tension. And the dear lady longed to find out what horror had befallen her lamb in the cathouses of Torreón. You can trust me. Tell me what happened. I’ll just listen. Unburden yourself. This attempt at persuasion would be repeated more than five times and in different ways, and the result could be none other than his contempt: all and any way: however he wished: such as: turning his back on her, or giving her a sour pout, or muttering nonsense, or, you can imagine the rest, until … Who knows what devil prodded the big guy to blurt out his wretched story. He spoke as if he were in a hideout, avoiding anything that would shed light on the extent of his folly. In fact, he decided not to describe the sexual. With his mother he had no confessional playbook to follow other than traipsing from one surprise to the next and summing it up strategically bit by bit. Hence his opposing inventions, nurtured by the supposed innocence of a person still apt to be astonished who realizes that everything is disappointing, beginning with the cathouses of Torreón, where thieves and murderers abounded. That is, some guy stole his wallet at gunpoint. That was the only anecdote (an auspicious invention), the rest was nothing but a pile of sketchy notions, as cerebral as they were abstract. A drastic and meandering simplification so that his mother would understand only the cruelty of the theft and his attendant anguish, about which she, without holding herself back, proclaimed thus: I know how terrible you must feel, but that’s what I’m here for, to help you through this. Nonetheless, Demetrio, at some point after his confession, began to elaborate a grievance that had its origins way back when his father used to beat him; whippings for any reason whatsoever; the terror of living without hope, knowing that whatever he did would be wrong; the sense that the simple fact of growing up was a threat, the weight of which would soon crush him, as if life were perpetual confusion and he had no choice but to toe the line if he wanted even modest security. Or rather: never even attempt to stray. That’s why he studied agronomy, because his father had forced him to, because the señor owned land that his only (submissive) son would have to manage. Manipulated, though only temporarily, for Demetrio finally rebelled. He fled—when he graduated, of course!—from his house, with an ideal of freedom that didn’t—nor ever would— have any foundation. The purpose of his life revealed itself only in puffs of mist and … enough already! His glimpse of what was essential was as normal as it was overwhelming: get married, have children, work like a burro, and have not the slightest spirit of transgression. A vertical trajectory as unobjectionable as a plant that bears fruit, although being alone and doing things he didn’t like, for example: agronomy—how could such triumphs hold his interest? Demetrio had followed a script whose sequel was uncertain, if not straight-out false. By his age he should have been an opulent man, swelling with countless honors and endless pride, but … who was to blame—he or somebody else? or, whom could he rouse with the extent of his affliction, though to put a fine point on it: failure … simple failure? failure because he’d been robbed in a place he should never, under any circumstances, have been? When his mother heard that word she entered the fray: I think it is absolutely clear that you have not failed. You are a professional with a future and you also have savings in the bank. If they stole a portion of your capital that doesn’t mean you’re ruined. You must also understand that it is your good fortune to have me, I’m a widow with some money and … Such redeeming niceties and that appeasing blahblahblah were not sufficient. Enough with the harangue. Demetrio stopped her with an “I know, I know, enough,” then added that he wanted to invest and to work with great resolve, but he didn’t know at what. Nothing fit the bill entirely and, oh, such sauciness—from an overprotected fool? You like games, you could invest in a pool hall, there isn’t one in Parras, a pleasant place where people could also play dominoes and cards. You’ll do well even if there is no betting. I’ll help you. Unexpected illuminating twitch! Smiles that shine. Light that floods the scene and