Subsequently, her neighbors were polite when … Herewith an et cetera that compressed the action: two-pronged assistance: prepare a wake; bring votives, candles, flowers (the most fragrant), from early till late in the day. The greatest difficulty lay in constructing a wood coffin and finding a spot in the graveyard to dig a grave. A collective, sweaty chore — indeed! so much so that the wake took place without a coffin. An old stranger covered with a sheet. An excess of prayers. Weeping? Only one, she, who didn’t want to hire mourners according to the custom. Zulema was quite afflicted. Her cries were genuine: arising from deep down inside — how could they not be! for her laments stirred up a thousand things. Just imagine her incisive question: what does God have against me? Fated to wait an entire lifetime for her one and only beloved and when finally he arrives at her house brimming with affection — plop!: death: the paradox. Still pending was for someone to inform Abelardo’s children and grandchildren of his demise, but the informing relative was not in Sacramento, and telephones and addresses — if he even knew them — never! So how? A quandary deferred … A quandary to address in stages, this dissemination of information, all in good time, for his children and grandchildren had ventured into far-flung corners of the Mexican territory, not all, just to be clear, but anyway; their desire was none other than to visit the grave of the eminent doctor. One of the sons ordered the construction of a pompous tomb. This was a matter of dignity, for it was not fair for a gentleman of his stature to be buried like a dog. And now as an aside, let us add that Doña Zulema was, as far as can be expected, a model hostess, so much so that she tired of being so, after welcoming (nonstop) his relatives over a five-year period. By the way: strangers kept arriving, and each one gave her money. A business, inadvertent, or divine compensation, still insufficient, considering that the tawdry tale did not even give her the gift of a child. Abelardo left her nothing but three days of lapsed love and — sorrow! for she found few people who were willing to hear in full detail about her one and only real and lasting misfortune. Demetrio, yes, that night, on the eve of his trip to Monclova and then on his way to Sabinas: he heard, and heard, and heard, without asking any questions: exemplary attitude translated into Zulema formulating an ulterior proposition:
“Demetrio, allow me to take on the role of your second mother … As you can see, it is what I need most of all at this point in my life.”
“Okay, I understand what you are proposing … It’s just that for me it’s important to know what being my second mother means to you.”
“Only that you may live in this house whenever you want; only that when I die you will own it.”
“Great, that suits me just fine.”
“If you end up not liking your work on Don Delfín’s ranches, you can return here. You will be near Renata, and you can invest your money and work in Sacramento.”
“Really?”
“Yes, and from now on you should know that my store is yours.”
“But my mother, Telma … hmm … I can’t just forsake her.”
“She’s as forsaken as I am … But do as you like. You could, for example, bring her to live here, she could sell her house and …”
“Look, Aunt, I have to think carefully about everything you are suggesting … But from this point on I accept you as my second mother — by all means!”
Part Three: The Need for Sanctity
24
It’s hard to know whether the earth, midst its thousands of millions of rotative and orbital movements, had tilted a bit or veered slightly off course. Such speculation is germane considering that the weather in October 1946, at least in the central region of Coahuila, was hotter than hell. The population’s consternation was so pronounced that nobody expected the weather to change till November or December, many even fantasizing that Christmas celebrations would be accompanied by fans and perspiration. Which had never happened, but now — phew!: climactic displacement was a reality and perhaps not till January, or even February, would it begin to grow cold, not so cold as to need a heavy coat, but still. Some even thought that the real cold season (the normal one) would not begin till March or April of the following year, and a few, carrying things to an extreme, thought it would never again be cold on the face of the earth, and there would never be rain (not even in jest), and blahblahblah: and as no one knew the exact cause of the phenomenon, almost everyone attributed it to divine retribution. Perhaps human beings had been behaving so badly that they deserved the worst: a perpetual and bruising heat, brutal — right? Hopefully not, others thought: God might apply pressure but is incapable of destroying what he himself had created.