Chapter IX

Twilight

Sometimes you open your eyes in the morning and you're in a sort of blissful, blank state, just existing for a while. You become aware of your own body, of the fragment of the world that fits into your field of vision… maybe there's still the remnants of a dream lingering in the back of your head.

And then you remember.

Jimena had just left, Josefina had heard her shifting around, then walking out the door. She got up from the cot they had installed in the living room and went to check on Horacio, who was still sleeping in his crib, next to his mother's bed. It was strange to think how something so mundane as changing into her everyday clothes had become an act of bravery: the skirt hardly fit; she'd have to move the button yet another centimeter.

Then, she got on with the kitchen routine: Horacio's breakfast and her own, lunch for the workers of a housing construction around the corner, who would come pick it up at noon. As she sliced and diced the red bell peppers, the blueberries she didn't want to look at finally caught her eye; she could make some pie with them, just like the one he likes. That happened all the time, didn't it? Him, dropping by her mind uninvited... no, that's not true: he wouldn't just drop by because he simply lived there, even when she was busy or thinking about something else, she was still thinking of him. He had never left.

"Another spoonful. Just one more, Horacio, come on, you loved it yesterday."

It looked like the boy suddenly remembered, because he smiled and then opened up wide for the porridge.

That day, there was only a simple mending of a jacket's lapel to be done. Sewing wasn't too bad: it provided some extra cash and it was so much quieter than cooking. The needle would disappear behind the fabric, only to reappear and so on, towards the infinite, stitch after stitch and one day after the other, this was life after all; this, and taking refuge in things that were gone or didn't exist.

(...)

The people in town had been nothing short of kind, such as that lady waving hello at her from the yellow house's porch (she was sitting there at all times, morning, afternoon or evening) or the old gentleman who owned the shoe repairing stand that was at the entrance of the market. He gave her a nod as she passed by and smiled at him. Would they be so cordial if they knew? Had anyone already noticed? It wouldn't take long.

She went straight to the vegetables spot and picked six large carrots and twelve potatoes, as Horacio babbled and played with her hair. They needed some spices too, maybe some coriander, turmeric and-

Everything around got entirely out a focus, just blurry shadows of what they'd been a second before. It had only taken a glance and her body was already shuddering so badly, she had to use all of her willpower to keep Horacio firmly held in her arm, against her hip, and the bag of groceries in the other hand. For a moment she even attempted to convince herself that it wasn't true, that she must have been seeing things.

She wasn't. On the other side of the market, down the street, there he was on his hazelnut horse, heading to the square, Bernardo by his side.

With the certainty that at any moment everything would turn dark and she would fall flat on the ground, she turned around like a soldier would in a parade, and retraced the way back home.

(...)

He was close. Blocks away. Walking down the same streets as she did these days. Seeing the same buildings. Breathing the same air. She could imagine him talking to the innkeeper, gesturing with his hands as he spoke, as he always did. She could almost hear his voice.

"Bah… babah!" Horacio burbled.

"Let me see" his mother wiped the mashed potatoes that dripped from his chin: "Do you want some more? No? So maybe you will let me eat now. Will you be a good boy?"

"I saw him today."

"Hm? Who?"

"..."

"You saw... him? Diego? Your Diego?"

"Yes."

"Are you joking?! What did he tell you?"

"He didn't see me."

"And what are you waiting for, Josefina?"

She placed the fork down, next to the plate: "I don't know."

"He's obviously here looking for you, are you aware of that?"

"We don't know that."

"We don't?!"

"Maybe he's here on business."

Jimena put the cloth away and gaped at her cousin as if she was looking at a five legged goat:

"You're unbelievable. All this time-"

"No, you don-"

"No, look, all this time you have been postponing and postponing writing him to tell him what's going on, and now he just knocks on the door, pretty much, and you won't tell him either, so tell me something: if you had him in front of you right now, wouldn't you? Wouldn't you tell him?"

"It's not that simple, Jimena."

"It is!"

"It's not! I don't think I would be able to withstand another goodbye."

"And what will you do if you can't withstand it, eh? Drop dead? Are you going to spontaneously combust and die?"

"Sure, why not."

"You're so stubborn! Maybe he won't marry you, I'll give you that. But if he's such a wonderful man, as you've described him, at least he would send you, I don't know, fifty pesos a month, it's his responsibility!"

