Can't and Won't: Stories Read Online Free PDF

each other in the kitchen.
    Often, before I have said three words to Adela, she yells at me: Si … si, si, si…! and leaves the room. I honestly don’t think I can stand it.
    I say to Luisa: Don’t interrupt me! I say: No me interrumpe!
    The problem is not that Adela does not work hard enough. But she comes to my room with a message from her mother: she tells me the meal I have asked for is impossible, and she shakes her finger back and forth, screaming at the top of her voice.
    They are both, mother and daughter, such willful, brutal women. At times I think they are complete barbarians.
    I have told Adela: If necessary, clean the hall, but do not use the vacuum cleaner more than twice a week.
    Last week she refused point-blank to take the vacuum cleaner out of the front hall by the entrance—just when we were expecting a visit from the Rector of Patagonia.
    They have such a sense of privilege and ownership.
    I have asked them: First listen to what I have to say!
    I took my underthings out to them to be washed. Luisa immediately said that it was too hard to wash a girdle by hand. I disagreed, but I did not argue.
    Adela refuses to do any work in the morning but housecleaning.
    I say to them: We are a small family. We do not have any children.
    When I go to them to inquire about the tasks I have given them, I find they are usually engaged in their own occupations—washing their sweaters or telephoning.
    The ironing is never done on time.
    Today I reminded them both that my underthings needed to be washed. They did not respond. Finally I had to wash my slip myself.
    I say to them: We have noticed that you have tried to improve, and in particular that you are doing our washing more quickly now.
    I have asked Adela: Please, do not leave the dirt and the cleaning things in the hall.
    I have asked her: Please, collect the trash and take it to the incinerator immediately.
    Today I told Adela that I needed her there in the kitchen, but she went to her mother’s room and came back with her sweater on and went out anyway. She was buying some lettuce—for them, it turned out, not for us.
    At each meal, she makes an effort to escape.
    As I was passing through the dining room this morning, I tried, as usual, to chat pleasantly with Adela. Before I could say two words, however, she retorted sharply that she could not do anything else while she was setting the table.
    Adela rushes out of the kitchen into the living room even when guests are present and shouts: Telephone for you in your room!
    Although I have asked her to speak gently, she never does. Today she came rushing out of the kitchen into the dining room saying: Telephone, for you! and pointed at me. Later she did the same with our luncheon guest, a professor.
    I say to Luisa: I would like to discuss the program for the days to come. Today I do not need more than a sandwich at noon, and fruit. But el señor would like a nutritious tea.
    Tomorrow we would like a rather nourishing tea with hard-boiled eggs and sardines at six, and we will not want any other meal at home.
    At least once a day, we want to eat cooked vegetables. We like salads, but we also like cooked vegetables. Sometimes we could eat both salad and cooked vegetables at the same meal.
    We do not have to eat meat at lunchtime, except on special occasions. We are very fond of omelets, perhaps with cheese or tomato.
    Please serve our baked potatoes immediately after taking them from the oven.
    We had had nothing but fruit at the end of the meal for two weeks. I asked Luisa for a dessert. She brought me some little crepes filled with applesauce. They were nice, though quite cold. Today she gave us fruit again.
    I said to her: Luisa, you cannot refer to my instructions as “capricious and illogical.”
    Luisa is emotional and primitive. Her moods change rapidly. She readily feels insulted and can be violent. She has such pride.
    Adela is simply wild and rough, a harebrained savage.
    I say to Luisa: Our guest, Señor