As I write, a little before eleven at night, I wait for Betito, with fear and uneasiness, for although the curfew has been lifted, policemen and soldiers are swarming in the streets. I will scold him, for his own good, because under these circumstances, at his age and with his enthusiasm, if I give him an inch he will take a mile.
Wednesday May 3
Events are hurtling forward. A few minutes ago I got back from the Alvarados’. Raúl was in the living room with two other doctors; they were drinking whiskey and talking, fiercely indignant. I recognized Dr. Salazar. The other was Dr. Luis Macías, until a few hours ago the director of Rosales Hospital and the head of the delegation that met with the general this afternoon to give him the memorandum demanding he rescind the death sentences and declare a general amnesty. Poor Dr. Macías was quite upset: he was going from the fiercest indignation to terrible shame, from nervous laughter to horror, with astounding ease. He told me what happened at the Presidential Palace: the warlock made them wait for an hour, then he received them, coldly, in his office, told them to remain standing and silent; he took from his desk drawer the memorandum they had given a few minutes earlier to his private secretary and, without uttering a word, picked it up gingerly as if it were filthy, lit a match to it, and threw it on the ground in front of them. “Treason, gentlemen, does not go unpunished in this country,” he said in a threatening voice. “Cowards cannot set conditions for my government, and if you fail to carry out your oaths as doctors, you will pay the price,” he warned them before ordering them to leave and without letting them utter a single word. By the time they got outside, they were trembling, one was on the verge of passing out, and Dr. Macías decided to resign immediately his position as director of the hospital, because after the humiliation he had suffered at the hands of the warlock, he doesn’t feel worthy of leading the doctors in the strike that will be declared any minute now. Raúl and Dr. Salazar insisted he shouldn’t resign, but I understand his reasons, and his actions seem courageous to me, which is what I told him.
The whole day has been hectic, starting early this morning. While I was eating breakfast I suddenly remembered that tomorrow is Carmela’s birthday; with all my running around I’d completely forgotten. Neither Carmela nor Chelón likes parties, they prefer to celebrate their birthdays privately, have a simple meal, but Pericles and I always arrive in the evening with a cake and a gift. I went to the Bonets’ patisserie to order a special chocolate cake with walnuts. Montse waited on me; she told me to come pick it up in the afternoon because she’d heard that the strike will start tomorrow or Friday, and they are not going to open the patisserie. Then I went quickly to La Dalia department store: I bought a lovely brocaded handkerchief for Carmela; Don Pedro told me he’s heard rumors that the warlock plans to execute Dr. Romero on Friday at dawn, he said he will close his store starting tomorrow, it simply isn’t possible to allow that evil man to continue to execute decent people whenever he feels like it. When I returned home, I quickly called the beauty salon; I don’t want to look like a fright for Carmela’s birthday or for my visit to Pericles. Silvia said she’ll be open tomorrow, and she’ll expect me in the morning.
Luz María left a message for me with María Elena: I should stop by her house at two for a cup of coffee so she could show me some sample wedding invitations. I guessed this was about Fabito, because the invitations are already finished. I was right: I talked to Fabito for five minutes because he was in a rush. He told me I should give any funds I collect for the strike to Luz María, she is the safest channel and will always know how to get in touch with him. I asked him about Chente; he told me he is fine, but he couldn’t give me any details. And as to the date the strike would begin, he emphasized that the time had come, there was no reason to wait any longer, they (the students) have already been on strike for a week, and the goal is to create a snowball effect. Then he left. Luz María, who was never the sharpest knife in the drawer, asked what he meant by “a snowball effect”; then she told me — after warning me it was a secret I shouldn’t repeat to anybody — that Fabito is the treasurer of the Student Strike Committee and, according to him, financial support is flowing in generously from all sides.
Doña Chayito came over before dinner with the news that the movie theater employees have already gone out on strike, and they will be closed as of today; she gave me a copy of the communiqué with this announcement and demands for the government to declare a general amnesty. Most of these theaters belong to the general and his family; it will undoubtedly be particularly hurtful that his own employees have been the first to go on strike. Doña Chayito was, as always, her energetic self and expressed confidence that the strike will force the warlock to step down and then our family members will be set free. She expressed regret, however, that the movie houses were closing because — she spoke in an undertone and gave me a wink — sensitive meetings were held in those dark theaters. According to her, the general strike will start tomorrow. And she invited me to a Mass that will be held on Friday at El Rosario Church for the peace of the souls executed by the general.
This is the second consecutive night I finish writing in this notebook and Betito still hasn’t arrived. He didn’t even come home for lunch: he called to say he was at Henry’s and would have dinner at Flaco’s. I don’t like quarrelling with him over the phone. While we were eating breakfast I asked him to be very careful, to come home for meals and early at night, but my warnings went in one ear and out the other. I asked María Elena if she knew anything about his activities, for I spent a good part of the day out of the house; she said he hadn’t returned since he left in the morning. Right now I have to think of the best way to confront him, try to figure out what Pericles would do in this situation.
María Elena regretted not being able to taste the cake; I also would have liked to have a piece to sweeten the wait for Betito. We both love chocolate, but María Elena collects recipes and asks me to buy ingredients for baking. A few months ago she told me she’d love to work as an apprentice a few hours a week at the Bonets’, if I could ask Montse if that were possible, but with all this turmoil, I simply haven’t had a chance. I admire her efforts to better herself. God willing, Belka, my lovely little girl, will inherit this and other virtues.
Thursday May 4
The first thing I did when I got out of bed this morning was call Carmela and wish her a happy birthday; every year since we became friends at school I’ve done the same thing: we each try to be the first person to wish the other one a happy birthday. Then, in this morning’s newspaper — the official “yellow rag” as Pericles calls it — I learned that the government announced the release of civilians who had remained imprisoned for their participation in the failed coup. I immediately started calling everybody I could think of to make sure it was true, for although my husband didn’t participate in the uprising, the fact that they were freeing the coup participants, who actually attacked the general, meant that they would also free Pericles. None of the other women in the committee knew anything; we were all quite excited, moving heaven and earth to find out what was happening. Until finally Doña Consuelo learned that it was one of the warlock’s tricks: he released those who had been arrested by mistake, those who were still in jail but hadn’t actually participated in the coup and had no record of political activity. I was so outraged I felt sick. How can he play with people’s feelings in such a despicable way?! If I didn’t despair it was thanks to the intense energy and excitement one feels in the streets, in every home, everywhere, a kind of magnetism in the air, and also thinks to the fact that María Elena brought me back to reality when she returned from the market and told me the vendors won’t open their stands tomorrow, they all say the city will wake up at a standstill, without banks or stores or hospitals or pharmacies, and of course without a market, and many people were buying emergency provisions. Mother did so for us: she went in the car with Don Leo and Juani.