Almost Never: A Novel Read Online Free PDF

stood up, the son carrying the heavy suitcase to the exit: he staggered under its weight. His mother had warned him that they would have to cross the Nadadores River by boat. On the other shore a horse-drawn carriage would take them to Sacramento. Two old-fashioned conveyances that then and perhaps even now remain the same … Yes, there was the proof, at that point in the century nobody had yet taken the initiative to build a bridge: how difficult could it be so as to avoid the rowing nuisance? For how long had it been thus? And how about buying an automobile to replace the horse-drawn carriage. No, no modernity here, and hence we have mother and son trembling in the boat. Rowing the whole way. The narrow boat was agile. The current would never hold sway. A gentle pull, ah; a glimmer of danger: yes: as stated, the cloud of dust still to come: a mock or imminent attack? the latter: which is what regrettably occurred: the wheels churning dust off the ground: as if to replicate rusticity they arrived in town like a couple of clowns (dust even in their armpits)— Sacramento was three miles from the river. Before that: a third of a mile from La Polka to the riverbank, but on the other side. The load, for Demetrio. Suffice it to say that the aforementioned crossing was more perturbing than the dusty jaunt: a bath at once, compulsory, with brush, soap, and soap-root plant, as soon as they arrived at the home of Aunt Zulema, Doña Telma’s cousin, where they would stay, for the town had no hotels, not even a modest one, not even a hostel. In short, the clouds of dirt were an added touch. A form of welcome … aggressive? Constant coughing, starting with the coachman. The important thing is that mother and son conversed between bouts. She repeated that Sacramento had an abundance of … et cetera. Demetrio’s rude riposte: You’ve told me more than ten times, Mama. And what if it turns out not to be true? Better just forget about it. But the mother, wearisome and defeated, nonetheless hedged her bets: At least in my day there were lots of beautiful women … I don’t know about now … Hopefully it will be like it once was. And once it was like this and like that, and as the horse-drawn carriage made its way through the streets of the town: one over here, another over there, wow, such well-groomed beauties—abloom! such bodies! such faces! such tresses! through the dust …
    The magic dust acting as a filthy screen: do the beauties bathe … and how many times a day? If so, as Demetrio imagined, it would be the ultimate consolation, because the gaga gawker was already fully engrossed in painting pictures in his mind. He could imagine them (almost) floating. And above all, how beautiful they must be when even with all this dust … was there really that much? Demetrio imagined them naked, like Mireya, sculpted, but, why the comparison when any one of them was ten times as good as … ? Walking loveliness: well-nourished. The agronomist probably thought that those he was watching (lecherously) would attend the wedding. A host of invitations—with any luck! At night, visual delerium: many baths in between … In the meantime the aftereffects of the strenuous journey: colossal exhaustion. For Demetrio felt as though he’d come from the other end of the earth. Hence there rose from his subconscious the utterance “Hi-ro-shi-ma”—disgusting! so many dead. No! he wasn’t in Japan but rather in this small place: where life was flourishing—gorgeous! so healthful, so removed from catastrophes and other degradations … To clarify: Sacramento was horrible. A town staked down in the middle of a desert in a broad valley: irredeemable ugliness, except for the local women … Divine wisdom, could it possibly compensate? or not? Still to be seen if all were really so angelic … and hot! And of foremost importance: capable of whipping up a hearty stew.
    An incidental fact. The scene of the dust-laden ones’ arrival at their