Daniel Sada - Almost Never

Renata.

The reinforcement of decency. The girl’s mother could finally observe from close up the lack of groping. Or, rather, a kiss on the mouth — never! nor on the cheek. Or, rather, to hurtle into marriage, ask for her hand, a ring, a wedding date: ascent, or merely the turn to the horizontal so that Demetrio could get a glimpse at the details of the script: all fucking must result in children, whence the supremely obvious was derived: having to work like a dog to support such a large, sacrosanct! pack, because that’s the way things were. Sex with responsibility. Sex with a gush that brings forth fruit, in the name of a peace that must always remain muffled. Too many binding fetters, or rather, one had to gauge it in some other way: a paid prostitute in perpetuity, in order to attain the guaranteed benefit of sex and an almost improbable serenity. As well as the joy of the children — beautiful? green-eyed? always smiling? hopefully! To put everything on the line, believing the witchcraft would be forever beneficial. A sharp turn. Path. Light. An all-embracing formula. No more lascivious confusion. No more offal. Demetrio stroked the pink page as if he were caressing with delight the skin of that beauty in order to absorb it, as if he could glue it onto his spirit. Annealed eternal love. Adherence and release. The truth was that Renata was pushing him toward a defining sentiment that would lead him onto the right path.

The sanctity of sex — abiding? Yes, yes, yes: relief, spaciousness.

And now (ahem) — why didn’t Renata come out in person to tell him what she had written? Could she have saved herself the long vigil, because — how many versions of that very brief mes-sage did she draft with her mother? The handwriting was unbelievable in its perfection, but — what for? for if they’d spoken on the bench they could have abounded in dozens of details. Plans, subtle revisions, and a grope here or there as well, sidelong and almost without meaning to. Bah, but she, as usual, had to play hard to get. She gave herself too many airs — her mother’s advice — all to give him to understand that the acme of true love was still far away. More and more scrambling up steep escarpments. The air more and more rarefied but healthful nonetheless …

It was advantageous that Doña Telma was in Sacramento. She, as well as his aunt Zulema, would be overjoyed after reading the pink page.

Therefore, a conclusion in pantomime. Not another night spent on the bench, for the proof of his love had been long and monomaniacal, maybe even mature, if that’s what we’re going for — or what else?

All that followed had a touch of the ridiculous about it. Demetrio had to show the blessed letter to those women who were waiting eagerly to hear tell of his adventure in the plaza; however, before anything else, he said he was very hungry. So first came the rectifying assault on whatever was edible and easily dished up. Bread alone, no beans, no nothing, so: a cold plateful, though filling. No, the big guy shouldn’t care about anything other than quickly extricating himself from his stomach’s necessities and, chewing four rolls, two pelonas, and two conchas, poorly and in great haste, all he could say with his mouth full was: Here’s what Renata wrote me. Read it! The truth was, it was a true delight to pull that all-important sheet out of the pink envelope, unfold it, and: let’s see: two bespectacled readers, their heads almost knocking against each other. Doña Zulema was the one who read it out loud in a sarcastic tone. She must have found happiness amusing.

All that followed had a touch of haste about it, or rather, of jostling, because all three wanted to talk at once. A jumble of quaint emotings within which the word “marriage” rang out most frequently. It’s true the ladies were enticed by other good words, but the glint of the main one did not dim no matter how much garrulity was spewed. Demetrio could only listen to them and feel flustered, because their chatter seemed to be oozing out at a rhythm as swift as it was dissonant, leaving no room at all for a “listen, in my opinion” from him. If it was Demetrio’s arduous task to keep track of that senile pandemonium, it would have been even graver for him to impose any measure, even more so when at a certain point Doña Telma asserted that the three of them would go to Renata’s house that very afternoon. Clues in the message revealed the need for prompt action, and any delay would complicate further what already promised to be a true torment, because, let’s take a look: just how long and how mollifying would be the explanatory episode that would precede the request for her hand. Then the yes or the no with the buts, perhaps absurd, or who knows what surprises Doña Luisa had in store for them. As for the big guy himself, suffice it to say that he wandered about in a daze. He hadn’t slept well on that bench, so all this shared rejoicing seemed like a fantasy of cartoon figures who refused to keep still: their sheer drive, their sheer agreement as to who would bathe first and who next in the cedar tub; Demetrio, last, for he was the least important person on this occasion. In fact, his presence wasn’t strictly necessary, or he could play the part of the dejected puppet, whereas they, supporting each other to the hilt, would carry the thread of the apologies that would lead to the highly desired result that Renata would marry him: he would then act out the unsurpassed role of presenting the engagement ring to his fiancée. A silent act — understood? — so optimal.

Demetrio sat at some remove from the kitchen table and watched with derision as the ladies made decisions without even consulting him, somnolent as he was: his approval, his disapproval, his glee, his anger. Nothing. Already a puppet. A wimp: affable or resigned? Yes, a rag doll when it suited him, for he would end up with his part to play at the moment of truth, on stage he’d let her rip, the element of surprise: emotive, most definitely. For now, reserve — the inverse! So, let them be: go right ahead, do as you wish! and … of course … so immersed in their activities, so full of themselves, so — what could he say to them? Go for it, believe what you will!? In the meantime he figured he should bathe as he never had before and dress up as he never had before; a suit and tie — right? A new hairdo: combed all the way back without a part down the middle — why? A ton of pomade — more than ever! What a notion and then … Now let’s turn to the picturesque: three slow and winsome pedestrians, not indifferent to the eminent gawkers on the street: a bit perplexed or a bit like statues trying to figure out … The way to the event: where does it lead? better to follow the trio because soon they will disappear: a pleasant dash into … It was a question of falling in behind them: some did. But they came to a halt at a bench in the plaza, we can guess which one. And the conjectures on the side: oh: how many would deduce that the hand of Doña Luisa Tirado’s daughter was at stake, she who would get naked and have children after she got married. Such a pity! The radiant flower was departing. A dark vision, but logical, and ultimately diaphanous, for soon other appetizing flowers would bloom and then others and others and so on. The natural had drifted too far away to think naturally, as the world turned on its axis without pausing for even a second. And the sequel to the transformations, with their wake of defeats and victories that were not now nor ever would be so definitive. To go and go and know without knowing for certain. For now, the crass picturesque: observed. The trio did not sit down on the usual bench. The big guy appeared to be telling a boy to let them know that … And Doña Luisa and her relic emerged from the stationery store. Timid and nonplussed, they approached the bench. We must say, the aroma of perfume permeating the skin and clothes of the trio had already spread into a wide radius around them. They dragged along yards of scent, which now ravaged the mother and daughter, and — phew! or could it be that they, who looked so poorly clad compared to the trio, decided to keep their noses in the air and that’s why the flowery aroma became noxious to them. Be that as it may, whether fortitude forged from surprise or plain old woe or something even worse, Doña Luisa exclaimed: All three of you are welcome, but you will have to wait here because my daughter and I have to make ourselves presentable. Not for more than half an hour, and then it will be our pleasure to welcome you into our home. They waited almost three hours. The two bathed as serenely as could be, and not before they had first counted up their day’s receipts. We must also take into account the slow pace at which they adorned themselves with fripperies and the preparation of a laborious tea. Also their art of table arranging, the placing of their least dinged pewterware. And other such trifles.