Swift as Desire Part 2

The opportunity to buy something new made Lucha very happy. One could even go so far as to say that the purchase of that shawl literally changed her life. She discovered an article of clothing that was truly not only useful but beautiful. From that moment forward, the shawl became an indispensable accessory to her attire. With her new shawl over her shoulders, Lucha walked tall. She felt like a different woman. It was the first time since getting married that she had shopped for clothes. She was so excited that on her way home, she stopped to buy some candles at another stand in the market. On the counter was a jar of chiles in vinegar, and another filled with olives. The smell of the olives filled the air. Lucha couldn't resist buying some: she had an irresistible urge to taste them. It had been months since she'd had an olive. And now, when the craving was so strong, was the time to buy them. She asked the merchant for 100 grams. But when she opened her purse to pay, she realized her money had evaporated. She had enough to pay for the candles, but not for the olives. Lucha fruitlessly tried to make up the difference by counting up the few centavos she had left in her purse, and in that instant don Pedro entered the store. He immediately understood the embarra.s.sing situation in which Lucha found herself and, without thinking twice, extracted from his wallet the coins that were needed to complete the purchase, and put them on the counter, saying: "Allow me, por favor."

Lucha turned her head to confront a face full of evil, a face which, even when wearing its best smile, was unable to appear kind, and which belonged to none other than the man against whom her husband had won the bet. Lucha delicately, but firmly, refused the coins and replied: "No. You are very kind, but there's no need for you to bother. I'll come back later and pay."

"A woman as beautiful as you doesn't deserve to be out walking in the rain. Please accept my humble a.s.sistance."

"Again, I thank you, but that is not necessary. It's no problem for me to go home and come back again, since I drove here, I didn't walk here in the rain."

"Well, at any rate, it doesn't seem right for you to have to make two trips. Please do not offend me, three centavos are not so important that they will rob anyone of sleep. Grant me the honor of helping you in some small way."

Don Pedro took Lucha's right hand and kissed it lightly, effectively ending the discussion. Lucha didn't know what to do. It was obvious this man had never accepted no for an answer, and since her craving for the olives had grown even stronger, she chose to say a hurried gracias, collect her purchases, and leave the stall with the feeling that she had just done something wrong. She had not liked at all the satisfied smile that appeared on don Pedro's face when she accepted his money. She didn't know to what to attribute it. She was unaware that don Pedro had just discovered Jubilo's Achilles' heel and now knew exactly where to attack him.

The olives didn't taste as good as Lucha had expected. Her stomach churned, twisted, and trembled. On the one hand, she felt the disagreeable sensation that she had just done something wrong. On the other, she felt enormous satisfaction at having allowed herself a small pleasure. It was a strange new feeling. Lucha didn't know how to a.s.similate what was going on inside her. She felt ashamed, as if she had somehow failed Jubilo. As if she had opened the door of her home to the devil himself. As if Jubilo and she were on the brink of danger, about to face something terrible and unknown. It was a premonition that unsettled and agitated her, provoking a nausea quite unlike anything she had experienced before. It reminded her of the way she had felt the day she met Jubilo, but this was quite different. On that earlier occasion the tickling in her stomach had been very agreeable. She had trembled, yes, but more from pleasure than from anything else. It had seemed like the response of a drum that someone has just struck. Her stomach had been shaken up for a while by the strong vibrations. But now the real difference was that unlike the first time, when her stomach had been in tune with the loving energy Jubilo had sent her, this time she was responding to something hidden, dark, unknown, denied, but which was there, ready and waiting to shake her completely, to make her resonate with fury, to connect her with its black sun, with its dark light.

Lucha felt that this unknown energy had taken control of her soul. She couldn't get out of her mind the unpleasant sensation that don Pedro's lips had produced as they brushed against her hand. It made her sick just to think about it. That kiss had made her feel like a sinner. As if from that moment she had lost her innocence forever. As if she could never get back to who she had been. Trying to calm down, she went to the telegraph office. She wanted to hear Jubilo's healing laughter. She wanted to feel clean. She wanted to erase that disagreeable feeling and she could only do so in the company of her husband. When she was with him everything looked brighter.

Jubilo was delighted with her unexpected visit. The smile on his face made Lucha momentarily forget her worries. Jubilo's s.h.i.+ning eyes instantly had the same effect on her as the sun's rays in which she used to luxuriate in the garden of her parents' house when she wanted to purify her soul. She felt like her old self again, clean, pure, light. Jubilo asked her to wait for a few minutes while he finished attending to a lady customer. It was close to lunchtime and he wanted to go home with her. Lucha agreed with pleasure and stepped away from the counter to allow her husband to work in peace.

