Daniel Sada - Almost Never

Night. A long and continuous slumber! Utmost to arrange, before boarding, the purchase of sedatives so they could sleep at least ten hours. They wandered around and found, and also bought, sandwiches as well as a generous helping of dulce de leche candies and candied peanuts. Necessary baggage, a semblance of abundance — undoubtedly!? Once seated they ate their fill, and the train departed. They would sleep sitting down but — careful! — : not snuggled up against each other, only their eyes told the adjacent passengers — what? let’s see, that they really loved each other? No, no point in that. Just the shared sweats, the bother of wiping away ticklish trickles in full snooze: how awkward to awaken like that! Demetrio’s strategy consisted of maintaining a certain distance, which enabled him to rise from his seat whenever he pleased and thereby avoid, needless to say, waking the brunette. Hence the contemplative strolls up and down the train corridors. To caper at will … ah: he would dare, he would do it, he would get off at one of the next stations, but not before ascertaining that Mireya was completely unconscious.

The aforesaid should also be considered in light of other details: once they were filled full of sandwiches (two each), and traditional sweets (three each), they swallowed the sleeping pills as planned. Mireya took two: the prescribed dose, according to Demetrio. And he, well, he only pretended to ingest his. He did not swallow what she did. Rather, he held the pills on his tongue, tolerating the bitterness as well as he could or, more precisely, until he saw his sex goddess asleep. Eight or nine minutes passed, a lapse filled with disagreeable disintegration, a matter of discipline, until finally — out, out, you tiny yellow pills!: remove them and place them in his shirt pocket and all set and remain calm, had to, because when he asked the ticket inspector how long it would be before they got to the next station, he heard him whisper, an hour more or less, God willing … So, an hour of intellectual proliferation. The fading of the Oaxacan chapters. What had been a plethora and might never be repeated. Nevertheless, the almost outstanding future: to live with a whore — what?! — besides building her a house and continuing to struggle for a happiness that, how could it ever be; a heroic feat, indeed, such a red-hot entanglement everlasting and so to do one’s duty, comply! Comply for years with the crass obligation of screwing consistently, and when their old age came upon them, to what end alas. Moreover, the kid? What would become of him? Ugh! Nervously awaiting the birth to see a resemblance, if any: his eyes, her mouth; his nose, her eyebrows, or some other less obvious physiological repartition, that, yes, ultimately, or maybe nothing, and then what? Mellifluous life … A growing doubt … Little certainty that mattered … Not that, absolutely not, right? It was not in Demetrio’s interest to do something so far removed from his sentimental convictions. Nevertheless, he began to caress the hair of the sleeping, defeated woman, as if he were petting a cat, and it was palpable that in the depths of that lascivious soul there resided a spirit filled with goodness. The occult part of an occult faith that can reach great heights. Perhaps hidden within was the lushest honesty, but the scoria … so many layers of depravity … sex that refines eternal vibrations … So no, flat-out, no, right? To leave her there asleep would not be tragic but rather the natural upshot of a steamy transaction. For his part, he hoped Mireya would arrive safely in Saltillo. Certainly finding herself in a bind — indeed — she wouldn’t be so foolish as to not find a job as a first-rate whore. Dignity, pure and marvelous, right? Even Demetrio had faith that she would become a queen overnight, an unparalleled goddess of pleasure, in whatever house of prostitution she found. With such a body … In fact, and viewing things from a different angle, the moment she awoke, her lover wouldn’t be there, but she still had four headcheese sandwiches, six dulce de leche candies, and four bags of candied peanuts, as well as a surprise of some consequence: a big wad of bills. Demetrio, before detraining at the next station, will have carefully placed the aforementioned wad in her bra. Therewith, we reach an appropriate place to tie things up.

