subtle way of buying time there in the truck bed … In 1946 there was not even one refrigerated truck anywhere in the length or the breadth of the Mexican territory … Hence the complex aspect of this troublesome situation was to transport the meat packed in ice, oh yes, only from where to where, eh? because to get enough ice: where … And the impossibility (right?) of … Well, anyway, we’ll now close this muddle with a happy fact: Demetrio and Benigno did not have to wander through the ignominious labyrinth of the streets of Sabinas; all they had to do was find x butcher to buy their goods, which had been covered. The transaction in itself was formidable because the butcher (the owner) placed a huge order for the following week: four lambs and eight she-goats—a heavenly delight! or that’s what we would call it.
26
Let’s mention the drought so we can go straightaway to the only two letters Renata buried near the henhouse. Regarding the latter, later, for it held quite lively interest, and as to the former we can state that October, November, and two weeks of December had already passed and no rain had fallen in Sacramento or the surrounding area, not even in the distance did a bold and threatening cloud appear above any hill, not even did a lost burst of lightning bring a furtive flash to gladden a few hearts—nothing at all! nothing but a solar invasion, with the accompanying clear skies, everywhere and always, whose tones of livid injurious blue began to fill the few inhabitants in those parts with terror. In fact, the nocturnal and diurnal heat seemed to gnaw with multiple rows of teeth, awakening the sensation that at any moment the inanimate might begin to stir.
We can talk about the animate (mobile, legged) only in terms of caution and despondency, or the search for relief in the shade. People, animals, insects—where could they find refuge? There were deaths, mostly in the hinterlands, which became most definitively a horrific expanse, more and more uninhabitable. This serves as a point of reference from which to ponder the increased sluggishness in Sacramento: no signs of whips or spurs, nobody wanted to budge because that meant suffering for the mere sake of it. And as far as business was concerned: sales plummeted, specifically at Doña Luisa and Renata’s stationery store, which was now quite clearly a business of secondary importance, because they didn’t sell food; in fact, for weeks they considered having a go at selling an array of cold drinks, but, to begin with, they’d have to buy an ice chest, then get three blocks of ice every day and start chopping away from early morn … In 1946 there was a small ice factory near La Polka, a place called El Cariño de la Montaña; there are reports that every day great quantities of these blocks were carried by cart, and that it took three trips by boat to transport the entire load … However, the sale of cold drinks had stiff competition; the ten grocery stores in town each sold an unimaginable quantity of such drinks. Packaged coldness—it should be stated—did not guarantee a profit. In fact, all businesses were hurting. The fault lay in the weather—but was it only the weather? The fault lay in the exodus of people to unknown burgs (otherwise called industrialization): the ripping apart of the small-town social fabric, and now let’s focus on Renata and Doña Luisa and extract a snippet of a diffident dialogue: a dinner with dishes piled high with eggs and chorizo to ponder piecemeal the possibility of moving, for example, to Monclova or Monterrey, assuming that Sacramento would soon be doomed: add to this the fanning that kept time with the eating: manual nimbleness shoring up adversity. On one hand, the urgency to flee: the beautiful one putting pressure on the obstinate mother, who claimed she’d rather die in Sacramento than venture into the unknown: I’m not going anywhere, even if it is for the best. Moreover, she said that in a small town she felt protected; she mentioned relatives twice or thrice removed who lived there, as well as her very close friends who lived nearby: Everyone, at the end of the day, would take pity on me. Whereas in the city … The advantageous gregariousness of the small scale, the tribal, the cyclical nature of a consolation that stiffens one’s resolve: right? After this affirmation the conversation took