Swift as Desire (9 page)

Lucha had gotten her way, but now that she had obtained what she had so desired, she realized a lot of other things were missing. She had never expected that being married would be so difficult, nor what it meant to be married to a poor man. Her parents had warned her, but who listens to parental advice when one is in love? No one. The time she spent in bed with Júbilo was wonderful, but then Júbilo would go to work and leave her alone. As soon as he closed the door, the house would grow silent. The laughter left with him. Lucha had no one to talk to. She missed her family. She missed her friends. She missed the bustle of her parents’ house. She missed the shouts of the street vendors. She missed the whistle of the sweet potato vendor’s cart. She missed the singing of the canaries at home. She missed her Victrola. She missed her records. If only she had a radio, she wouldn’t feel so lonely. But she didn’t have one. And she didn’t see any possibility of acquiring one in the near future, since Júbilo saved every last centavo they had left over, in hopes of buying their own house some day.

A deep melancholy gradually overcame Lucha. There was no one with whom she could discuss her worries. The month they spent in each tiny pueblo didn’t allow her enough time to establish the kind of friendship that would make her feel comfortable about confiding her
problems. In addition, she found that the people in the provinces were very cliquey and gossipy. She didn’t realize that her very appearance was enough to scandalize them. Her haircut and the way she dressed, which seemed copied from fashion magazines, never failed to raise whispers as she passed. Of course, people like to criticize anyone who appears different, so she was the perfect target. She was young, beautiful, dressed like a movie star, and drove her own automobile! How could she not attract attention? So Lucha felt isolated, and never more so than in Huichapan. The rain drove her into a deep gloom. She hated the absence of the sun. Her
mamá
had taught her as a young girl that the sun purified and bleached clothing. Lucha believed that its purifying power extended even further. She was convinced it also cleansed impurities of the soul. And in her house in Mexico City, well, her former house, her parents’ house, she had always been able to go into the garden and lie in the sun when she needed to drive away sadness.

For a girl who grew up showered with indulgence and gratification, life with Júbilo was difficult to bear. Not because of any lack of love or attention from him, but because married life wasn’t what she had expected. Lucha had imagined that, like her mother, she would have servants who would take care of all the household chores so she could dedicate herself to playing the piano, entertaining her friends, and shopping. Her parents had raised her to be a princess. She had attended a school for young ladies where she learned to speak English and
French. She knew how to play the piano, embroider, and set a proper table. She had taken courses in gourmet cooking. So she did know how to cook, but on a gas stove, not on coal. She excelled at French cooking, not Mexican. She didn’t really know much about Mexico, and of its cuisine she knew even less. Her Mexico was limited to the capital, or rather, to the boundaries of her own
colonia.
She thought the people in every house in Mexico ate like they did in her parents’ house and that all leftovers were stored in a refrigerator. She had never imagined that if she wanted a cup of coffee when she got up in the morning she would first have to light a fire in the stove. She didn’t know how to. Nothing she had studied could help her. She was only now learning the things that no teacher had ever taught her: for starters, that food that is not refrigerated spoils, it rots and is invaded by bugs. It requires a very organized mind to survive without a refrigerator. To know what to buy, and how much. The refinements of her education didn’t help her either when it came to washing laundry in the sink. She didn’t have the slightest idea how to do it. At home, her mother had the latest-model wringer washing machine. Washing by hand required much more effort. And besides, she didn’t have the right clothes for housework. She felt completely out of place, like a gringo on the dance floor.

The only good thing was that she could count on Júbilo’s full support. At his side, all her problems vanished. The unknown Mexico appeared before her with a smiling face. In the company of her husband, food in the
markets would taste delicious and even horse droppings would smell glorious. Thanks to Júbilo, Lucha was able to discover the real Mexico, provincial Mexico, the Mexico of the poor, the Indians, the forgotten. A Mexico that was gradually being covered by railway lines and telegraph poles, spreading out over its surface like a spiderweb. And Lucha couldn’t help feeling like a fly about to be trapped by the spider, by some dark force hiding behind all this progress. She was unsettled by all the changes and by the other new developments she sensed were approaching. It all seemed so new to her: she felt insufficiently prepared.

