Felipe Alfau - Chromos

Roofs projecting from the ground; treacherous roofs of Jauja. A man is likely to walk unnoticingly onto one of these roofs and then fall down and break his neck. Animals walk on them. One can often see the head of a burro looming about four stories above the street. In Jauja streets run above and below. Topography and dirt have done for Jauja what engineering and steel are trying to do for modern cities. Why should one worry and not be lazy in Jauja when things can be achieved without toil?

Walking onto those roofs of Jauja, one experiences the feeling of attaining height without the effort of rising, as if the world sank to look up at one, or walked resigned, indifferent, below.

Most disconcerting, almost demoralizing roofs. Such is one’s memory of Jauja; a somber town and broken houses seeking their level on the slanting ground.

And it was from this city that Sandoval and his family came to Madrid so many years ago.

The purpose of Señor Sandoval’s trip was to establish himself as a jeweler. He was not coming to Madrid in full ignorance as other people who come there from second-rate towns. He had weighed this step at length and had even discussed it with his wife.

Sandoval was well provided for Madrid. He had a nice frock coat, it was not the latest fashion, but it was immaculate and it became him. He had a good top hat and underneath that a great deal of cunning and common sense; this, overshadowed by much ambition.

In Jauja he had owned a small silversmith and junk shop where he developed a vague idea of what the jewelry business might be, a business which had always lured his commercially romantic mind with the glamour one naturally associates with it.

For that reason and dreaming of jewelry shops in large cities, Sandoval had never learned to respect his own little business and regarded it with contempt.

He was loath to waste time on it by bargaining over petty transactions, but as Spaniards are fond of bargaining even in Jauja, Sandoval would invariably say to a customer: “This merchandise is worth fifty centimes, you can have it for ten.” And he insisted that in this way he had saved himself four long grueling arguments and made a five centimes clear profit.

Nevertheless the business had lost a great deal. Everything in the shop was in tumultuous disorder. It was almost impossible to find an object there.

People walked into the stores and asked for something and Sandoval after several vain attempts to locate the object told them to come around the next week, that he knew it was somewhere in there but that he could not find it.

The customer went away and never returned, and Don Mariano Sandoval filed another grudge against Jauja.

It was obvious that Don Mariano had no interest in the little shop, that he resented its pettiness and filth and that he considered himself and his family entitled to something better.

One day Sandoval was in his shop alone with young Ledesma, the boy who helped him and who was supposed to run errands, although he had not been given an opportunity to display his zeal.

Not one single sale had taken place that week and people had only come into the shop to talk, kill time and spit on the floor. This particular day it was raining and no one had come.

Young Ledesma was sitting by the window reading and Señor Sandoval walked up and down looking at the shelves with scorn and shaking his head before them in silent reproach.

He stopped before Ledesma: “Listen.”

Ledesma closed the book and stood up.

“I don’t mind your reading all you want as long as this lasts. Since there is nothing else to do, you may as well broaden your culture.”

“Well, sir?”

“I don’t feel like working here myself. Who the devil is going to undertake putting all this junk in order? The whole thing does not deserve it.”

“You must have ambition; you read a great deal and people who read a great deal sometimes have much ambition. Undoubtedly you want to get somewhere in life, but this place does not give you an opportunity. No one can get anywhere sitting on this junk pile. Have you thought of that?”

Young Ledesma had not thought of that but now he did. He looked at his master and waited a few moments to make his answer true: “Yes sir, I have.”

“Naturally! And I think that a young serious man like you would have a much better opportunity in a larger city, like for instance, Madrid.”

Young Ledesma was following his master’s thoughts closely. He knew now what the latter was driving at. The question came and it did not surprise him.

“Would you like to go to Madrid?” And Ledesma answered without hesitation: “Caramba, sir! I’d love it.”

“Well then; I have decided to move to Madrid. I am going to sell all this out and establish myself in the capital in a real jewelry business and I thought that if you wanted and your father consents, I will take you along to help me run the business before taking some unknown person whom I might not trust with what I don’t have.”

“Sir, I’ll work like a slave for you. I want to thank you. I will work for you like a burro, or like something that works very much, sir.”

“You better had. I don’t mind your reading here, as I said. The place does not deserve attention, but there you will have to work real hard and forget about books — these books anyway. After all, reading is not a very good occupation. It is well to read when one has nothing better to do, but life is not that bad.”

“I will work hard, sir. I will slave for you. And I won’t read another book. Why should I read about things if I am going to see them?”

“That’s right, my boy, and remember that when you work for me, you are working for yourself.”

Ledesma was to remember this many times in his life, but he did not know it then and his answer was candid: “I know that, sir, and thank you.”

“Tonight you obtain your father’s permission and we will be leaving as soon as I can get this off my hands.”

When young Ledesma asked his father that night, his father was classic: “Go, go in peace. Señor Sandoval will take better care of you than I can. I won’t be long here now. He is very kind to take you to Madrid. Thank him for me and go with my blessing.”

After this speech, old man Ledesma should have died with his hand raised in the act of blessing to round up the scene, but he waited a few months instead.

Having resolved to move to Madrid, Sandoval could scarcely wait to sell the business and be on his way. He became irascible and hated the shop and all its contents. He was in a hurry to sell out, he could not even stand the town any longer. The obsession of a jewelry shop in Madrid pursued him day and night.

“You must not want things in such a hurry,” said his wife Rosario one day. “It makes you suffer.”

“Well, that is my temperament I suppose I inherit it. Probably the children will inherit it too. One should get things when one wants them, provided one wants them enough; otherwise, by the time one gets them, one does not want them any longer.”

Fortunately Don Mariano did not have to wait long. A man offered to buy his business.

Sandoval was so impatient that he did not even want to make an inventory of the shop. He simply took the man around and told him to look the store over, get an idea of its value and make a flat offer.

The man did so and his offer was entirely too flat and sounded ridiculous. Madame Sandoval was indignant, especially when she saw her husband ready to accept.

“This is literally throwing things away, Mariano. It is a crime. After all, this is worth something. We have lived on it.”

“Yes, and how we have lived! If you call that living. That is why I hate it so.”

“You are insane with impatience now and behaving like a fool. You don’t care what happens as long as you go to Madrid.”