doctor gave me the news. And the second: A little less than eight months to go till the birth. More insistent: would they reside with his mother … Of course, for this was the very best solution in such a predicament: I want you to know something very important: my mother is a very generous woman. She will help you throughout your pregnancy and later with the baby while I look for a good job. And the money in the suitcase—eh? Almost all of it was earmarked for the down payment on the house … how obvious.
The onslaught of questions slowly sputtered out, the thoughts and silences turning into undertows and aftershocks: thus their separate obstinacies sharpened, chafing, though all appeared vague and at crosscurrents, until Mireya came upon a clearing in her mind: I don’t want to live with your mother. Kerplunk! We insist that her declaration was as contingent as the journey itself. To wit, let’s frame the scene as if we were viewing it from a certain height and through a lens: dapper Professor Demetrio (under duress) dealing with a pupil who needed repeated explanations as simple as they were definitive; the pressing needs: a house of their own; independence, as well as, and needless to say, distance. Yes, as it were, it would be fine to meet his mother, but Mireya suggested that she would like to live in a city with a dependable hospital, a Mexican city, that is: on this side—never the other! She also asserted that she would need two full-time servants and other minor requisites that may well have felt like prods. And her missteps kept multiplying. Hostility, but … longing for a taste, seeking the mouth that kisses, and as Demetrio didn’t want to look at her, imagine how stubbornly he stared out the window, and all Mireya could do was stroke his neck, from behind—how embarrassing! and so it continued without a hint of even a rude response. On the contrary: a vigorous recoiling, a deeper and deeper retreat: Demetrio elaborating a quite injurious plan: first and foremost, to disentangle himself: oh dear!: gradually deciding how: an uncertainty that would have to last till a none-too-easy determination grew darker and darker. The sun was long in setting. It would have to be carried out shortly after boarding the train to Saltillo. Night was, would be, different. They would both sleep in their seats, first-class seats, to wit: cushioned and cozy: sinking softly, and much farther down than on the bus. It would come and … The agronomist, in the meantime, established a rule that he would no longer kiss her on the mouth, no more frolicking tongues or lips, nothing, not even a puckered peck. Well, maybe an inadvertent one, okay, but no holding of waists, nor clutching of hands, for any length of time. A victory over discomfort. Chilly exchanges, few words. We find ourselves now on the train platform in Mexico City, where Demetrio finally spoke lightheartedly: We are going on a very long trip. We might be on that train for thirty hours, even more. Tomorrow we’ll be in Saltillo, and I’m thinking maybe we can live there. Saltillo has everything: servants, first-rate hospitals, jobs. Things will go swimmingly for us there. My idea is to stay in a decent hotel, and from there we’ll see. This wasn’t what he meant but rather something much subtler: the pretense of very certain courage.
Night. A long and continuous slumber! Utmost to arrange, before boarding, the purchase of sedatives so they could sleep at least ten hours. They wandered around and found, and also bought, sandwiches as well as a generous helping of dulce de leche candies and candied peanuts. Necessary baggage, a semblance of abundance—undoubtedly!? Once seated they ate their fill, and the train departed. They would sleep sitting down but—careful!—: not snuggled up against each other, only their eyes told the adjacent passengers—what?, let’s see, that they really loved each other? No, no point in that. Just the shared sweats, the bother of wiping away ticklish trickles in full snooze: how awkward to awaken like that! Demetrio’s strategy consisted of maintaining a certain distance, which enabled him to rise from his seat whenever he pleased and thereby avoid, needless to say, waking the brunette. Hence the contemplative strolls up and down the train corridors. To caper at will … ah: he would dare, he would do it, he would get off at one of the next stations, but