The lady in question was a stallholder from the market who was going through the same thing Lucha had just suffered: she didn't have enough money to pay for the telegram she needed to send. Lucha's eyes filled with tears and she turned toward the street so Jubilo wouldn't notice. But it wasn't necessary, because her husband, with characteristic generosity, was so focused on solving the lady's problem that he had eyes only for what he was writing. He had suggested that she allow him to rewrite the message so that she could afford the cost of the telegram. The original telegram read: "I know that I owe you money and I have not been able to pay you. But however, I need ten boxes of tomato. I beg you to send them. As soon as I have sold them I will pay you for everything." After Jubilo's intervention, the message read like this: "I have made a good deal. With the sale of ten boxes of tomatoes, I can repay everything I owe you. Please send them urgently." The message was reduced by eighteen words and in the process Jubilo had not only corrected her grammar and spelling but also ensured that the humble woman really would receive the tomatoes.

The problem was that this gave Lucha time to be alone with her thoughts again and to dwell on what had happened at the market. She blamed it all on her lack of money. If she had had sufficient funds, she wouldn't have had to accept don Pedro's offer of help. Financial constraints caused all kind of embarra.s.sments. Right now, this poor woman, with whom she completely identified, was suffering because of a lack of money, just as she had been at the market. She didn't like experiencing poverty, being exposed to it. It made her feel vulnerable and helpless. It terrified her to be dependent on a poor man. The world was made for the rich. Poor people had no opportunities. Now she understood why the Mexican Revolution had happened. Being poor was horrible. And if it hadn't been for accompanying Jubilo all over the country, she could never have imagined the conditions under which thousands of Mexicans were living. She knew Europe better than she knew her own country, and it hurt her now to discover its misery. Eating a bowl of soup at home takes money. Producing the fruits of the earth costs money. Traveling takes money. Building a house requires money. Installing telegraph lines takes money. Communicating with loved ones means money. And when a woman depends on someone else to get money, she can't make her own decisions. He who pays, rules. Those with money determine what, when, and how much a peasant eats. What kind of corn he plants. Even when the chickens should lay their eggs! It didn't seem fair to Lucha that one had to pay to send a telegram. That someone else could control contact between people; that only those who could pay for it could use a form of communicating that should belong to everyone. All this was bothering Lucha, and many other things, because she wasn't accustomed to anyone telling her what to do with her life. The only thing that made her happy again was that Jubilo had just finished helping the stallholder and they could now go home.

Being close to Jubilo was an immediate comfort. By his side, all her problems disappeared, there were no insurmountable obstacles. Jublio had that gift. Lack of money immediately became unimportant. He didn't need cash to caress his wife's hand, to look into her eyes, to kiss her pa.s.sionately, and to enjoy his erection. As soon as they got home they rushed into the bedroom to make wild love. Lucha was in the process of enjoying the way Jubilo's p.e.n.i.s caressed her as never before, so she was greatly surprised when he brusquely separated from her.

"You feel different, Lucha. You're not the same."

Lucha's heart nearly stopped. She felt she had been found out. She didn't know how, but she suspected that Jubilo already knew that she had accepted three centavos from don Pedro. She averted her eyes so Jubilo wouldn't see her bewilderment, and she rapidly began to search for a believable excuse, but she only managed to stammer: "Different? How?"

Jubilo didn't answer her. Instead he touched her belly with the palm of his hand and studied it. Suddenly he let out a loud laugh that filled the whole room.

"You're pregnant, mi amor! You're pregnant!"

He began to cover her with kisses. Lucha was stunned. It was true that her period was a week late, but since it was only such a short time she hadn't thought anything about it.

"How do you know?" she asked.

"I felt it. I can't explain it, but you have a different energy."

It was the first time Lucha had heard anything like that. She knew Jubilo had especially sensitive hands, but she couldn't imagine his powers extended that far. Yet she wanted to believe him. It wasn't that implausible. And once she thought about it a little, she decided in fact it was more than likely. Perhaps you could compare it to the way, by putting one hand on a patient's stomach and tapping gently on it with the other, a doctor can make a diagnosis from the way the sound echoes off the internal organs. It was possible that Jubilo could hear the way her womb echoed.

Lucha stopped doubting him, and immediately accepted that she was indeed pregnant. She had to believe it. That was the only explanation for the dizziness and nausea she had felt when don Pedro had kissed her hand. It was the only thing that made sense. And seen from that perspective, what she had done didn't seem so wrong. A pregnant woman's craving was sufficient excuse to salve her conscience. After all, if she hadn't satisfied that craving, she would have risked her baby being born with a face like an olive. With tears in her eyes, she hugged Jubilo and together they celebrated the wonderful news, unaware that fate had already chosen them as victims of misfortune.

Chapter 5.