Most of all, she resented the lack of money. If she only had money, everything would be easy. She would be able to buy herself a few dresses and shawls that would make her feel less out of place in the markets. The rough jute bags in which she carried her shopping had already ruined all her silk stockings. Her new life required new clothes, a new hairstyle, and new shoes, but she had no money. Nor did the person on whom she depended.

She had gotten married knowing that it was to a very young, very poor man, who had barely begun his career as a telegraph operator and who was not yet settled, but she had never imagined what all that really meant. All that had mattered to her was losing her virginity. Now she had to face the consequences, and forget her former life as a pampered young girl. She could no longer count on help from her mother, or her brothers, or her
nana
, nor on economic support from her father. Now she had to take care of things for herself. Light the fire in the morning,
cook on coal, wash clothes by hand, dust, scrub, survive without perfume or Colgate toothpaste: and make sure that Júbilo didn’t notice how dissatisfied she felt. He deserved more than that. He was very good to her and gave her everything he could. It wasn’t much, but he gave it with true love. She had to admit that he struggled to make her happy, and while she was with him she never missed her
colonia
, her friends, her parties, her record player, or her radio. But when she was alone, she would cry when she counted the little money she had for the day’s shopping. When she went to the market she had to count every last centavo and to make the coins stretch as far as she could. As she walked through the stalls she would count her money in her head and rack her brains to find a way to prepare a complete meal with the fewest ingredients. And once she had everything she needed, walking home she would go through all the options for cooking them, all the while dreaming of the day when economic hardship would disappear from her life.

The night Júbilo had won the bet with don Pedro, however, Lucha believed that moment had finally arrived and was immediately consumed by an obsession to spend all the money at once, but Júbilo prevented her from doing so, and this became the reason behind their first fight. Lucha lightly berated her husband, complaining that he never noticed all the things they had to do without, and Júbilo replied that he did indeed notice and that was precisely why they needed to save all the money they had. That way, they would sooner be able to buy a decent
house as close as possible to Lucha’s family, so she could stop missing her former life so much.

So one of them looked at a solution over the short term and the other, over the long term. One looked for a palliative for their problems and the other, permanent relief. Finally, after a long argument, they reached a compromise. Júbilo agreed to let Lucha buy a pair of slips and a shawl; and Lucha promised not to touch the rest of the money.

The opportunity to buy something new made Lucha very happy. One could even go so far as to say that the purchase of that shawl literally changed her life. She discovered an article of clothing that was truly not only useful but beautiful. From that moment forward, the shawl became an indispensable accessory to her attire. With her new shawl over her shoulders, Lucha walked tall. She felt like a different woman. It was the first time since getting married that she had shopped for clothes. She was so excited that on her way home, she stopped to buy some candles at another stand in the market. On the counter was a jar of chiles in vinegar, and another filled with olives. The smell of the olives filled the air. Lucha couldn’t resist buying some: she had an irresistible urge to taste them. It had been months since she’d had an olive. And now, when the craving was so strong, was the time to buy them. She asked the merchant for 100 grams. But when she opened her purse to pay, she realized her money had evaporated. She had enough to pay for the candles, but not for the olives. Lucha fruitlessly tried to make up the
difference by counting up the few centavos she had left in her purse, and in that instant don Pedro entered the store. He immediately understood the embarrassing situation in which Lucha found herself and, without thinking twice, extracted from his wallet the coins that were needed to complete the purchase, and put them on the counter, saying:

“Allow me,
por favor.
”

Lucha turned her head to confront a face full of evil, a face which, even when wearing its best smile, was unable to appear kind, and which belonged to none other than the man against whom her husband had won the bet. Lucha delicately, but firmly, refused the coins and replied:

“No. You are very kind, but there’s no need for you to bother. I’ll come back later and pay.”

“A woman as beautiful as you doesn’t deserve to be out walking in the rain. Please accept my humble assistance.”

