The temporal stride taken here obeys a desire to avoid obvious foreshadowing, such as the call soon made, the appointment, the agreement on a time and place: all in good course, as it were: without obstacles. Instead, let us make note of the smiles of the grand employee and the grand boss, face-to-face, while — let us say — they both drank punch: nibbled on snacks: mouths chewing as if mumbling. Then Demetrio’s preamble: he stammered; he simply couldn’t find the words for his request, considering his dedication to his work, only to drift, let us say gently, to the great responsibilities the management of … No, not that, no! More stammering. Better to endow his request with valor: straight to the issue of a raise, in a whisper, direct, and then: Yes, that’s fine. I’ll give you a small raise: fifteen percent — how does that sound? Starting in January. In the meantime, a Christmas bonus: tomorrow: which would have been his due anyway and which Demetrio had failed to take into account, so, while licking his lips, he scratched his head three times. Not until January, uh-oh, though he didn’t say it, he thought it. Nevertheless, there was the other: the Christmas bonus … more than enough to pay the madam for the services of she who had surely cried — though not excessively — the previous night.
Mireya may have ended up crying even more that same night, for at the last minute Demetrio again decided not to visit her. Emotional punishment, or indolence, or fortitude, or an attempt to stem the lavish outflow of cash: which turned out to be simple. It seems the boss had been expecting his request. Be that as it may, we must add that during the meeting neither devoted a single sentence to the daily doings of the orchard. The owner was well aware of his employee’s efficacy. Therefore the finale, both discreetly bowing, neither daring to offer a parting handshake, then the return and spiritual excitement of he who found news awaiting him at the lodging house: a letter. Rolanda handed it to him almost as if it were a red-hot ember; from whom? his faraway mother, she’d gleaned from reading the back of the envelope. Bad or wonderful news? The surprise revealed in total reclusion. Fanciful speculations with each tearing (few) of paper. Then ensued the clumsy unfolding: three per sheet, but even so it is worth noting the scrupulousness of the maneuver. Then he read:
Dear Son,
I know you are coming to spend Christmas with me. But I’d like you to come sooner and accompany me to a wedding in my hometown. As you know, because of my age and infirmities, I couldn’t possibly attend such an event alone …
To explain, his mother lived in the large house she’d inherited along with an ample amount of cash. Accompanying her were servants — a poorly paid woman and man — who did all the usual chores. She’d been a merry widow for five years. Mother of three: Demetrio, the eldest; and Filpa and Griselda, both married to gringos; one from Seattle, a city that is superior, as a world cultural center, to, let us say, Naples; and the other from Reno, a city that is superior, as a world cultural center, to, let us say, Badajoz; that is, they were out in the world, prisoners of marriages or perhaps already adapted and trained to live out their monotonous and well-ordered lives. Of course, they pretended to be strong, especially as they rarely came to Parras, the nicest town in the state of Coahuila, a world cultural center superior to, let us say, Brussels. And, so, things being what they were, Demetrio was the one left to accompany his mother. The wedding would be held in Sacramento, Coahuila, a world cultural center superior to, let us say, Luxembourg. We must consider, by the way, the long stretch of desert between Parras and Sacramento. A vast expanse without highways, unthinkable for a bus to risk riding on those rugged roads, potholed paths poorly or not at all paved, not even so much as graveled. The marriage would take place on the eighteenth of December; we are now the tenth, so, easy to do the math. The letter continued, though not profusely, not more than a spare sheaf of sententious sentences that softened the initial request: emphasis on the date, the understanding that the mother took for granted her son’s yes, this being the norm, she would say “come” and he would: he let himself be led around like a dog by his master, especially because his mother’s orders were infrequent, thus all the more compelling, as was this one, for it indicated a change of tack. Demetrio noted the careful calligraphy and even imagined his progenitor by candlelight: a bold image, somewhat diluted, but nonetheless … It was inferred that no telegram would follow. Nothing like, “I’ll be there, you can count on me. I’ll go with you.” To leave, yes, and with no thought to the mayhem this might unleash … Departure tomorrow, the day after tomorrow at the latest, just before dawn; indeed, he had no choice … and feeling his way … No, he wouldn’t say good-bye to Mireya, but he would inform his boss … a brief telephone calclass="underline" family affairs, circumstances beyond my control, and bye-bye. Christmas vacation would begin, Demetrio knew, on the eighteenth, so, to repeat: it is the tenth, therefore …
Oh, yes, of course, the bonus: handy, well-earned, right? This shouldn’t cause a problem, so he took care of it himself the following day. He wrote himself a check, for his was an authorized signature. In passing let us make note of the agronomist’s absolute integrity: not one peso more nor one penny less, from which we can infer that he already knew the amount he was due, and, alas! The bad part — each time he rang his boss’s house to discuss the untimely trip, the wife answered — was turning over to an assistant the task of paying accounts due. This the easiest solution, considering his haste, but the responsibility, the possible blame, all yet to be seen … uncertainty: What a concession! How equivocal! But only till his return: in theory: at the beginning of the New Year: oh no! Would everything be okay, God willing!?
After perusing the letter the docile son packed his suitcase. Hastily. He packed carelessly and slept briefly. He counted sheep. He didn’t put on his pajamas.
And …
It took two days (almost three) to get to Parras. The coming rub. Nasty calculus, and, well, what’s done is done, as they say, the agronomist spent the night in his Oaxacan room per usual and left at daybreak for the outskirts of the aforementioned cultural city, where there was a runway for small airplanes.
Now, to regress for a moment, it’s worth mentioning one of Doña Rolanda’s habits: she loved to read the local newspaper. The irregularity of these rustic publications made reading about mundane maladies and natural disasters that much more exciting. One issue a week was the norm, but more normal was for it to fail to appear, though news of great consequence warranted a limited-edition gazette, printed and sold out in a trice: an infrequent occurrence, only in cases of extraordinary events — bad? good? thus it was with the bomb: that perverse achievement that culminated in an explosion and mushroom cloud: though … on the other end of the earth: over there in Japan, thousands dead … That horror, with a host of details, was mentioned one Thursday by the landlady to her fellow diners, who, wholly unconcerned, continued to scoop up her beans. Then came her final flourish: