him breakfast (insensitive hostess), though she did place her aged hand near his mouth:
“Kiss it!”
“Why?”
“Do it! It’ll make you feel good.”
“I don’t see the point …”
“Come on! Don’t be a fool. I know Renata didn’t let you hold her hand.”
“But you are not Renata.”
“Pretend I am. Take my hand and kiss it.”
Without knowing what he would get in return, Demetrio obeyed. He became a bemused kisser of wrinkled skin. Wrinkles that inspire tenderness. A warm sensation so similar to … and after continuing to kiss it slowly the depraved suitor stuck out his tongue and licked it lustily. It seemed like an obscenity, but then—ah yes! to lick and lick and lick the pith, so much saddened saliva, and in such high concentrations. The kiss lasted a whole minute. It could have been longer, but Zulema pulled her hand away and said:
“Now you can leave at your ease.”
And Demetrio left with a bit of a cramp.
12
Now to Doña Rolanda: the befuddled welcomer. Let us imagine the arrival of a man who is falling apart: Demetrio and his flaccid height (collapsing): hoping to sleep for twenty-four hours, but … A woman came by for you. It was Sunday. Work tomorrow. His need to recuperate made him averse to hearing any nonsense. Please! The surprise came in stages, until it bored into his very core: certainly it was Mireya, though … ugh … Mi-re-ya?! the lady pronounced the name … How might his magnificent lover have discovered his domicile? In the meantime, to avoid second- and third-hand information, unlikely guesses, twists and turns—so many!: the lady attempted to accompany him (wordily) to his room, but halfway there Demetrio stopped her: Listen! I am exhausted. Maybe we can talk in a couple of days. Doña Rolanda was offended by her lodger’s scorn. Did that matter?: perhaps in the end it would. However, just as he was about to fall into bed like a rotten tree trunk, Demetrio muttered one final sentence: This has gone too far. The following day he did not go to that dive, nor did he eat breakfast at the lodging house. Work. Pending issues. Gnashing his teeth against whatever he happened to eat. He ate green tamales in the market of Oaxaca. Two breakfasts—do you hear?! Avoid Doña Rolanda—disgusting! a torrential problem, and—enough already! Not till Tuesday afternoon, relaxed and ready, go to face her he must … Mireya, of course!, though … first, enjoy her …
After making love with fury and imagination, it would be unsuitable for Demetrio to unleash a barrage of questions, especially considering that Mireya hadn’t uttered a word about her visit to his rooming house. Spent after achieving an extraordinary orgasm, she began to effusively caress her man. Her caresses felt more like clumsy tickles: giggles or pure joyous nervousness that, oh! Wait a minute! A form of distraction—triumphant? What was coming could be brutal … and in fact it was …
“You came by my place. How did you find me?”
“Do you want me to tell you?”
“Of course.”
“Well, you see, the last time you left here I asked a friend to follow you. The next morning I went there, and the landlady told me you weren’t in Oaxaca.”
“What gave you the idea to do that?”
“Because I want to live with you. I’ve made up my mind.”
“But I don’t … not now anyway.”
Such things catch fire, then flicker. To each of Demetrio’s negatives there rose from Mireya a new and affable perspective. She exhibited a red-hot wit, despite her troubles and her panic; wit spiced up with nicknames such as: my peach, my melon, my plum, instead of my love or my life; fruits, it would seem, that do not ridicule. And though Demetrio tried to slither troutlike out of her grip, something, some sticky residue, remained on the thin skin of those palms, as it were, but so it was.
Let’s offer some prime examples so that we can penetrate the very heart of this knot: what if she went to live with him at the rooming house … No, that’s impossible, Doña Rolanda rents rooms only to single people; so he could rent a small apartment … No, because I’m about to put the down payment on the house; so in the meantime they could go live in a hotel, even a run-down one … No, because it would be a foolish expense; so he would tell Doña Rolanda (it was to Mireya’s benefit that this name had been revealed) that it was a