of his stature to be buried like a dog. And now as an aside, let us add that Doña Zulema was, as far as can be expected, a model hostess, so much so that she tired of being so, after welcoming (nonstop) his relatives over a five-year period. By the way: strangers kept arriving, and each one gave her money. A business, inadvertent, or divine compensation, still insufficient, considering that the tawdry tale did not even give her the gift of a child. Abelardo left her nothing but three days of lapsed love and—sorrow! for she found few people who were willing to hear in full detail about her one and only real and lasting misfortune. Demetrio, yes, that night, on the eve of his trip to Monclova and then on his way to Sabinas: he heard, and heard, and heard, without asking any questions: exemplary attitude translated into Zulema formulating an ulterior proposition:
“Demetrio, allow me to take on the role of your second mother … As you can see, it is what I need most of all at this point in my life.”
“Okay, I understand what you are proposing … It’s just that for me it’s important to know what being my second mother means to you.”
“Only that you may live in this house whenever you want; only that when I die you will own it.”
“Great, that suits me just fine.”
“If you end up not liking your work on Don Delfín’s ranches, you can return here. You will be near Renata, and you can invest your money and work in Sacramento.”
“Really?”
“Yes, and from now on you should know that my store is yours.”
“But my mother, Telma … hmm … I can’t just forsake her.”
“She’s as forsaken as I am … But do as you like. You could, for example, bring her to live here, she could sell her house and …”
“Look, Aunt, I have to think carefully about everything you are suggesting … But from this point on I accept you as my second mother—by all means!”
24
It’s hard to know whether the earth, midst its thousands of millions of rotative and orbital movements, had tilted a bit or veered slightly off course. Such speculation is germane considering that the weather in October 1946, at least in the central region of Coahuila, was hotter than hell. The population’s consternation was so pronounced that nobody expected the weather to change till November or December, many even fantasizing that Christmas celebrations would be accompanied by fans and perspiration. Which had never happened, but now—phew!: climactic displacement was a reality and perhaps not till January, or even February, would it begin to grow cold, not so cold as to need a heavy coat, but still. Some even thought that the real cold season (the normal one) would not begin till March or April of the following year, and a few, carrying things to an extreme, thought it would never again be cold on the face of the earth, and there would never be rain (not even in jest), and blahblahblah: and as no one knew the exact cause of the phenomenon, almost everyone attributed it to divine retribution. Perhaps human beings had been behaving so badly that they deserved the worst: a perpetual and bruising heat, brutal—right? Hopefully not, others thought: God might apply pressure but is incapable of destroying what he himself had created.
Anyway, the heat hovers over everything else in the sense that the thousands of stories unfolding herein will be subject to a perpetual drip. Hopefully not, we think, but only because it is convenient to think in these terms.
So, let’s skip ahead once and for all past the wondrously imaginative predictions of the locals to reveal—perhaps therein damaging the logical unfolding of a plot—that in December 1946 the weather turned around abruptly from one day to the next. First came a deluge (with murderous hail) throughout much of the region, which in turn almost immediately ushered in very cold winds, mostly from the north and the west; that’s how it was, and we shall deal with what follows all in due time … In the meantime, we might fancy a fan.
25
To learn to drive. Demetrio nearly started panting when he heard these words from Don Delfín’s lips as the principal requirement for the optimal administration and supervision of the three ranches. Daily trips in the pickup first thing in the morning except Sundays, supposedly his day off. We should say that he was supposed to finish his rounds shortly