city before summer; she wants to be gone “before the kids c[o]me down” (168).
Paula can never tell the difference between nocturnal butterflies and moths, but she knows that nocturnal butterflies disintegrate when they die. Sometimes their bodies accumulate inside her lampshade, and the burning smell prevents her from sleeping. One night, however, Paula wakes to a different type of burning smell. She climbs out of bed, looking for the source of the smell, and sees firetrucks outside. She learns later that a “bedridden woman” had fallen asleep while smoking a cigarette. Paula wonders what it would be like to burn to death; she also wonders if the woman had fainted, or if she watched with a certain relief as the fire consumed her bed. The doorman interrupts her thoughts to tell her that the fumigator will be visiting their building, and Paula thinks she will let him in, even though “[s]he was the only living thing in her house” (171). The moths come in from outside, so they won’t be affected.
Back in her apartment, Paula goes to her bed. Her sheets smell like the chicken cutlets she made for dinner the previous night. The chicken had frozen to the inside of the freezer, and Paula had to dig them out with a combination of boiling water and a knife. The whole process caused her to “[laugh] at herself through tears of self-pity” (171), and in the end, the cutlets were “barely edible” because the oven stank so badly and leaked gas. Now, her apartment still reeks like cutlets, incense, and cigarette smoke, and Paula cries “because she had never been able to have one of those clean and luminous houses” (171).
She lights a cigarette and pulls the sheets over her head like a tent. Under the covers, she begins to masturbate, even though “[i]t didn’t work at all anymore” (172). She touches herself until her skin is irritated, but she stops short of making herself bleed. Instead, she pulls her lamp under the sheets and examines her body. She has red keratosis spots on her thighs, along with “dandruff, depression, zits on her back, cellulite, hemorrhoids, and everything dry, so dry” (173). She wonders “[w]ho would ever love her like that” (173) and lights another cigarette. She chases a butterfly with the smoke and watches it suffocate. Bored, Paula lets her cigarette burn a small circle in her sheet. She lets the burn spread until flames begin to rise, then she hits them out. She starts to see the lamplight filtering through the burned holes of the sheet and hurries to burn more holes, desperate to see “a starry sky over her head” (174).
The teenage narrator and her four friends—Julieta, Pinocchia, the Polack, and Nadia—gather regularly at the Polack’s house to smoke, listen to music, and experiment with a Ouija board. They swear with blood that none of them moves the planchette, and the narrator really believes that the girls can communicate with spirits through the board. One of them always takes notes to record the messages, and sometimes the planchette moves so fast that she cannot write the letters down fast enough.
One day, the Polack’s “crazy Catholic” mother catches them and calls all their parents, accusing them “of being satanists and whores” (177), and the girls are forced to find a new location to hold their sessions. The narrator is forbidden from having friends over because of her sick mother. Julieta shares a room with her grandparents and her little brother, and Nadia lives in a poor neighborhood that the other girls are scared to visit, so they are left with Pinocchia’s house. Pinocchia lives far away, but the girls manage to get permission from their parents and take two buses to “East Bumfuck.” Once they arrive, they realize Pinocchia’s house is perfect; she has a large room where they can all sleep comfortably, and her parents leave her alone. Outside of the city, they feel “different,” and Julieta finally tells her friends that she wants to use the Ouija board to speak to her parents.
The girls were always afraid to ask Julieta directly about her parents, who “had disappeared,” “were disappeared” or had “been disappeared” (179); the girls “didn’t really know the right way to say it” (179). Someone had come when Julieta and her brother were small and taken her parents away. She remembers nothing about them and wants to speak to them through the board, or at least discover where their bodies are. She claims that finding the missing bodies could make them famous, which seems “cold-blooded” and “harsh” to the narrator, but she figures Julieta has to “do her thing” (179). Julieta suggests that they start trying to contact other disappeared people who might help. The Polack tells the girls about her aunt’s boyfriend, who was disappeared during the World Cup, and Nadia contributes a friend of her father’s who had been “taken away.” The narrator remembers a neighbor who was disappeared. When they were young, the girls didn’t really understand what happened to these people, but now they have seen movies like Night of the Pencils and read the Nuncio Más report, so they know more.
The girls have a few more Ouija board sessions at Pinocchia’s house, but they cannot get in touch with Julieta’s parents. They talk to some spirits of disappeared people, but they “talk in circles” (182) and leave before giving the girls details. Finally, they manage to contact a spirit called Andrés, who knows the Polack’s aunt’s boyfriend. He tells him the spirits leave when the girls ask about the location of their bodies because they don’t know where they are, or because one of the girls doesn’t “belong,” and that bothers them. The girls don’t press the question because they know the spirits like to “play” with them, but they go over the conversation again, thinking it through, when they are startled by a knock on the door. The girls are nervous; Pinocchia’s parents never bother them, but their fear evaporates when they discover that Pinocchio’s handsome older brother Leo is at the door. He tells the girls they “have some balls” (184) for playing with the Ouija board and asks his sister for help unloading some things from his truck. Pinnochia reluctantly agrees and leaves the other girls to giggle excitedly about Leo.