"I don't want fifty pesos a month, I want him!"

"I know! But you have no say in that, unfortunately. Besides, he has the right to know, don't you think?"

"Yes, I know..." both elbows on the table, she buried her face in her hands: "I know."

Jimena took a deep breath and tried the tomatoes.

"I'm sure he's here for you, anyway."

"I don't want to get my hopes high."

"Just think about it, will you?"

"I don't know."

Fifty pesos a month. That sounded so pitiful, so impersonal, as if everything had been some kind of a transaction.

"More?" Jimena asked Horacio: "Fine, drink some water first."

(...)

She could feel it, too. She didn't have to touch it to feel it alive and well; nevertheless, it was nice to place both hands on the lower part of her stomach and sense it growing a little bit more every day, taking what it needed from her own flesh and bones to exist.

… he has the right to know, don't you think?

Of course he does. There's nothing I would want more than sharing this with him.

Then, you know what to do.

What if he…?

Don't.

But what if he..?

Sleep usually provided comfort. Not this time.

(...)

It was the middle of the afternoon when Diego arrived in Sacramento for the first time. He went down the main street, along the market and to the main square, where he'd been informed the only inn was located.

Bernardo took care of the horses as he checked in. There was no time to waste:

"Room number three?"

"That's right, señor."

"Gracias. By the way, I'm looking for the Iglesias family. Do you know them?"

"Oh, señor, I only moved into town a couple months ago, I couldn't really tell. But Inés, one of the waitresses here, she knows everybody. She just went out so if you wait a few minutes, I'm sure she could answer your questions."

He waited, though way more than some minutes. And he didn't mind: it gave him time to order something to eat and think.

The night had already started to fall when the woman showed up at last and pointed him in the direction of a little white house on the outskirts of the city.

"Good evening, please forgive me if I'm ill timed."

"No worries, may I help you?"

"I would hope so. I'm looking for Jimena Iglesias."

"Oh, no, dear, I'm Juliana Iglesias. We're not related, though."

"I'm so sorry. Do you happen to know where I could find her?"

"Hmm… I know she works at the garrison."

"She does?"

"Yes, she's the cook, but she mustn't be there now, so you'll have to wait until tomorrow. Is she the one you're looking for?"

"Why do you ask?"

"She did receive a cousin recently. Ah… Joselia… Josiana…"

"Josefina."

"That's right! I have seen her a couple times."

"Thank you. You don't know how much I appreciate it."

Diego said goodbye and went back into the lodge.

(...)

The visit to the military post had been successful. After some negotiation and some pesos, he'd gotten the lancer to give him the home address, on one condition: he should talk to Jimena first, who would be at the garrison at noon. If she finds out I gave out her address to a stranger without permission, she'll have my head, he'd said. Not a problem. He would talk to the cousin too, he would talk to the whole town if necessary.

When the waitress served him the meal, he took a look at his pocket watch: eleven forty five. He'd have an early lunch, talk to Jimena and then…

He was one to have everything planned out at all times. That had always worked out for him. But it is true that every rule has an exception and now it was the time: did he even have a plan?

"Excuse me."

The trip of the first spoonful of soup was interrupted mid air:

"Yes?"

"Are you don Diego de la Vega?"

"At your service. May I help you?"

"I'm Josefina's cousin, Jimena."

She was glad to see the expression in his eyes shift.

"Please, take a seat."

"Gracias. I'm sorry to bother you."

"Not at all. I've been looking for her."

Jimena rested her hands on the table and stared at them for some moments, aligned her fingers with the flower designs of the table cloth.

"There's something you should know. And I think it's best to just… be blunt."

"Please."

It took her some time to utter the words. But it had to be done:

"Josefina's pregnant."

"..."

"I don't know what you're going to do with this information, but someone had to let you know."

He didn't move for a while, only his pupils denoted the commotion inside of him.

Then, Jimena saw him search in his jacket's pocket, pull out some money and drop it on the table…

"Thank you."

...stand up and rush out the door.

"Hm." She took a bite of the carrot cake: "Now I understand, Josefina. Now I understand."

(...)

Note: I have built this story mostly by following loose ideas of scenes that popped up in my mind. I had this one with Jimena telling him, so I dropped it there. Let's attribute it to Jimena being quite opinionated and straightforward. Should she have done it? Well, it's done XD Thanks for reading!