DON JuBILO WOKE UP PANTING. For the last few days he had been having a recurring nightmare. He was diving at the bottom of the ocean, without an oxygen tank, but breathing as if he had one. His movements were slow and rhythmic. The water was warm and pleasant-a few brightly colored fish accompanied him as he swam. A soft light allowed him to see into the distance. Suddenly, he heard a murmur of voices, followed by laughter. The sounds were coming from the surface. Jubilo lifted his head and observed the bright sunlight filtering through the water, making it sparkle. At that moment, for no apparent reason, he recognized where he was. It was the place where he had first learned to swim. He recognized the waters as those that had washed over the beach in front of his parents' house so long ago. Jubilo was certain of it. And the laughter he heard in the distance belonged to his grandmother, Itzel; his mother, dona Jesusa; and his father, don Librado. Jubilo wanted to join the group to share in their laughter. He tried to swim ash.o.r.e and get out of the water, but his feet were anch.o.r.ed in the sand. Try as he might he couldn't move them. Then he started to shout, but no one could hear him. The sounds that came out of his mouth were trapped in air bubbles, but when they reached the surface and burst, no sound was released. Jubilo was growing desperate. He shouted louder and louder, but things only got worse. Water began to enter his lungs, he began to drown, and n.o.body could help him. Fortunately, this time his daughter Lluvia had arrived to awaken him.

"Papi, your friends are here. What's the matter? Did you have a bad dream?"

Don Jubilo nodded his head. For a month now he had been practically unable to speak. He had to make enormous efforts for a few tentative sounds to issue from his mouth, but they were unfortunately totally incomprehensible to those who heard them.

Faced with this situation, Lluvia had immediately begun to search for a telegraph machine. The first place she went to had once been a telegraph office, but when she asked about a transmitter they nearly laughed at her. The telegraph transmitter, as such, had disappeared years ago and no one knew where she could find one. Then it occurred to her that perhaps she might be able to find one at Lagunilla, the flea market, but after several fruitless visits she gave up. She had no choice but to focus her search on antiques shops. She had to visit quite a few, both in the capital and in the provinces, before she found one at last.

When she finally had the telegraph transmitter she immediately wanted to show it to her father, but then she hesitated. She didn't want to do anything that might upset him. As soon as her father saw it, he would surely want to use it, and it might turn out to be very frustrating for him to send messages that no one could understand. Her children then informed her that a software program existed that allowed one to enter information into the computer via a telegraph transmitter, in Morse code, instead of through a regular keyboard. The computer would then "translate" the information from the telegraph into spoken words and display them on the monitor. That way everyone would be able to understand what her papa was "saying." Lluvia thought it was an amazing invention and she had immediately ordered a copy, but it would take nearly three weeks to arrive by mail. So as not to waste any time, she decided to learn to use the telegraph machine herself in the meantime, or at least to take a basic course that would allow her to understand without the computer the first words her father would "speak." The first person she asked for help was don Chucho, her father's childhood friend. But unfortunately he was unable to help, because his wife had had a stroke and had to be hospitalized.

Next she called Reyes, her father's old friend from work, to see if he could teach her Morse code. Aurorita, her father's nurse, was also eager to learn: she didn't want to be left behind. She had been don Jubilo's nurse long enough to have formed a solid, affectionate relations.h.i.+p with him. Over the years don Jubilo had become her close friend, her confidant, her adviser. Thanks to his wise advice Aurorita had learned how to handle the crises in her marriage better, to laugh at her problems, and to look at life positively. She was so grateful to don Jubilo that she would do anything she could to somehow repay the affection and support he had selflessly bestowed on her. So now Aurorita devoted the same attention and interest to Reyes's lessons in Morse code as she did to reading to don Jubilo, taking him out for strolls in his wheelchair, ma.s.saging his limbs, and feeding him.

The third member of the group of students was Natalia, the night nurse, whom everyone affectionately called Nati. She attended to don Jubilo during the night s.h.i.+ft and just like Aurorita she had established a warm relations.h.i.+p with him. So much so that sometimes Lluvia was awakened in the middle of the night by the sound of laughter coming from her father's room, even though she slept with her door closed. Don Jubilo's jokes flew twenty-four hours a day, and Nati's fresh laugh celebrated them with unmatched enthusiasm. She was the best companion for his sleepless nights. She had a wonderful sense of humor and a truly unique capacity for tenderness. She was a short, round woman who had adopted don Jubilo just as if he were a small child: changing his diapers, giving him baths, and lulling him to sleep by softly singing his favorite boleros and maternally caressing his forehead.

Nati and Aurorita were important members of the trio of "don Jubilo's women" who now desperately missed his comforting words, his advice, and his stories. Don Jubilo's vocal cords, unbearably tense because of the medicines for his Parkinson's disease, had stiffened like steel bars that imprisoned his words inside him. So Lluvia, Nati, and Aurorita anxiously awaited the moment those words would be liberated from the prison that kept them knotted in his throat.

