Almost Never A Novel

47


Suitcases in the bed of the blue pickup: only Renata’s and Demetrio’s, because the relatives would return to Sacramento as soon as they said good-bye to the green-eyed gal at the hotel in Piedras Negras. Clearly each truck would carry its own extra can of gasoline (as usual), and the simple task of filling eight such cylinders took time. More than two hours, to be precise. Let’s also add that there was a skinny man whose hair stood on end by the name of Manuel Soto Pizarro, who sold fuel informally and had a tank on the outskirts of Sacramento, one that was almost always full of the precious liquid because he almost always had very few sales, but when this ensemble journey came about: oh, my: what a windfall, for he got sold out. And this, then, is what followed: the caravan moving with proper slowness toward the border. A caravan led by Demetrio’s truck: impetuous modernity. A caravan seen off by a crowd of people of all ages, a true swarm staged in the main plaza, among which Doña Zulema and Doña Telma were seen, showing up momentarily and bidding an effusive good-bye. Squashed bodies: theirs, who at the last minute declined to make the trip … So futile, as well as an unforgettable hassle, for sure. Was that whole melodramatic course of events even worth it—no! too much lavish groaning. Better to think of Demetrio being happy with that rural lass, who was, among other things, skilled at culinary concoctions, and on to other issues, an omission that was also fortunate, no (grim, grown-up) guesswork there. Immediately crass would be the seven hours there and seven hours back, at the very least. The worst would be traveling (back) at night, onerous and, of course, sheer exhaustion would evoke bad thoughts. Hmm, just to think about those considerate relatives making the sacrifice for no reason—well! What Doña Telma did instead was say good-bye to Doña Zulema with a heartfelt hug. Both knew they might never see each other again. Returning alone to Parras: the mother, by train, yes, now for the imminent tedium, also the uncertainty of her intuition that whatever would befall her would not be so horrible. The good part is that Doña Telma would soon see if everything there was in order; she would have to pray the whole way for it to be so. In fact, when she left Sacramento she knew that a new chapter in her life had begun. Something reductive and red. The seed of a precursory idea, yet to see how it would germinate …