Chapter 8 #3
“A cup of gordolobo tea would be better for that,” she said, but then he looked at her with his sad eyes, that old scarecrow of a man, and she nodded. “You’re not supposed to drink, the doctor said so.”
“What does the doctor know?”
“If not the doctor, think about my aunt. She’ll have you out of the house if you continue to take sips from her sherry.”
“She’ll have me out of the house anyway. I owe her two months of rent and I have no chance of catching up. She’ll put me out in the street in a few weeks, with my books piled around me.”
“She wouldn’t.”
“She would,” he said, but without resentment.
“I suppose so,” Inés said. “She’s heartless.”
“You shouldn’t judge her too harshly. The world kicks you around enough, you develop a callus. I ought to know.”
He looked so exhausted when he spoke, so old, that she wouldn’t have been able to deny him even if she’d wanted to. “A thimble, you hear me? If too much disappears from the bottle, I’ll be in trouble. And take Diógenes with you. My aunt will complain if he’s running around the sitting room again.”
“I will.”
She poured a thimble, as promised, and watched as Nepomuceno patted the dog’s head and fed it a canapé.
Then she grabbed the second tray and headed back to the sitting room.
When she walked in, Lulú had arrived and was making herself comfortable.
Inés smiled, then paused and looked at Lulú with wide eyes.
“Why, Lulú, you seem tired today. Is your blood pressure low? I can bring you a lemonade if it might help you feel better. Or would you like coffee?”
“Tired?” Lulú replied in confusion.
“I’ll be right back. Coffee, yes? One quick cup.”
Lulú nodded. A couple of minutes later Inés shoved a cup of coffee into her hands. Soon all seven members of the committee had seated themselves and were looking admiringly at Ulises.
“Why, I think the last man who came to one of our meetings was Father Anselmo,” said Sarita Novo, touching her hair, as if to make sure she was still well coiffed, smiling at Ulises.
“I hope I’m not intruding, dear ladies. I wished to learn more about the festivities of your town and the important work that you do,” he said in a tone that approximated that of a respectful altar boy.
Inés handed Sarita her coffee and went around the room asking the other ladies if they’d like lemonade, or tea, or something else. Ulises had seated himself next to Lulú and was speaking to her when Inés walked by.
“All I can say is that the best doctors are in Mexico City. No offense, but for serious matters I wouldn’t go to Xalapa,” he told Lulú, with as much confidence as if he were a doctor himself.
It went like that for the next couple of hours.
There was discussion about the festival, which consisted mostly of the women talking about the merits or drawbacks of hiring the same band from Córdoba to play in the town square or picking a trio that was cheaper.
But for the most part, what Ulises did during the whole meeting, aside from asking a few questions, was keep an attentive eye on Lulú, speaking with her.
Lulú’s favorite topic was her health, and Ulises nodded respectfully and made subtle comments about the importance of seeking proper medical care when an illness struck, of the benefits of the facilities in Mexico City.
When the meeting was about to disperse, Lulú stood up and walked quickly out of the sitting room. When she returned, she seemed terrified. Inés supposed the laxative was beginning to take effect.
“You look flushed,” Inés said as the ladies marched out of the room. “Is it too warm in here?”
Lulú clutched her purse with shaky hands and took out a handkerchief, which she dabbed against her brow and her upper lip. “I don’t think I feel right,” Lulú said, in a voice that was almost a squeak.
Ulises immediately took her by the arm, gently directing her to a chair.
“It’s no wonder you’re unwell, any changes in the weather would affect someone with a delicate constitution.
It is terribly hot today! Inés, why don’t you bring the lady another cup of coffee before she departs?
Everyone knows when it’s warm you must drink hot beverages.
Nomads do it all the time in the desert. ”
“Right away,” Inés said.
She returned quickly with the coffee, which had plenty of laxative mixed in. Lulú took a few sips and looked like she was going to put it down, but Ulises tipped the cup against her lips and shook his head.
“Now, now. Drink it all, so that you may be refreshed. Where is the lady’s hat?”
“I have it,” Inés said.
Ulises gave Lulú his arm and Inés followed them back to the front door, carrying the hat. Lulú thanked Inés for everything, shook Ulises’s hand, and walked away, dabbing her handkerchief against her face. They watched the woman stumble past the iron gates of the house and went back inside.
—
Three days later Inés was again at the bakery when Marisol gave her the news. She stuffed the bolillos into a paper bag at a leisurely pace, since Inés was the lone customer and the baker and his assistant were arguing in the back of the store.
“Lulú and Cándido are off to Mexico City,” Marisol informed her.
“Are they?”
“She’s feeling sick and wanted to see a specialist of some sort. I can’t believe the amount of money that woman spends on remedies. Anyway, they’ll be gone for three weeks.”
“How do you know?”
“Their maid told me.”
Inés’s heart thumped inside her chest. She realized that they were really doing this, they had taken the first steps in their mad plan.
Up until now it all had seemed a dream, unreal.
It was happening, yet as Inés hurried back home, she thought that there was much to be done if they wanted to achieve their goals.
Could they do it? Could she do it? Aunt Perla had been awful to her.
Not that her grandfather had been any better, yet they were still family.
Could you harm your family like this? Then Inés remembered her aunt’s slights great and small, and she wrapped her arms tighter around the paper bag with the bolillos.
I’m wicked and I don’t much care, she told herself, and laughter bubbled from her lips as she ran.
After hastily dropping off the bread in the kitchen, she flew up the stairs. When she walked into Ulises’s room, he was lying on the bed, fully dressed. He threw her a lazy look and shook his head.
“You really are not much for knocking, are you?”
“Cándido and Lulú have left town. They’ll be away for three weeks.”
“Are you sure?”
“I think so.”
He sprang up from the bed and laughed. “You brilliant creature,” he said, and he spun her around as if they were dancing, so that she also laughed, infected with his delight.
“We’ll have to be quick. Three weeks is an awfully short time to accomplish anything,” she told him, resting her palms against his shoulders.
“I can do it.”
She looked up at him, into his eyes. He had pretty eyes, the kind more poetic girls might tumble into without a second thought.
Maybe, for a brief while, when she’d loved Salvador, she had been such a girl, a bit too soft and na?ve.
But life had taught her lessons, had tempered her like finely honed steel.
Like the professor had said, you developed a callus.
She had a sudden, sharp pang of fear that Ulises would disappoint her like Salvador had disappointed her, that beneath that handsome exterior he was hollow and useless. She slid her hands down and turned away from him.
He clasped her hand, and she looked again at him. “I can do it,” he assured her.
Her pulse quickened at the touch. “Yes, I know,” she said, and pulled away from him, rubbing her wrist as if he’d scalded it.