And so the telegraph machine appeared as the great savior, the great liberator, the great consolidator of hope and affection. And Lluvia, who for so long had resisted the use of technology, now could only bless it, since because of it her father would again be able to communicate with the world. But Lluvia's problem was that she didn't belong to the computer generation. Her children knew how to use the contraptions, but she didn't. She was fifty-one and a very active sportswoman. She didn't feel old at all. But when confronted with the world of computers, she discovered that she belonged to the old "on/off " generation, which only knew how to turn appliances on and off, and was light-years away from the computer skills of the younger generation. Her inability to handle the complicated machines created an unbridgeable generation gap. With difficulty, Lluvia had learned how to operate a VCR, and she did so in a very rudimentary fas.h.i.+on. She had no problem watching a movie on video, but she could not program the apparatus so it would automatically record a television program. And the operating instructions didn't help one bit. It seemed to her that in order to understand them, one needed a doctorate from Harvard. So whenever she bought a new electronic device, instead of unnecessarily complicating her life, she simply asked her children to show her how to operate it, and stored the instruction booklet in a drawer.

But now life had conspired to force her to try to understand how a computer functioned. And it was driving her crazy. She didn't understand anything. "Uploading" and "downloading" information seemed foolish to her. From where did one download it? And where was it uploaded to? Where was it stored? When one uploaded information through a portal, where did it go? Perla, her daughter, took on the task of explaining it all to her: that the Internet linked one to an international network of users and what "downloading" meant. That idea she did like. It was beautiful to feel that via the Internet one was connected to the whole world. The Internet, seen from Lluvia's inexperienced point of view, showed its most pleasant side, and appeared totally inoffensive. Of course, neither Perla nor Federico dared to tell their mother that, for example, the neo-n.a.z.i movement was using it as a means to organize criminal acts and that with a few clicks anyone could obtain sufficient information to construct an atomic bomb. There was no real need. There were always going to be people who used technology toward humanitarian ends and others who chose the opposite. But why talk about that. Their mother already had enough to worry about, just learning how to use the computer and Morse code at the same time.

And if Lluvia was encountering difficulties, well, just think of poor Aurorita and Nati. They had never used a computer in their lives, and when they first put their hands on the keyboard they felt as strange as the first man on the moon must have. But their love for don Jubilo was enough to overcome any obstacles, and Lluvia was surprised by the learning ability the two humble women possessed. Perla had a lot of fun teaching them, but she believed they really didn't need to try so hard. All they really needed to learn was how to operate the computer. She saw learning Morse code as unnecessary. What was the point, if the computer was going to translate Morse code anyway? But don Jubilo's women argued, with reason, that they were doing it in case the computer malfunctioned or was down for some reason. They didn't want to have to depend on technology.

Their training was concentrated. They decided to meet in the evening, after Aurorita finished her s.h.i.+ft. They waited for don Jubilo to eat dinner and fall asleep before they started cla.s.s. Don Jubilo had a hospital bed with rails on the sides that served two purposes: to avoid accidental falls and to aid turning the patient over. From one of the rails, Lluvia hung the baby alarm that she used when her grandson slept at her house, allowing them to listen to any movement her father might make, although he usually slept soundly for about two hours, giving them time for their telegraph cla.s.ses.

The lessons had the added benefit of a very pleasant musical background, because since his youth don Jubilo had grown accustomed to listening to the radio to fall asleep. His favorite station was 790 AM, which was devoted to nostalgic music. And so the best romantic boleros of all time would reach the adjoining room, which had been transformed into the Morse code cla.s.sroom, via the radio lying next to don Jubilo's bed. This arrangement would create in Lluvia the conditioned reflex of listening to music while beginning to transmit messages.

In order to become a telegraph operator, one needed above all a good memory, since words were transmitted letter by letter and had to be memorized as they were received until a word was formed. Then the word had to be written down while one continued to listen to the rest of the message. It was a very strange and difficult thing to do, because of the delayed time frame, to always stay just behind the incoming message. Converting a signal into words was very difficult and tiring for the ears. A transmitting operator was said to have "good writing" when his messages were characterized by distinct, p.r.o.nounced sounds, which made them easier to comprehend. But there were people who had terrible "writing" and used very loose sounds. This was the case for Lluvia, Aurorita, and Nati. The only one who had good writing was Reyes, but that was completely understandable; after all, he had been a telegraph operator for four decades. Despite not having transmitted for many years, he was able to get back up to speed in just a few hours. In contrast, don Jubilo's women were totally lost. They confused dots and dashes, mixed up sounds, or translated incorrectly. In short, they were a disaster, but they meant well.

In order to master the telegraph they were going to need many more hours, many more days, many more years, but in three weeks they had learned enough to understand don Jubilo's first words.

