Chapter VIII

Morning

It was the first time he stepped into her room in broad daylight. This is what Diego thought, making special emphasis in the word her: it was still her room, she was present everywhere and so were the memories.

He looked around and found some of her belongings: a fan with a faded flower design, some clothes he would have recognized anywhere, the rosary and saint stamps that hadn't been moved from the wooden shelf. The books he'd given her, however, the writing tools and the map of the sky were all gone and that was the first good news of the day: perhaps there was still hope.

Under the bed, there was nothing: the valise had disappeared as well. He'd seen it there once, when he had to chase and kill a cockroach that had decided to visit them. The shadow of a sad smile crossed his face at the remembrance of her, hiding under the covers as he hunted for the monster that was terrorizing her. She wasn't scared of frogs, mice or even spiders, but roaches... that was another story.

Less than an hour later, he was dismounting at the town's plaza.

Asking around in the usual places (the church, the tavern, the pharmacy) could have seemed the most logical thing to do at first sight. But something told him that he had to start elsewhere.

"Buenos días, Manuel."

"Buenos días, don Diego. Are you needing to travel with us soon?"

"No, I'm looking for someone." Once again, he made sure there was no one else nearby: "Do you know if, by any chance, a girl left the city last night?"

The man gestured as if trying to recall:

"A girl?"

"Yes, about 20 or 22 years old. Brown hair, brown eyes." Diego searched in his pocket and deposited two coins in the man's hand: "Does this refresh your memory?"

"A girl! Yes, I'm starting to remember now."

Two more coins.

"So?"

"She's a maid at an hacienda, if I'm not wrong."

"Precisely."

"She took a stagecoach at ten o'clock last night."

"Where to?"

"I'm not sure, it was quite late and dark…" Three more coins. "Hmm… a bell might be starting to ring..." And then five: "She went up north. To San Miguel."

"Are you certain?"

"Positive."

"Thank you for your help."

"My pleasure!" Manuel replied, counting his recently and honestly acquired loot.

Diego hadn't yet taken ten steps away when he saw his father.

"I didn't know you were coming into town."

"Father. I had some errands to run."

"Such as finding out where she went?"

Don Alejandro wasn't someone to beat around the bush.

"Such as, yes."

"Hm. Before you do anything, may we have a glass of wine and talk? Another hour or two will not make any difference."

The tavern was always crowded during lunch time, so they headed to this area on the side where three or four tables had been arranged for those cases.

None of them said a word until their cups were filled.

"My son, I would not like to see you lose your head like this for a woman. I thought, at your age, these matters should be more than clear: when you're interested in a señorita, you court her as is proper, talk to her family, ask her hand in marriage, not this fiasco. This is not what I wanted for you, it's not what you should want for yourself, or for her."

Diego didn't reply. Partly, because his father wasn't entirely wrong: she didn't deserve any of this.

"Don't you think that, if she left, it's because she wants to put an end to it? Because she wants to be away from you? You should respect that."

"Father, I know you think I was playing with her. Don't you? But one thing I can assure you:" Did he have any other argument besides this one? "I'm in love with her."

Don Alejandro looked away as if annoyed, took a sip from his glass. It was hard to say if he was more disappointed or angry.

A while passed until he spoke again:

"I fell in love with a maid once."

"Why does this have to revolve around the fact that she's a maid?"

"Would you just listen?"

"Forgive me."

"Like I was saying, I thought I was in love with her. I was 17, she was 19. I would bring her flowers, recite poetry to her; I was even brave enough to kiss her once. I was certain we would get married, so I was preparing this elaborate speech in order to convince my father of allowing our union. Until I saw her kissing one of the hacienda workers."

"Josefina would never do that."

"I'm not saying she would. I'm saying people get over this sort of issue, as I did: with time. I met your mother later on and things turned out the way they should."

"Well, I am not 17 years old. I'm an adult."

"Then act like one."

"I am. I'm trying to. By facing the truth instead of running from it."

Don Alejandro sighed deeply:

"Give it some time, Diego, it's all I ask you for. You are busy as it is with… all of your projects. Focus on that and I assure you that soon, you will meet someone else."

Diego's eyes went to fix on the red liquid in the transparent glass, though he wasn't really looking at it; there were these two or three very thin lines drawn across his forehead.

Don Alejandro ordered something to eat.

(...)

When Josefina was conscious of her existence once again, it took her a few seconds to mentally adjust to the surroundings. Her body felt well rested, but her head still felt as if life had been put on pause. As if she was hidden in the last corner of the world and yet, there were things she couldn't escape from.

