no?—of an alarming unheard-of size, perhaps the commanding size of an archangel.
39
We needn’t stretch our imaginations too far to take as given that Doña Zulema welcomed her nephew with open arms. We can also imagine the exultant cuddles. This business about her being the second mother comes up immediately; to put it in strong terms, she came right out with it; which made him—the apocryphal son? Confusion, and the more they clung to each other the greater the confusion, an almost libertine reflection; hindered love: fluctuating between which norms; more confusion, and therefore, even stranger. Oh, the twists and turns of affection, though the passion was directed elsewhere, as we know: Renata, still at the beginning. So Demetrio abruptly pulled away. From that moment on he never again wanted to catch even a whiff of the old woman’s odor—how disgusting!, and he expressed himself with such honeyed delicacy that even he surprised himself at having said what he said, which is better omitted because it is too sweet. We can well imagine the grandiloquent excuse, full of whatever it was full of. Then, while expressing gratitude for such withered hospitality, the nephew asked if he could take a bath in the cedar tub; he also asked his aunt not to say a word about Renata, for she knew that the affairs of the heart were coming to a head. For Doña Zulema, however, keeping quiet was rather esoteric, though she wisely abided, how understanding of her; how wounded, if only because she couldn’t speak … Anyway, she was left with the urge to utter a neologism, though not even that … Demetrio spent a long time outside in the tub. Let’s assume the nephew arrived in Sacramento around two in the afternoon then subtract the minutes of the embrace (cuddle), a first press as of an inaugurating nectar—or what can we call something that blooms? Then the bath that lasted about two and a half hours. A lot of, let us say, lazy soaking. But let’s expand upon the priors. Surely the sweat must have mingled. There was also subtle impregnation; now, dropping in, let’s try to watch his naked egress, let’s say, an instant seen by the aunt, a second of sight before the bashful nephew covered with the towel what shouldn’t be seen. All told, distant affection, impossible, but let us forget the forgettable and go once and for all to the model figure Demetrio cut a bit later. Model-husband; model-lover; the model who took a string of pearls out of his suitcase: the perfect gift for Renata. Then Aunt Zulema made a definitive, but appropriate, comment: On no account are you going to give those to your future wife. The superstition is that for each pearl there will be a tear. It is an ugly prediction. Please, throw that away, anywhere. It brings very bad luck. Superstition? Belief? One must never challenge the devil’s wisdom. The most dangerous thing one can do. In fact, Demetrio went and threw the necklace out on the street, and whoever, poor thing! picked it up would go belly-up. The prudent thing was to go to Renata’s house bearing no gift. So let’s watch the big guy arrive quite carefree at the stationery store, where—thank God—there was a swarm of customers. The fiancé had to wait until they’d all been helped, and when mother and daughter were alone Renata ushered her gallant into the living room, accompanied by the holy mother-in-law. Then: Wait here alone. Enjoy the living room. Look it over carefully. My daughter has to get dressed, spruce herself up. Don’t get impatient. The fiancé ensconced alone in that space. It comprised the family’s approval. That is, Demetrio was already one of the family. Phew! what a price to pay.
The big guy sat with grave intent in the large greenish armchair in that still-strange and yellow living room. A new position, as if he were a pseudostatue or, better, an incomprehensible stiff. Waiting, waiting knowing how alone he was, almost drowning in a somewhat depressive state of mind.
Hmm, the more time passed the more wicked ideas cropped up in his head.
And a ton of minutes passed, hence—here comes the scab of his bawdy life! Oaxaca: the symbol, lechery a la costumbrista: against: suddenly: in Torreón he almost died. He saw the barrel of the gun pointing at him: he, who was now a well-groomed, ultradecent husband.
Half an hour, a bit more, before mother and daughter appeared, quite dazzling.