forthcoming. That’s when Demetrio, in a semijocular tone, said:
“It wouldn’t be such a bad idea for me to go to Parras and try to persuade my mother to come live in Sacramento …”
Let’s examine this idea so we can elucidate with fair or foul efficiency what the betrothed was betting on, which he didn’t state at that moment but would if the conversation continued the following day, in the store—right? anyway … The sale of the house in Parras: a fortune—yes siree! Then the three ladies living here together: blessed progress: a whole network of aspirations that helped him espy an always straight path. Doña Luisa’s house was the largest, so the noble triad could be there: a convenient packing in—though for how many years? The last to die would be the winner: aha! All of this laid out with great tact. The store resounded with all that novelty. Further enhanced with elaborate decor (the three old ladies encouraging each other, day after day, and all the other fortuitous adventures): one sensible idea after another: either from the second mother or the apocryphal son: and: the real premise: the three old women strengthening their (gooey) family bonds, to allow for the other: love, no longer a battlefield! … by remote control! yes, yes! yeeeesss! of course! the only thing left was Renata’s opinion and then immediately to carry the idea to the next stage: the mother, that one, that Doña Luisa … with her whims and her wonts …
Let’s go without further delay to the bench, where, after having bathed like never before in the cedar tub, Demetrio now flaunted a satin shirt with tiny polka dots and brown canvas pants. Renata appeared in a diaphanous dress, orange to a fault and with yellowish-gray edges, the fabric—serge or silk?, the thing was she looked so hot she seemed to be on fire. In a trice the handhold, decent as ever; and Demetrio and his full disclosure: his extraordinary proposition, elaborated; then the climax: that Doña Luisa and Doña Zulema would live together, Doña Telma as well, she in Parras—what do you think? because with the assets of all three … It was even possible that none of them would have to work: such lavish wealth—don’t you think? and forward-looking twists and turns, laborious and, of course, quite favorable for a fanciful and always reassuring (triple) flight, as he constantly added elements, until Renata, with a gasp, proclaimed:
“It’s not a bad idea, but it all depends on what my mother decides.”
“If she makes the right decision, we’ll be able to get married soon, I know.”
“I hope so.”
Upon hearing this last sentence, the suitor, already feeling like a husband-to-be, fell into a rapturous state: he lowered his head with sublime ecstasy, and, true to his nature as a bold transgressor, he also—just because—pressed his lips together to form a kissing horn, a bit like a mushroom in full bloom, and—bam! smack onto the back of Renata’s right hand: that most supreme kiss: supermeaty—wow! but in the absence of any saliva to seal the deal he stuck out the tip of his tongue and began to lick with supreme tenderness: the exploit of a pro who was putting his all on the line with this tenacious salivation. Renata watched this enraptured act in shock; she allowed it to continue, hoping that the caracoling tongue action would eventually peter out as it wound round and round; until she yanked her hand away and cried out in horror:
“I thought you were a gentleman … I never want to see you again.”
And off she ran to the stationery store. She was indignant, copiously tearful, like a little girl who’d seen a bogeyman, or somebody even worse. Fear: shooting rays, and her refuge: the arms of her angry and quaking mother. She had come out to meet her daughter as soon as she’d heard the piercing shriek. A sidewalk embrace. Many witnesses: all children. Now we turn to Demetrio, who was still sitting on the (trysting) bench, not understanding a darn thing, as he watched right in front of his eyes, almost like a thawing, the tawny embrace—for it was evening—of mother and daughter: indeed: a minute-long cry in arms; the orange-wrapped sobbing beauty, and then Doña Luisa, turning around, gave the big guy a furious look and spit this out:
“Go away, you scoundrel! You disrespected my daughter! Go away and never come back!”
But of course! and without understanding the extent of the damage done, Demetrio, with