“Again, I thank you, but that is not necessary. It’s no problem for me to go home and come back again, since I drove here, I didn’t walk here in the rain.”

“Well, at any rate, it doesn’t seem right for you to have to make two trips. Please do not offend me, three centavos are not so important that they will rob anyone of sleep. Grant me the honor of helping you in some small way.”

Don Pedro took Lucha’s right hand and kissed it lightly, effectively ending the discussion. Lucha didn’t know what to do. It was obvious this man had never
accepted no for an answer, and since her craving for the olives had grown even stronger, she chose to say a hurried
gracias
, collect her purchases, and leave the stall with the feeling that she had just done something wrong. She had not liked at all the satisfied smile that appeared on don Pedro’s face when she accepted his money. She didn’t know to what to attribute it. She was unaware that don Pedro had just discovered Júbilo’s Achilles’ heel and now knew exactly where to attack him.

The olives didn’t taste as good as Lucha had expected. Her stomach churned, twisted, and trembled. On the one hand, she felt the disagreeable sensation that she had just done something wrong. On the other, she felt enormous satisfaction at having allowed herself a small pleasure. It was a strange new feeling. Lucha didn’t know how to assimilate what was going on inside her. She felt ashamed, as if she had somehow failed Júbilo. As if she had opened the door of her home to the devil himself. As if Júbilo and she were on the brink of danger, about to face something terrible and unknown. It was a premonition that unsettled and agitated her, provoking a nausea quite unlike anything she had experienced before. It reminded her of the way she had felt the day she met Júbilo, but this was quite different. On that earlier occasion the tickling in her stomach had been very agreeable. She had trembled, yes, but more from pleasure than from anything else. It had seemed like the response of a drum that someone has just struck. Her stomach had been shaken up for a while by the strong vibrations. But now the real
difference was that unlike the first time, when her stomach had been in tune with the loving energy Júbilo had sent her, this time she was responding to something hidden, dark, unknown, denied, but which was there, ready and waiting to shake her completely, to make her resonate with fury, to connect her with its black sun, with its dark light.

Lucha felt that this unknown energy had taken control of her soul. She couldn’t get out of her mind the unpleasant sensation that don Pedro’s lips had produced as they brushed against her hand. It made her sick just to think about it. That kiss had made her feel like a sinner. As if from that moment she had lost her innocence forever. As if she could never get back to who she had been. Trying to calm down, she went to the telegraph office. She wanted to hear Júbilo’s healing laughter. She wanted to feel clean. She wanted to erase that disagreeable feeling and she could only do so in the company of her husband. When she was with him everything looked brighter.

Júbilo was delighted with her unexpected visit. The smile on his face made Lucha momentarily forget her worries. Júbilo’s shining eyes instantly had the same effect on her as the sun’s rays in which she used to luxuriate in the garden of her parents’ house when she wanted to purify her soul. She felt like her old self again, clean, pure, light. Júbilo asked her to wait for a few minutes while he finished attending to a lady customer. It was close to lunchtime and he wanted to go home with her. Lucha
agreed with pleasure and stepped away from the counter to allow her husband to work in peace.

The lady in question was a stallholder from the market who was going through the same thing Lucha had just suffered: she didn’t have enough money to pay for the telegram she needed to send. Lucha’s eyes filled with tears and she turned toward the street so Júbilo wouldn’t notice. But it wasn’t necessary, because her husband, with characteristic generosity, was so focused on solving the lady’s problem that he had eyes only for what he was writing. He had suggested that she allow him to rewrite the message so that she could afford the cost of the telegram. The original telegram read: “I know that I owe you money and I have not been able to pay you. But however, I need ten boxes of tomato. I beg you to send them. As soon as I have sold them I will pay you for everything.” After Júbilo’s intervention, the message read like this: “I have made a good deal. With the sale of ten boxes of tomatoes, I can repay everything I owe you. Please send them urgently.” The message was reduced by eighteen words and in the process Júbilo had not only corrected her grammar and spelling but also ensured that the humble woman really would receive the tomatoes.