It was a memorable moment. Lluvia had asked Reyes and don Chucho to be present. She also invited Lolita, another close friend, who had spent her life working as a secretary in the Telegraph Office. Everyone arrived punctually. Already present in the house were Lluvia, her children Federico and Perla, and the nurses, Aurorita and Nati. Don Jubilo didn't suspect a thing until he learned that don Chucho was there. Then he guessed that something had to be going on for his friend to be there with him instead of at the hospital taking care of his wife. Of course, he never imagined the enormous surprise that awaited him. When his granddaughter Perla placed a portable computer and a telegraph transmitter on his legs, don Jubilo's face lit up. No one who witnessed that moment will ever forget the glorious smile that broke out on his face when his fingers felt the transmitter. There was no need to explain anything, he knew exactly why they had bought it and he didn't need any coaxing. Timidly, but firmly, he sent his first message. It was for his daughter Lluvia.

"Gracias, hijita. I love you very much," he tapped.

Lluvia's eyes filled with tears. To her father's surprise, she took the transmitter and responded in Morse code.

"Me too, chiquito," she answered.

Don Jubilo opened his eyes as wide as he could. His daughter knew Morse code! That was a surprise indeed. And it only got better when he found out that his other two women did too. Aurorita and Nati wanted their turn and each tapped out a message in Morse code that she loved him too. The unmistakable sound of the telegraph filled don Jubilo's room with joy. It was a very emotional moment. Lolita shed more tears than she had on that sad day in 1992 when Mexico's telegraph service died. She had been present at the ceremony at the Telegraph Office during which the telegraph was irrevocably retired as a means of communication. The telegraph operator who had the honor of transmitting the final message added, at his own initiative, "Adios, my dear Morse, adios."

Lolita had cried out of sadness on that occasion, but now she was crying with happiness. Tears had bid the telegraph farewell, now tears were welcoming it back. When Federico, who believed he knew his grandfather better than anyone else and who was aware that Jubilo didn't like to show his feelings in front of others, saw tears in the old man's eyes, he decided to interrupt the emotion of the moment with a short, but very precise, explanation of how the computer program worked. Federico and his grandfather had a great relations.h.i.+p. Lluvia's children were don Jubilo's favorite grandchildren, in contrast to his relations.h.i.+p with Raul's three children, which was more distant. Raul had moved abroad at a young age and only returned to Mexico with his children for vacations, and lately, not even then. The children were already married and had children of their own. Their lives were established outside the country, and they didn't visit their Mexican family as often as their relatives desired. Don Jubilo maintained contact with the other side of his family only through letters and telephone calls. On the other hand, he had been there when Lluvia's children were born, had helped them take their first steps, had played with them until they were all exhausted. He had taught them how to ride a bicycle, to spin tops and shoot marbles, and, since Lluvia's divorce, he had been like a second father to them: an understanding and loving father, who had guided them through adolescence, had taught them how to drive, had lent them his car when they needed it, and who never gave advice unless they asked for it, because he completely respected his grandchildren's individuality. Given this background, it wasn't hard to see why Perla and Federico adored their grandfather and were very upset by his illness.

Don Jubilo listened attentively to his grandson as he caressed the telegraph machine with trembling hands, as if it were the most precious object he'd ever possessed. When Federico finished his detailed explanation of the operation of the computer program, don Jubilo used the transmitter to speak.

"This opens up a world of possibilities for me. Thank you all very much."

"Thank you? What do you mean, compadre? We're planning to take advantage of your daughter's investment. We're going to put you to work as a letter writer in the Plaza de Santo Domingo."

Don Jubilo let out a laugh such as Lluvia hadn't heard in a very long time.

"Did you know that your papa, sometimes, whenever he was really low on money-"

"Which means, all the time!" interrupted don Jubilo via telegraph.

"No, seriously, he worked in the Plaza de Santo Domingo for a while, writing love letters, and you can't imagine how successful he was at it ..."

"Well, yes, but all jobs must end sometime. In those days I could see and speak and move around ..."

"You can't see, but you sure do know what you're holding. Just look how you're handling that machine."

Everyone laughed and marveled that don Jubilo, despite not having used a telegraph transmitter in many years, could communicate without the least difficulty.

"Que barbaro eres 'mano! You're a great man! Not even I could handle the telegraph that easily," interjected his friend Reyes.

"What do you mean, 'not even I'? Do you think you're a better telegraph operator than I am?"

"Forget about him, Jubian! See how conceited he's become? It's because he takes less pills than the rest of us."

"That's not true, Chucho, you take less than I do."

"Me!? What's the matter with you!? I take pills for my high blood pressure, my digestion, my heart, and my asthma!"

"There you go! I take six pills. Two more than you."

"Don't fight, boys. As always, I've got you all beat."

"Very funny! With the life my Lucha gave you, anybody else would have had every illness in the book!"

"Maybe so, chiquito, but I chose her and put up with her, didn't I? There's some merit in that. If the two of you had looked for a woman as complicated, you would now both be beating me with your illnesses...."