Pinnochia has been gone for over half an hour when the planchette moves on its own; none of the girls are even touching it. It spells out “Ready,” and the girls hear Pinocchia scream outside. They rush downstairs to see Pinocchia sobbing in her mother’s arms. When she left with Leo, he had suddenly “changed,” becoming “mean” and refusing to answer her questions. He led her to the corner, even though there was plenty of space to park the truck near the house, and then disappeared. Pinocchia waited for him but became frightened when he didn’t appear and went back to the house. She tells her parents what happened, and they assure her that Leo is at home in his own apartment, asleep because he has to work early. Pinocchia is “trembling with fear” (185), so they call Leo. When he answers the phone, complaining about being woken up, Pinocchia starts “having a terrible meltdown” (185), screaming until her parents have to call an ambulance. Julieta whispers that Pinocchia is suffering “because she didn’t have anyone disappear” (186). The narrator feels sorry for her friend, but she is also afraid. The girls never meet up or play with the Ouija board again. Pinocchia’s parents blame them for their daughter’s breakdown, thinking they “played a mean prank on her” (188), but they know that “the spirits had come to get” Pinocchia because she was the one who “bothered them” (187).
“Kids Who Come Back” is the longest and most overtly allegorical story in the collection. It is a take on the European myth of the changeling, a supernatural look-alike replacement for a kidnapped child, and it explores the theme of The Impossibility of Hiding the Past. When missing children start turning up in four specific parks across Buenos Aires, their return is initially cause for celebration. However, it soon becomes clear that there is something deeply uncanny about the returned children. The children are polite and well-behaved but largely uncommunicative. They don’t seem to eat, and they look the same as the day they disappeared, even though years have sometimes passed.
The story highlights society’s unwillingness to face uncomfortable truths: The media rushes to explain away these discrepancies, and the public accepts even the most far-fetched explanations “with relief.” Everyone is desperate to ignore whatever strange reality the returned children represent. This eagerness to ignore the children’s uncanny qualities reflects the public’s complicity in ignoring the injustices the children suffered that led to their disappearances in the first place. These children were victims of social injustices, including poverty, human trafficking, and domestic violence, and their reappearance signals their refusal to have their traumatic experiences buried and forgotten. However, parents soon begin to “return” their children, claiming they are impostors, showing their tendency to turn away from difficult truths rather than confront them.
The title story, “The Dangers of Smoking in Bed,” explores the themes of Isolation and the Loss of Human Connection and The Manifestation of the Grotesque in Everyday Life. The story is the shortest in the collection and the least plot-driven. When Paula, an aging, solitary woman, learns that a neighbor has burned to death while smoking in bed, she becomes fascinated by this piece of information. She retreats to her bed and hides under her sheets with a cigarette, burning holes in the bedding until she imagines she can see the starry sky. She also attempts to masturbate, even though she can no longer summon a pleasurable sensation, and she examines her aging body with disgust, wondering “[w]ho would ever love her like that” (173). Paula’s sentiment toward her body reflects the sense that women become grotesque as they age, losing value as their bodies begin to deviate from conventional standards of beauty. She repeatedly lights her sheets on fire, letting the flames grow bigger each time before putting them out, with a sense of suicidal determination.
The final story, “Back When We Talked to the Dead,” is the only one in the collection that directly addresses the violent military dictatorship that controlled Argentina in the 1970s and ’80s. Although it is the only story explicitly about this history, the themes of disappearances, inexplicable fears, and reluctance to face the past that run through the collection also echo the lingering effects of this traumatic period. Like “Our Lady of the Quarry,” this story is narrated in the first-person plural by a group of teenage girls. It is set in the years just following the dictatorship, around the same time when Enriquez was a teenager, when information about the atrocities committed by the military government was becoming public. The girls in the story have read the Nunca Más report on the disappeared and seen the 1984 documentary Night of the Pencils, which is about a group of high school students who were kidnapped and murdered for calling for reduced student bus fares.
However, there is still a great deal of silence and uncertainty about those times, especially surrounding the tens of thousands of people who were “taken away.” When Julieta tells the girls she wants to use the Ouija board to talk to her parents, they don’t “really know the right way” to talk about what happened to them, wondering if they “had disappeared,” “were disappeared,” or had “been disappeared” (179). All of the girls, except Pinocchia, know someone who was “taken,” and they attempt to use the Ouija board to contact them. Eventually, one of the spirits comes to taunt Pinocchia for her immunity from suffering, taking the form of her brother. The experience terrifies her and leaves her “a little crazy” (187), suggesting that no one is spared from the collective trauma of the dictatorship. Even those like Pinocchia, who were seemingly safe and immune, cannot escape the collective trauma of that period. The ghost who returns to terrify her highlights the idea that past atrocities cannot be hidden.



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