II
Afternoon
Josefina placed the recently ironed batch of clothes on the bed, which was large and with a canopy. Diego wasn't home, she'd heard him leave early in the morning with his father; nevertheless, there was still a lot of him in that place, in each one of the objects that were the frame of his everyday life. There was the big wooden desk with some papers and writing tools on, a couple of books as well; the logs for the chimney and the wooden clock on the wall, the painting of him as a baby in his mother's arms. It was hard to believe, even for herself, that she knew him so personally, that she was intrinsically attached to that part of his reality that no one knew, from the visits to her bedroom to the number of shirts that fitted, without getting wrinkled, on the right side of the closet.
That no one knew...
Eight, that's how many shirts, in their respective hangers.
The vests were to be folded, so she extended one of them neatly on the flat surface. This was a new one that had recently been brought from Spain; that other one had been his for a longer time. Cleaning the kitchen wasn't exactly her favorite chore, and neither it was polishing the tiles of the back patio. But this mundane thing of organizing his garments, she did it with love because she did it for him, just like the blueberry pie.
Mundane...
...worldly…
… sinful…
Not that. That word couldn't have anything to do with this, with them. It was incompatible with what she felt.
That drawer was for the ties. She placed them one by one, paying special attention for the edges to be well aligned. And once again, the recollection of the night it all started came to mind by itself:
Everything was dark except for a weak clarity that came from the kitchen. Cresencia sometimes left a lamp burning until the next day, so it didn't surprise her to see it.
What did surprise her, was the tall figure that suddenly appeared in her field of vision out of nowhere.
"Forgive me!" It was don Diego: "I didn't mean to spook you."
"I'm sorry, no, I just didn't expect to see anyone, what are you doing here? Ah, I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry, this is your house, you can be anywhere you want."
He chuckled and right then, she realized there was something else in him, something she hadn't quite spotted before in broad daylight. Yes, he was handsome as ever; and yes, her legs did feel weak at the sight of him as usual, but for the first time and for an instant, she forgot he was a caballero and none other than her employer. He seemed more relaxed, more… he seemed closer.
"No worries. I just came here to get something to eat."
The apple in his hand was a proof of it.
"Would you like me to prepare something?"
"Oh, no, please, it's too late. I wouldn't want to trouble you."
"Not at all, I could do it quickly."
"This will do, but thank you."
Her mind, the world, herself, everything turned blank for an instant. Some inner trace of reason reminded her what she had gone there for.
"I just wanted to get a candle" she went to the cabinets next to him: "The one I had... burnt entirely and I don't have any matches either… so… I will get some... and head out, where…? Here they are. Good night, don Diego."
She was already walking away when she heard her name:
"Josefina..."
"Sí?"
Blank again. Her thoughts, non existent; only his eyes staring at her in the half light. And she didn't register it back then, she would notice it later on when going over the details: he put what was left of the apple away, took the three or four strides that separated him from her, wrapped his arms around her and… stopped. He didn't move, just looked at her wide open eyes as if trying to comprehend his own actions in them.
And they wouldn't know who smiled first. They just did, as strangers that recognize each other at last, and that's when he kissed her and inside she was screaming and dying and exploding and loving him, falling in love already and at once, she loved him and there was no turning back.
Josefina smiled to herself at the memory.
Now, the handkerchiefs had to go into the second shelf of the closet.
(...)
"Jacinta, you will help Bernardo with the table, won't you?"
Cresencia was elbows deep into the lunch's preparation, steam and tasty scents filling in the kitchen's air.
"Oh, no, I'm a mess, look at me! And I have to finish this dessert."
"That's why they shouldn't have guests over in such short notice. Josefina?"
"Uh?"
"You help Bernardo with the table."
It was more an order than a request, so she combed her hair with her fingers using the bottom of a hanging pot as a mirror. Surely the help had to look at least presentable in front of the visitors.
And in front of him.
Bernardo showed up at the kitchen shortly after.