Lluvia, Perla, Federico, Aurorita, and Nati listened to their laughter, but didn't join in right away, because they couldn't yet follow the rhythm of telegraph communication. They had to wait for the message to appear in writing on the monitor before they could react. But despite the lag between their laughter and that of the others, they all enjoyed themselves equally. Lluvia was delighted to see her father "speaking," partic.i.p.ating, captivating the others with his anecdotes again.

Through the computer, Lluvia learned about a joke that her father had played on Reyes years before, which had nearly given him a heart attack. For many years, they worked alone in a receiving office for Petroleos Mexicanos. Don Jubilo covered the day s.h.i.+ft, and Reyes, the night s.h.i.+ft. The job wasn't difficult, but it was very lonely. Jubilo missed his friends at the Telegraph Office. In the new position there was no one to talk to, or to tell stories. So he and Reyes established their own way to have fun. They would play jokes on each other. Practical jokes, silly jokes, innocent jokes, all kinds: the idea was to enjoy their work as much as possible.

In their office, they received messages from various oil wells. It was a large enough s.p.a.ce to accommodate the enormous wireless receivers. But because the room was so big, it was very cold. The only people who occupied it were don Jubilo and Reyes. In the winter months, Reyes would use an electric heater, because the drop in temperature was unbearable for him. During the day, Jubilo had the advantage that the sun warmed the s.p.a.ce a little; he could even sit outside in the sun at times, unlike Reyes. One night in December, in the middle of the posada season, Reyes arrived at work and turned on his heater as usual. He curled up in a chair to get warm. Shortly, he heard a series of loud explosions. He jumped out of his chair with his hair standing on end. His first thought was that the telegraph receivers had blown up. But when he went to investigate, he discovered that Jubilo had tied a package of firecrackers to the heater, and they had been set off when their fuses were ignited by the glowing heater. The following day, Reyes paid Jubilo back...and good. He simply called Lucha on the telephone and asked if she knew where Jubilo was, since he hadn't come to work in a week.

An eruption of laughter suspended all conversation around don Jubilo's bed for a few moments. Everyone knew how violent dona Lucha could get when she got mad and they could all imagine how it had gone for don Jubilo. When the laughter subsided a little, Lolita told them about one of the jokes that had been played at the Telegraph Office.

"Do you remember when they nailed Chuchito's desk drawer shut and he just kept pulling and pulling on it?"

"What about the time we rubbed carbon paper all over don Pedro's telephone?"

Unexpectedly, the laughter faded as don Jubilo grew serious. Lolita signaled with her hand for everyone to be quiet, and Reyes quickly changed the subject.

"Si, que barbaros! I don't know how we dared, but the best was one day when Lolita had a huge pile of papers on her desk and I hid behind a nearby pillar. Then I took a fan and directed it at her without her seeing me. The papers flew off her desk and Lolita got up to chase them. She checked the window to make sure it was shut securely, and went back to her desk. Then I blew on her again ..."

"Si, hombre, don't go saying that you blew on her, because Lolita was always so proper."

Everyone laughed again except don Jubilo. Lluvia noticed this. Something had happened. Her father's good mood had vanished.

"Who was this don Pedro, Lolita?" Lluvia asked her father's friend as she walked her to the door.

"A guy that your father never liked, that is, really, none of us liked him. Well, darling, I must leave, because it's late."

Lolita was usually very talkative and she always stood at the door to chat for a while before she left. In fact, it was usually difficult to get her to stop talking, so the fact that she had left in such a hurry left Lluvia even more intrigued than she already was. If Lolita didn't want to talk about don Pedro, it meant something fishy had happened. Lluvia was dying to find out what it was, but it would have to wait for another day, because now, more than anything, she desperately needed to relax in a hot bath. It had been a day of intense emotions.

Water, her favorite element, exercised a magical power over Lluvia. It relaxed her instantly. Floating like a corpse, she was usually able to reach a deep calm in seconds, but this time she couldn't. She tried to concentrate on the look of happiness on her father's face when he had accepted the telegraph machine, but her mind kept drifting back to his serious, sad look after don Pedro's name was mentioned. A look she had never seen for herself until now: it had left her very unsettled. That afternoon, she had glimpsed that same look in a photograph that Lolita had brought as a gift for her father. It was an old photograph. From the group of telegraph workers, Lluvia could pick out Lolita, without the gla.s.ses she now wore, as well as don Chucho with hair, Reyes without gray hair or a belly, her father in perfect use of all his faculties, and her mother proudly displaying her pregnancy. It was a quiet photograph. Somber.

The group seemed to be celebrating a birthday or similar occasion, but from the sad expression on her father's face, she could tell he was not at all happy. Something was troubling him, causing him pain. Next to him stood her mother, beautiful, as always. Her father was holding her around the waist, but despite their physical closeness, Lluvia perceived an abyss between them. On the back of the photo was the date it had been taken, September 1946. Two years before she was born.

