Almost Never A Novel

6


Renata Melgarejo, a sizzling instance of decency on a grand scale, was the youngest daughter of Don Pascual Melgarejo and Doña Luisa Tirado. May this fact serve as a random point of entry that plunges us into the pure present, nor would it be too heavy-handed, at this stage, to recapitulate the outstanding episodes of Renata’s childhood, for since birth she had resided in a space that took up a quarter of a city block and included an orchard, a fountain, a waterwheel, an enormous courtyard, and a chicken coop, in addition to an imposing building with six spacious bedrooms, a well-appointed kitchen and dining room, and only one toilet, with a cesspit, as rank as could be, quite as common at those geographic coordinates as was—and still is—the presence of a leafy tree inside the compound that gave it the right to be called home. That said, it is important to place Renata at the heart of an all-too-rigid family hegemony. She was looked after in ways that served her ill but were perennially in the service of spiritual purification that may have been worth tolerating; and, as for her predicament: her parents did not let her go out without their permission: because she was at the optimum nubile age; in order to dissuade the mischief of men; because beautiful women meet deplorable fates if they are given even the tiniest shred of freedom; these three arguments as well as a few more futile ones wrap up Renata’s permanent circumstances. Her house was a lavish prison, ample and verdant, though with too few places to hide. It had also been thus for her sisters, who had had the good sense to marry outlanders: an affable escape to regions far from the family’s rigid core, and—of course! the last remaining maiden should have similar good sense; she, the most beautiful one, for a thousand reasons; the young relic who had more than ten local suitors, all rejected ipso for it would tie her down to that suffocating small-town pettiness. For Renata, even the thought of living near her parents—nothing could be more intolerable!—for nothing would ever please those two creatures with their rigid notions. Vigilance, demands, reproaches, even when she was being courted by the best of men. Hence to marry and leave for a faraway place, as her sisters had done, and to their tacit advantage. One lived in Morelia, Michoacán; another in La Terquedad, Coahuila, a nearby hamlet, but nonetheless; the eldest was taken straightaway to Comitán, Chiapas; and another (the ugliest and therefore the kindest) was well-established with her large family in Comonfort, Guanajuato. Renata would be carried off to Oaxaca, still a wait-and-see, but the idea was already taking root, more or less, for Demetrio represented the highest aspiration, also for her parents, who after seeing his imposing and formal appearance, hmm—why think ill of him? They would find out everything, from a to z, from Zulema—who, really, was this prospect who had asked their relic to dance. Easy, soon, and then … Already her parents had subjected her to a basic interrogation. That Demetrio worked in Oaxaca but was from Parras, Coahuila; son of; relative of; that he was an agronomist; that he was saving up to buy a house there; who knows what the hell Oaxaca was, though the initial bonanza couldn’t be all wrong. The prospect did not wear a hat, like those around here do. A distinction. A poor fit, though favorable, but …

It must be said that many outlanders visited Sacramento. Its fame was rooted in its unusual array of spectacular flowers, even though it was an isolated and somewhat tenuous spot. Where did those who came here come from? Remember Morelia, Comitán, Comonfort, La Terquedad. Remote outposts, and—how did the interested parties find what they found? A mystery … The amazing thing is that such goings-on had been going on ever since the town had been founded, hence Renata could not dismiss the possibility that prospects would hail from the United States and who knows what other foreign and remote countries. As it was, the exhibition of local beauties took place at church, on Sundays—what a nuisance and what a venue! because during the week was impossible … In her case, Renata’s obstinacy coalesced at the wedding dance and from that moment on she dreamed morning, noon, and night about receiving the first letter from the agronomist. The more time that passed the more Renata had to refine her calculations: a month and a half more; three weeks more; four days more, or anybody’s guess. Exhausting delight, which spread to other realms, and in the meantime the maiden carried out her domestic duties: mopping, sweeping, praying from time to time, what food might he like—ask him in a letter? All in good time, and in the meantime, these and other feeble proxies, though, when she thought about the missive, in addition to the expected flattery, some information. Hopefully Demetrio would let her know the date of his visit to Sacramento.