Better not to think such filthy thoughts. Better to think about the sanctity therein, in her sweeter than sweet demeanor and her body, oh, like a wildflower …
“I will write you twice a month. You are enchanting.” He used the familiar “tú” form of address.
“We just met and already so familiar?”
“I’m sorry—oh boy! It’s just that I’m from the city … Please, forgive me.”
“When you return, if you return, I’ll allow it.”
A fleeting association: Mireya never made a fuss about that, in fact, she never made any fuss at all.
“Of course I’ll come back. I promise you. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met in my life and, I presume, the kindest. It would be a great honor for me to see you again soon.”
“You have a way with words. I like what you’ve said, and I must confess, I’d like to hear more.”
In the face of such fair rusticity, the agronomist could not possibly use the base language that he used with Mireya, perhaps eventually, but who knows when.
“I will always speak tenderly to you. With words as soft and beautiful as you are.”
“And I will always be grateful.”
A chivalrous adieu. Obsequious smiles for the parents as he accompanied Renata to her seat. When he turned his back upon all of that—quite decently done, of course—Demetrio took long jaunty strides across the basketball court. His mother and aunt greeted him with smiles. They: eager. He: excited. It was still not time, however, to speak about how things had gone with the girl. Instead, what was worth noticing after the agronomist’s abrupt about-face was that Renata and her parents were leaving: we still have to find out why: perhaps these gentlefolk had decided that their daughter should not dance with another: this also to the outlander’s advantage, who thought in a flash: I’ve got my foot in the door. I’m like a Prince Charming from far away. He said as much within earshot of his mother and aunt. They: swelling with pride, smiling. It was best he say no more. Every silence is strategic. It might also help him to think ahead, especially because he was pondering the nature of the summary impressions he’d made upon those who had left, impressions that might even be marvelous: the outlander appeared to be a well-educated man, with good social standing and a promising future; moreover, his height—incredible! impressive!—his self-confidence, his good manners, that sort of thing. Correct impressions of Demetrio, but ones that he had foisted upon the departed trio. Now, here come the comments of his own dear aunt! who didn’t hold her tongue—nor did she overstate her joy—: I know that family. One of the most respectable in Sacramento. That’s all, then on to the next subject. Doña Telma wanted to congratulate the newlyweds, especially the parents of the bride: old friends of hers, and most important: the inviters who’d wired to Parras. Anyway, the three of them proceeded: best wishes were proffered. The introduction of the agronomist son. Then followed more praiseworthy observations pertinent to the couple’s happiness—a sampling? Naw, enough already! The party’s over. Let’s be gone! And why even dip our toes into the flood of verbiage provoked by Renata and Demetrio’s spin on the dance floor, once they were back at the home of that aunt, who mentioned in passing how bad the food was, how there weren’t even enough tables, and, oh—so many unbearable details? Just to make clear, the agronomist ate neither potato salad nor sandwiches made with scrawny bits of chicken soaked in chorizo juice. Would such aloofness be harmful? No, because at least the hungry man had his plate full of love’s frenetic beginnings, more than enough to keep him up all night talking. And now for an aside: Renata Melgarejo was the only daughter left to those refreshingly respectable gentlepeople; the other four, all older, had already been carried off by other outlanders, outlanders with great futures! Et cetera. Many weddings. Ugh! An anodyne extension of the conversation. Bitter pills for Demetrio to swallow as he begged for a bed. Please. Agreed. Go to sleep! the aunt finally exclaimed. Gossip’s full delight to be enjoyed on the morrow. And there he lay in the middle of the mattress, unblanketed. He wore lightweight pajamas. Now for the final frame: the bedded trio—but careful! all wearing pajamas. Dreams and fatigue lasting till noon, and from Demetrio, not the slightest lascivious touch, even when his aunt was well within reach. Only a