"Good morning!" Jimena greeted her once she came out of the room; she was sewing in a corner. Nearby, Horacio had one block of wood in each hand and was swinging them around. It all gave her a feeling of coziness.

"Good morning. What time is it?"

"Ten. You slept through the night."

"Ten in the morning?! I'm sorry!"

"Sorry about what? Don't be silly and get yourself some breakfast."

Bread, cheese and beans; she served them on a plate and came to sit closer.

"Are you going to work?"

"At noon. I have the afternoon shift today."

"Oh, all right."

Jimena gave a few more stitches to the dark blue garment that lied on her lap.

"Are you going to tell me, then?"

Oddly enough, Josefina was itching to. Not that it was easy, but maybe it was just the necessity of letting it all out:

"I never told you about it in my letters. It's so strange to say it out loud, I've never told anyone. Well, I… fell in love."

"Of course you did."

"With the patron."

"Oh..."

"The son, that is." Jimena put the needlework aside: "We were seeing each other. We did for a while until his father found out. Everyone found out. So I had to go. And that's it. It sounds like a pretty short story now."

Horacio tossed one of the blocks against the wall and laughed at his own achievement.

"Does he deserve it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Does he deserve you loving him? Or is he a jerk? Be honest."

"He's not a jerk! He's…" How could she describe him? "He's everything. He's amazing. He's perfect."

"Nobody's perfect."

"He's perfect for me, with his imperfections, whatever they may be. And I'm not including his money in that. In fact sometimes I wish he didn't have any, so things would be easier."

"I'm sorry… I wish I could say something to make you feel better, but I know that doesn't exist right now. I can tell you this, though: you're welcome to stay here. You're staying, aren't you?"

"I was hoping to."

"You can look after Horacio while I'm working so I don't have to pay the neighbor for babysitting. And then we'll find you some work. Would you like that?"

"Of course I would. I'll do the chores too, don't worry about that."

"I did need some free time, that's for sure. I'll just finish this hem and that will be it."

Josefina hadn't touched her food. She had to, she couldn't just leave it on the plate; however, there was this other thing gnawing at her insides.

"There's something else."

"What? What is it? Are you all ri-"

She'd started sobbing, her face buried in both hands.

"What is it?" Jimena came to sit by her side: "You can tell me, it's all right."

"I'm scared..."

"Of what? I know you still love him and I know how much that hurts, but you'll be fine, I promise."

Her chest was burning with tears, even if she managed to appease it enough to utter the words she didn't want to:

"… I'm nine days late."

Jimena stared at her for a few moments, as if attempting to grasp the idea:

"Jesus… Christ, Josefina! Are you sure?"

"Yes… and the thing is that I'm very punctual all the time, always twenty eight or twenty nine days at most, and now… I don't know… I don't know what I'm going to do…"

Jimena held her and let her break down and cry on her shoulder for some time. Definitely, when it rains, it pours.

"All right, look: I have heard that sometimes it gets delayed when you're afflicted by something, or worried or under a lot of pressure, just as you have been these days".

"It does?"

"Yes, I swear. Nine days is not too much. You must be just overwhelmed by everything that has happened lately, it can't just be a coincidence."

Josefina straightened up: "Sí… you're probably right. And I'm making a big fuss out of it."

"See? Horacio! Drop that! Drop it. Drop it!" The child obeyed at last: "My God, Josefina, I don't mean to be a nagging old lady, but didn't you think this could happen? Weren't you careful somehow?"

"He said there are some days of the month, of… my month, when it's less likely to happen. And other days when it's more likely. So we tried to stick to that. And it worked for months, it did."

"Yes, I've heard that too. Anyway, let's keep calm. It's probably nothing and if that's the case, terrific! But if it is something…"

"..."

"... you will make it through. See, I've made it through with Horacio, just him and me."

"But you're a widow. I would be a..."

"What's the difference? We can say that you're a widow too, it's none of people's business. And we'll help each other and… I don't know if you have thought about this, but if you really are…: you will tell him, won't you?"

"I guess…" Her nose and eyes were all red, like they'd been waiting for this moment for days to finally burst. She'd have to make an effort to eat her food.

About an hour later, Jimena headed off to work, so she washed her face, as if that could help, and did the dishes. Then, she sat on the old armchair with Horacio on her lap:

"We're going to be good friends, aren't we? Or at least acquaintances?"

The kid made some unintelligible sounds and grabbed one of her ears:

"Ow, all right. Don't."

She would have to get to do some work around the house, or else, the tangle of her own thoughts would drive her insane.

(...)

Note: I don't think I have any specific notes for this chapter XD What do you think of it? Have I lost my mind? Thanks for reading!