spoke to him with the voice of prayer. âAnd you? The choice was yours, Tomás. As for me, I had no choice. I had given up being a woman for you, just like you gave up your own respect and dignity when you married me. Surely now, at this moment, I feel so close to you; equally dead, but equally real.â How could she explain to him that she was so tired and wrinkled and torn by him, his God, and his word? She had tried to defy the rules by sleeping with another man, but that only left her worse off. And she could not leave him because she no longer owned herself. He owned her, her children owned her, and she needed them all to live. And she was tired of needing.
What to tell the police, what to say. Tomásâs unfaithfulness. That was as real as his body on the couch. âTomás was a trustful man, but flesh is flesh, men are menâ¦â
The acid fumes that fiercely clawed her insides crept timidly away from her and mingled with the roaming urinal scent of the hospital cell. Her children in time would forgive her. But God? He would never understand; He was a man, too. No. She would become a cricket wailing nightly for redemption. That suited her; she would be wailing for redemption. With the strength of defiant resignation, she stared zombie-like at the name printed on the wristband.
V
âShe moaned a lot in her sleep and sometimes sheâd say things out loud that sheâd never say awake. Since we slept in the same bed, she would sometimes hang onto me and call me by his name. It wasnât your fatherâs name though; it wasnât Tomás.
âUnder other circumstances, if you had asked me these questions, I would have belted you hard, as I often did to curious children who peeked through my window. I am old now,old and with the same name, and I tell you these things because soon you will be ready for marriage and the worms will cover me completely and itâll be too late to tell you anything. How uncomfortable, these worms; today I found two of them squirming around my toes. Yesterday I found one burrowing into my thigh. I kill them, but I am losing my strength.
âI am not an evil woman, Martha, but my body has suffered much. Look at this bodyâtwisted like tangled tree roots. Hand me that glass of water, Martita, I am dry. A little warm, but good. So you want to know about your parents? Damn fly. Flies drop dead all around this house. Just the other day, one fell into my teeth glass. For Godâs life, I couldnât bring myself to put on my teeth. Wretched things, these teeth.
âAs you know, I am your oldest aunt. Because I was the first, our motherânot knowing how many daughters she would haveâsaved the beauty that was supposed to be shared among us. Since I was the first-born daughter, she gave me bad teeth, and since your mother was the last, she gave her all the beauty she denied her other daughters, including me. I remember an old boyfriend of mine. Alejandro? No, Alfredo. Alfredo was his name. He used to tell me, âSmile, chica, smile, so I can see my reflection.â He was a good man, that Alfredo. You know, Martha, Alfredo and I were going to get married once. I knew him for years and years and he always called me Little Rabbit because of my teeth. But once he began to notice your motherâs developing breasts, and I caught her giving him that look, I told him to go far away. He was a good man, that Alfredo.
âIt is already getting dark. Please light Jesucristoâs candle for me. The days seem so short now. You will say a rosary with me before you go, wonât you? What did you say? What was your father doing all this time? Tempting the dreams of older women, that Tomás. I had my eye out for him long before his voice even changed. But your mother gave him the look, and I had no right to tell him to go away. From the very beginning, he gave himself completely to her. And that was a mistake. Because her heart was just a
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