She figured her mother was about five or six months pregnant in the photograph. As she was about to use her fingers to count the months and calculate the due date, Lluvia realized that all this time she had been unconsciously tapping the fingers of her hand, as if she were sending telegraphic signals. She was thrilled to find that her hands practiced automatically. If she kept this up, in no time at all she would be as swift as her father at transmitting messages. She was distracted for an instant, concentrating on her hands and reflecting on the movement her busy fingers were making in the bathwater. She was particularly intrigued when she noticed that the more movements she made, the more waves were generated. She concluded that the number of times that something happened was very significant.

For example, one kiss was not the same as a thousand, nor one o.r.g.a.s.m the same as five. The ether vibrated in a different manner, depending on how often an event had been repeated. This led her to think that numbers not only represented sums of money, as was her mama's thinking, but had a much more profound significance, because they had a direct relations.h.i.+p to the cosmos. Whenever one used a number, one was subject to it. Numbers were like archetypes. She found the same occurred with words. Each one had a different resonance and therefore had a different echo in the ether. Then she came up with the idea that there must be an intimate relations.h.i.+p between numbers and words. They must have a connection similar to that between the b.u.t.tons on a remote control and a television signal, and Lluvia wanted to learn what it was. She began her search that very instant. As a first step, she used her fingers to "write" a word in Morse code. She used her fingertips for the dots, and the length of her fingers for the dashes. In this way she carried out a conversation with herself in dots and dashes. Next, she converted the dots and dashes into corresponding numbers in Mayan numerology, and tried to work out their meaning. Finally, she realized that she had chosen the names of her father and mother, and that the sum corresponded to the month of September 1946.

This discovery drew her thoughts back to the photograph. Using her fingers again, she counted the months remaining before her mother would give birth: she realized that it would have been far later than the date Raul was born. She had never been told of the existence of another sibling besides Raul. What had happened? She knew she couldn't ask her father that kind of question given his present state of health, so her only other alternative was to make a visit to Luz Maria Lascurain, to dona Lucha.

Chapter 6.

A PART FROM LOVE, there is nothing more important than confidence, and the opportunity to enjoy it is one of the benefits that married life offers. The confidence to bare one's soul, to expose one's body before the eyes of one's companion without the slightest trepidation, to give oneself freely, to open oneself, to abandon oneself shamelessly to another's arms without fear of being hurt. The confidence to be able to say to one's husband or wife, "Darling, you have a piece of spinach in your teeth," or, from another perspective, to be informed that one has snot hanging from one's nose.

Love and confidence go hand in hand. Only confidence allows loving energy to flow and insures intimacy between two human beings. The first sign that confidence no longer exists between two people is when one of the parties resists personal contact, when he or she is noticeably unwilling to receive caresses, kisses, hugs.

During the eight years that Lucha and Jubilo had been married, they had reveled in their confidence in each other. Neither had ever hurt the other, or had given any cause for suspicion. They loved and respected each other despite the huge differences between them. Without a doubt, the most revealing difference had to do with Lucha's dissatisfaction with the life that Jubilo offered her. What's more, Jubilo was convinced that this was the reason his wife had not been able to get pregnant again, something that, truthfully, didn't worry him terribly. Not because he didn't want to have more children, but because his salary as a telegraph operator was barely enough to provide for Lucha and Raul, his firstborn. For the time being he couldn't afford the luxury of feeding more children. Well, at least not in the way Lucha expected. She demanded a lifestyle that Jubilo was very far from being able to provide.

With the money he had won in the bet with don Pedro, after deducting the amount he had given Jesus and Lupita for their wedding, he had somehow come up with enough for a down payment on a house that was acceptable to his wife. It was small, but comfortable enough and located as close as possible to his in-laws' residence. It was just inside the colonia Santa Maria la Rivera, but on the edge bordering on Santo Tomas. The house wasn't as large as the Lascurains', but it was very pleasant. It had an elegant sala with balconies facing the street, three bedrooms with high ceilings and wooden beams that opened onto a tiled corridor at the end of which were a dining room and a bathroom. Next to the dining room was a large kitchen and a back patio where Raul could play all he liked.

For a while Lucha felt very happy. The opportunity to settle in the capital and leave behind the nomadic life they had lived until then was more than enough for her. Arranging their scant pieces of furniture was as much fun for her as playing house. She thoroughly enjoyed everything that had to do with setting up their new home. For the first time in their marriage, she felt free to hammer a nail into a wall or to put a vase of flowers anywhere she chose. The houses and hotels where they had previously lived were temporary places that had never belonged to them. And for Lucha it was important to own things before she could enjoy them.

