avoid the looming avalanche, because when she was still several paces away the doña brazenly asked: What does he say? When is he coming? We must read the letter together. That was the moment her daughter turned her back. She blushed, and, of course, the glimmer of a tear appeared in the corner of her left eye, a residue, to tell the truth. More questions ensued now from closer up, much more euphonic; utter nonsense. Moreover, let us note the dear lady’s trembling fingers upon one of the bare shoulders of she who expressed what was all too well justified: What you’re doing is totally unfair, Mama! It’s mine, and mine alone. I’m going to tell Papa! Her mother removed her hand. The nerves of our impetuous fox showed signs of deterioration, nerves that clenched for a few seconds of silence only to reveal, finally, the all-powerful defense: Your father supports me in everything. You have no choice. You must let me read the letter! Resistance and cries: two weapons she used to hold the sheets, with brazen pressure, against her breast: Renata withdrew; if only we could hear without prejudice her whimpering and her no! no! no! Needless to say there was dismay on the part of her mother, who finally said she only wanted to know the date the nonpareil suitor would come.
She still had a lot to read. So … we can infer … perhaps in the last paragraph … let’s see …
May the information soon arrive!
The response: Please. Let me read it alone, then I’ll tell you.
And the mother’s (now sympathetic) retreat.
The thing was that once she’d finished reading the letter: no, there was no mention of a date. Renata’s laments lasted a good long time, time enough to bury the letter and go moaning to her mother to inform her that no, no date … et cetera … Such a confusing medley of emotions, of defeat, when all was said and done. Renata’s contrite postscript to Doña Luisa was frugal, of course! and now the counterargument was useful:
“You see!? You never know with these outlanders.”
And other similar ones. More warnings mixed with further speculation.
“Don’t you dare complain about me to Pascual! You’ll only complicate things for yourself!”
Don Pascual had recently been quite down in the dumps, ailing. He had twice traveled in his truck to Cuatro Ciénegas to consult with the only doctor there, for in Sacramento there was none. Alas, what a nuisance! Twenty-six miles between the two towns. What’s important to mention here is that the doctor prescribed an array of medicines, all quite strong, to be bought at the local pharmacy, owned by said doctor. But since Don Pascual refused to repose for even one hour during the day, despite his copious sweats and swoons, by two weeks later his condition had worsened. In the face of such fatigue he had almost asked for, he should clearly be spared the importunity of all that impending romantic nonsense, a profuse letter, delirium, longing …
Nonsense?
Or not?
Fortunately Demetrio’s second letter arrived ten bitter days later. A rigorous half page, though one that brought joy and a date: I will visit you on August 15. Damn it, the hottest time of year. The trek through March, April, May, June, July, and then two weeks more still to come. Then another sentence, the necessary subordinate: the fumbling excuse: My annual vacation begins on August 12 and I have only one week.
Renata’s quick glimpse: three days to get here, three to return, one day in Sacramento. Demetrio would stay at Doña Zulema’s house. Summing it all up was easy: If he’s interested in me he’ll make the sacrifice. Nonetheless, a doubt, or rather, the future pirouettes of a doubt: will he really come? The situation presupposed an infinity of pirouettes, and to calm herself down, Renata, without giving it a second thought, informed Doña Luisa of the date, that the wait had indeed been worth it, or in any case—what to do? what to think? Now the old fox had her chance to play the part of the composed counselor:
“Write to him immediately. Tell him you will expect him, but don’t be effusive with your emotions. Be friendly but cool. Don’t reassure him. He’ll like that. You’ll see, it will make him more interested.”
Talk about busybodies … In Oaxaca the training proceeded apace: in, out; in, out; in, out. And what about Mireya’s fellatios: go for it! give it to me! on a daily basis, except Mondays, as