"..."
"Yes, I'll take these. All right."
He picked up the large platter with the meat and she, the salad and the other bowl, and off they went.
As customary, the guests were to be served first: an old lady and a young one, sitting by Diego's side; a gentleman, probably her father. Other than them, there was don Alejandro at the head of the table.
"... Magdalena left Los Angeles when she was only a baby, but as you know, she was raised in Mexico City."
"That is an excellent recommendation for Mexico City."
The mashed potatoes formed a small hill on the plate Josefina was serving.
"I hope you have come back to stay."
"It depends on this new project I have been working on" the caballero replied.
"Welcome home, then. To the three of you."
"Diego, you spoke of wanting to take Magdalena to a point over the pueblo."
"My father speaks my mind with the utmost precision."
"I would love to" Magdalena finally spoke, and as she served lettuce, carrot, avocado and tomato slices into a porcelain place, Josefina dared to glance in her direction for the first time: she was beautiful. "I feel as though I am home now."
Bernardo stayed to make sure the glasses were full at all times, Josefina came and went from the kitchen to the dining room, bringing things and removing empty dishes. And as she did so, she got this strange but incredibly realistic feeling that her chest and her stomach and everything else in there, was made of wood. Everything felt heavy and constricted and rocklike, if that makes sense, everything inside was in silence and numb.
As the two older gentlemen listened to a story the old lady was telling, Josefina caught traces of the conversation between the other two:
"My aunt will watch over us, of course. Whatever fun we might have had, we are not children now."
"I find that the older people get, the more watching they need."
More napkins were needed. She went to get some.
(...)
Knives, forks, spoons and teaspoons, she was placing them all inside the basket to get washed.
"That was an excellent lunch, Alejandro. I wholeheartedly appreciate your hospitality."
"Ah, there's no need to". As previewed, the others had left. Only don Francisco and don Alejandro stayed in the living room, smoking their cigars and drinking coffee. "Especially considering we might soon be related."
"They do make a nice couple, don't they?"
"It would be an honor to have such a lovely and talented daughter in law."
The metal of the cutlery was freezing cold in her hands, which in turn, felt weak and sweaty. She had to focus and to consider each one of her movements millimetrically, in order to carry out the chores as they should be.
She was now made of wood, how odd.
When everything was picked up and ready, she excused herself to Cresencia.
"Aren't you going to have lunch with us?"
Bernardo and Jacinta were already eating.
"Sí, just ten minutes."
"Go ahead. But hurry, I can't promise the food will stay hot."
"Or that there'll be any food left at all."
Josefina moved her wooden limbs down the corridor, one after the other, made it to the back part of the house, where the rooms of the servants were located. She didn't even see a couple of vaqueros who crossed her on the way, didn't realize it was over three in the afternoon and she was, in fact, hungry.
Once in her bedroom, that more than ever looked small and plain and ugly, she locked the door and went to sit on the bed. And she felt human again, made of flesh, bone and blood and an excruciating pain that hit her right at the point where body and soul converge, so she covered her mouth with both hands and choked back a cry as tears filled in her perception of the world around. Through the misty layer, she saw the sky map sphere sitting on the rustic dresser; also the two books and the quill with an ink flask that he had given her too, so she could write letters to her cousin in Sacramento.
And she saw him getting away from her, away for good, getting married with that Magdalena or with any other señorita, but whoever it was, it sure wouldn't be her.
Didn't you always know that?
Yes.
And didn't you tell yourself that the moments you have lived together, would last you a lifetime, regardless of everything else?
Yes.
And is it true? Is it enough?
I don't know. No. I don't know.
No more thoughts put into words, only into sobs.
(...)
Note 1: I took some quotes from episode "Sweet face of danger" from the first season. I kind of rearranged them there a bit.
Note 2: I reaaaally hope I didn't make Diego look bad here, because that wasn't my attention at all. Let's see what he has to say about it later on.
Thanks for reading this weirdness.