Jubilo, on the other hand, was able to claim the whole world with just a look. He could enjoy the scent of the gardenias without caring whether they came from the neighbor's garden or a pot on his own patio. He knew how to take the pain and misfortune of others and make it his own. He knew how to share his friends' dreams and to celebrate as his own the triumphs of those around him. Perhaps this was the reason he was so successful as a telegraph operator. When he sent a message, he did it with his entire soul, as if acting on his own behalf. And maybe it was for this same reason that he longed for direct contact with the public. In the tiny pueblos where he served as a telegraph operator, he was able to follow the result of the missives he sent, because he saw immediate replies to many of the telegrams, but in the capital his work turned cold, it lost its human warmth. He never found out what happened after the telegrams were sent, and as a result he was less satisfied by his work, it lost some of its meaning. He no longer knew why he worked so hard. His work as a mediator, as someone who brought others together, turned into a job in a large office where he had to send and receive messages as fast as possible, and where speed was valued above efficiency. Jubilo felt somewhat let down, but on the other hand, he knew he was doing the right thing, what Lucha expected from him, what his child needed. He worked for them, not for himself, and that brought its own pleasures. The satisfaction of seeing Lucha set up in her own house and of being able to feed and clothe his child adequately made him very happy.

Lucha appreciated his efforts, but still the money she received from him wasn't as much as she expected, especially now that they had a child to care for. She wanted to give Raul the best education, buy him the best shoes, the best bicycle, the best ball. She felt hampered by the lack of money, so for several years she had been pressuring Jubilo to take on a double s.h.i.+ft, and she constantly criticized his lack of ambition. To Jubilo her criticism seemed unjust. It wasn't that he had no goals in life, they just weren't the same as the ones Lucha embraced. He wasn't in a hurry to get rich, that wasn't his greatest aspiration in life. Jesusa, his mother, had always told him that wealthy people were so poor that they only had money. He agreed with that completely. There were more important things in life than the simple acc.u.mulation of capital. To him, a rich man was a man who had the capacity to be happy, and that's what he tried to be.

When Raul was born, Jubilo was barely twenty-two, and Lucha was twenty. They were still very young. They had married so young that Jubilo hadn't had time to have fun with his friends. The first few months after his first child was born, Jubilo was completely off balance. He saw Raul as an intruder who came to take away Lucha's love and attention from him. But as soon as the child began to smile and interact with him, his feelings for his son changed completely. He began to see in Raul the younger brother he'd never had, and the child soon became his playmate. They developed such a close relations.h.i.+p that when Raul began to speak, his first word was papa, and when he got hurt, instead of crying and shouting for his mother, he called out for his father. A father who was too young, who seemed more like a big kid himself, and who after a long day of work at the Telegraph Office only wanted to relax, play a little with his son, and then meet his friends to play the guitar and sing.

But for Lucha, this indicated his total lack of interest in advancing in life. She felt that Jubilo, instead of wasting his time with "la guitarrita," should be taking English cla.s.ses, or French, or accounting, or looking for a better job, anything that would a.s.sure her and her son of a more promising future. Because he who only looks at the short term is not well rewarded, shall we say. Raul was growing up and she wanted to send him to a good private school, like Colegio Williams or somewhere similar. Jubilo didn't think that was necessary. When he had first arrived in the capital, his father had enrolled him in that very school. But he had been able to attend the school for only a short time because the family's savings quickly ran out, and they had no choice but to move him to a public school. In fact, Jubilo had been much happier at the public school than he been at Colegio Williams, and he didn't see any reason why his son wouldn't feel the same. Lucha, in contrast, had attended the Colegio Frances and she was appreciative of it. She thought receiving a good education was a basic necessity. She never said as much to Jubilo, but she thought the difference between the two of them, in terms of education, was very noticeable. Jubilo didn't speak English or French, he knew nothing about Europe, he didn't know how to get ahead in society; therefore, she thought, he was condemned to a mediocre life. Lucha, on the other hand, believed she was capable of finding a good job any time she pleased. Every now and then in their discussions, she would propose this possibility, but Jubilo always rejected it immediately. He didn't think it was at all proper for his wife to work. He had been raised to be the sole provider for his family.

So, in order to avoid further arguments about money, Jubilo gave in. He put aside his evenings of playing with Raul, the trio he was forming with his friends, the songs of Guty Cardenas, his dreams of singing on XEW, and took a second job as a radio operator for the Compania Mexicana de Aviacion, where he worked after his s.h.i.+ft at the Telegraph Office.

Thanks to the second job, in a short time they were able to buy a new refrigerator, a wringer was.h.i.+ng machine, and an electric water heater to replace the wood-burning one. Lucha was content and that made Jubilo happy. For a while, family life improved noticeably. Lucha had time to go for walks, to go to the beauty salon, and to go shopping, since the was.h.i.+ng machine, her electric skillet, and her blender saved her a great deal of time. She was very grateful to Jubilo for having bought her these things that were so necessary, and she never tired of praising the merits of the refrigerator and the other domestic appliances. Jubilo barely heard her, since he arrived home dead tired and had to struggle before falling fast asleep to listen to the detailed story of everything his wife had done that day.