Chapter 7 #3
Perla had not thought much of love before meeting Norberto.
Her parents’ marriage is cordial, but it was an arranged match, not a union born of passion.
Marriage to Norberto, however, would be a true delight.
Not only a merger of fortunes, but the perfect symmetry of two lovely young people who fancy each other.
There are many inconsequential details that betray his affection: the way she has caught him staring at her across the table, the flattering words he has bestowed upon her when they meet, his soft kiss upon her hand.
The previous week he came to their aunt’s house with a volume of poems under his arm and recited the most beautiful sonnets with the excuse, of course, of lending them his book of Amado Nervo.
He has yet to pass his arm around her waist or steal a kiss from her lips, which is to be expected, since this is a man from a good family and not a brute from the streets who might ply a silly servant with a few compliments and invite her on her day off to go to the fair.
Yet her heart beats, intensely painful, at the thought of Norberto and of a kiss on the lips. She will blush at such audacity, of course, as a lady must, then, shy as a dove, look into his beautiful eyes.
A long, tender kiss that grows bolder. A kiss like a flash of lightning streaking across the sky, a kiss that sears the ground. Perhaps he might ask for more: a caress, an embrace, a complete surrender.
Imagining the scene, Perla shivers in bed, drawing the sheets close around her body, and whispers his name.
—
Norberto organizes a dance at his house and invites the Inclán sisters to attend. It is not the grand ball that Perla would have liked to be invited to, back when Carnaval was a time for fantastic costumes and merriment, but it is a festive occasion nevertheless.
The highlight of the evening comes when Norberto asks her to dance, smiling at her with an air of gallantry that makes her heart soar and her pulse quicken.
All the ladies in attendance look at her enviously as he twirls her around the floor.
They dance two dances, until she is breathless with delight.
When the music subsides he kindly says he will now ask Encarnación to dance.
It is thoughtful of him not to forget her sister.
But Encarnación has gone missing. Perla looks for her to no avail, until she reappears and plops herself down on a chair, cheeks flushed, fanning herself. It is a dreadfully warm night, after all.
“Where have you been? Norberto wishes to dance with you.”
“I would prefer to look at the dancers,” Encarnación says.
If Perla could take her sister by the arms and pull her up from the chair, she would.
But Norberto is at their side, and he gently offers to keep the girl company while she rests her feet.
Perla is irritated by her sister’s refusal and frowns, but then her aunt approaches and pulls her aside, congratulating her in a whisper.
“I wager he’ll propose by next week,” Crésida says.
“You think so?” Perla replies, and her heart is bursting with so much joy she fears she will faint.
“No doubt about it.”
—
There is no evil omen that warns Perla about what is to come, no black butterfly that flies into the room. One afternoon, like any other afternoon, Norberto shows up at the house and asks to speak to their aunt. He comes alone, stays for half an hour, and departs with a swift ease.
Crésida summons the sisters to the living room the next day. Perla begins to think of wedding dresses, veils, and gifts.
Marriage is a complicated matter. First, the bride’s family must be notified of the groom’s intentions.
Then a date will be decided upon for the formal marriage proposal.
The groom will venture to the bride’s house, ask for her hand in marriage, and the family will grant it.
For the lower classes, a pedida de mano might be dispensed with, or it might be a simple affair.
But for the Incláns the pedida de mano entails fine food and drink, an authentic feast.
Then will come the arduous gathering of the trousseau.
Shoes, dresses, and gloves. In this time, with the Revolution exhausting the countryside, it will be impossible to have the bulk of the chemises and nightgowns imported from France, and solutions and alternatives must be found to provide the bride with an adequate wardrobe.
Preparations for the wedding will no doubt be demanding.
The menu must be carefully determined—would huachinango a la veracruzana be acceptable or must another fish be prepared?
—the church booked, the flowers bought. The wedding dress is of paramount importance and the veil is an almost sacrosanct item.
The best seamstresses shall be hired, and quickly, for all this work will take many months to finish.
Perla will be exhausted when it is all over.
But it will be worth it. Marriage exalts a woman.
Even the lowliest of factory girls gains in status and is perceived as wiser, more confident, more powerful.
Perla will have the freedom to run her household, to dress herself in pleasing garments and tasteful jewelry, and to lead a charity of good standing.
Younger women will come to her for counsel, and men will listen to her opinions.
Her role so far has involved a great deal of silence. Not that she has been utterly mute in the presence of Norberto, but a young, unmarried lady must say little, must not sink into the pits of coquetry, and yet remain beautifully enticing, like a freshly cut flower.
As their aunt looks at the Inclán sisters, Perla can practically hear the wedding march in her head.
“Norberto sent a telegram to your father and then came to speak to me. He has decided to ask for Encarnación’s hand in marriage.”
The wedding march concludes abruptly. Perla stares at her aunt in confusion. “Aunt Crésida, you are mistaken,” she says, and almost laughs at her aunt’s slip of the tongue. “Norberto will marry me.”
Crésida shakes her head. “There is no mistake. Your father has agreed to the match. You girls must head back to Puerco Ahogado on the Friday train, to begin the preparations for the pedida de mano.”
“But she can’t! She’s the younger girl! It’s not allowed!”
In her tumult she’s forgotten her manners and her voice is so loud that it startles her aunt. It is as if a cannon has been fired. For a minute Crésida does not know what to say, and tugs at her shawl.
“Your father has telegrammed and made his wishes clear.”
“But Norberto wishes to marry me. He is ever so attentive to me.”
Crésida looks at her niece with a grievous pity and speaks softly. “My dear girl, who can understand the hearts of men?”
Perla stands up and rushes out of the room with tears in her eyes. Encarnación comes running after her, muttering words that Perla does not understand. Perla throws herself on her bed and weeps. Gently, her sister places a hand on her shoulder.
“Perla, please don’t cry. I’m sorry. I know you liked him.”
“You idiot! I love him and now he’ll marry you!”
“Of course not. I don’t care for him at all.”
“You are a liar. You have probably been batting your eyelashes at him behind my back.”