And now we can open, unfurl …

He waited at the top of the stairs, money-filled suitcase in hand. Lights were visible in the nocturnal distance: a forlorn hamlet. His arrival, like attrition. At that station, virtually virtual, seven people descended, among them Demetrio, who once his feet touched the ground quickened his pace without planning his route in the slightest. There was a flicker as of embers in the distance and a bright gas lamp in the station … In 1946 only 40 percent of the country had permanent electric lighting … Here, therefore, none: not even a shy sixty-watt bulb, only (and perhaps to the agronomist’s benefit) the merest glimmer: a flame cipher, or barely a brushstroke: such weaknesses everywhere, all the more reason to fling himself headlong into the hazard of the haphazard. Quickly now, propelled forward by the dread of Mireya perking up and pursuing him in a panic: a futile pursuit through the darkness, fruitless clamors; and Demetrio’s tentative advance, wishing only to secure for himself an enveloping and beneficent silence. One thing he knew: not to return to the station, where the brunette might be lying in wait.

Such a thought brought heavy perspiration. Onward, onward: trouble: barking dogs: an explosion of barks, but no sign of agile bodies eager to bite, and Demetrio: cautious: where could he go risk free? Avoid the mud huts, scattered about or clumped together on the wavering horizon. The only adobe building was the train station. Would knowledge of the hamlet’s name be useful? Should he find it out? Better to take to the hills.

If the constant barking frightened him, hearing a voice would have frightened him even more, for to be found soon, a shamefaced discovery, especially with that suitcase full of banknotes, for then: aha, a holdup, aha: to explain why he’d fled: the simplest deduction if captured by more than one. Also, a holdup in such a forsaken setting: divvying up the loot in the dark among the lucky locals: an oblique hypothesis … so improbable. Or maybe they’d call to him from afar: Sir, we have your wife here!!! Come get her, please!!! Or even: Sir, your wife is crying. Don’t leave. Don’t abandon her!!!! In that case, undoubtedly, the brunette would wait at the station until they caught the irresponsible wayfarer: the hunt on horseback, and Godspeed! and with a pack of dogs to sniff him out … At such a thought, Demetrio hastened his pace as much as he could: bad, good, and again bad or rather unhappy, for he could hear the pounding of his own heart as well his own footfalls: would speed resound?: this question slowed him down, then more beats and more steps if only to establish a definitive distance from any such mishap. Before him lay the curve of the night, punctuated by a chaos of stars. No more flickers of huts, nor qualms arising from them. It was good to see a hint of the moon in the crown of a tree. Our wayfarer had to pass that apparition for any relief. He still had a long way to savor it, though suddenly he stopped, because carrying that suitcase … No, he didn’t want to look back, it would be a bad omen. Hence, he set his sights north … where else? The remaining traces of light showed him silhouettes of cacti, huisache, and a rough and tangled tumbleweed, and farther on — perhaps — a jumble of scrub. He knew to avoid such shapes because coiled snakes were known to doze beneath them, his ranch experience now coming in quite handy. As for wanting to sleep, he would have to do so on a flat patch far from any underbrush or spiny shapes, on the hard ground, seen for what it was. But, where could he find such a spot? How much farther had he to go? Demetrio walked about two and a half miles and finally … He could use his suitcase as a pillow. We must take into account the cold winds, and he jacketless and … To sleep exposed but with the certainty that nobody was pursuing him. Otherwise he would have already been found! Demetrio thought he discerned flashing lights behind him: rude and provocative shouts ordering him to stop, or else … Well, let’s imagine shots from a rifle or a pistol, aggressive houndings, a clamor from behind — is that all? In the end, rejected hypotheticals in favor of commodious accommodations, to stretch out fully across the hide of the earth. He’d surely have aches and pains the next morning for not having lain on any padding whatsoever. Demetrio in the guise of a log, and overhead, a world of unknowns: coyotes might approach while he slept. A sniff or two, then gone: contingencies. He would remain rigidly still if he happened to open his eyes. Maybe keep within reach … To be attacked would be quite unfortunate, but why steep oneself in fear?