One Out of Two Read Online Free PDF

behind her ear, like a carpenter … What had come over her equal? She finally understood that it might indeed have been a mistake to go on and on for so long and in so much boring detail simply because she was happy to have been noticed by a man, that is, any man, who was looking for a woman in order to … Because until then—and here’s the truth—not even a horse had allowed his gaze to linger longingly on either of them, and it was for this very reason that Gloria could not be her accomplice either in this or in any other idyll. But the chatterbox refused to emulate her sister’s angry attitude, and instead turned back to her work, telling herself: “I understand her anger, but I know she’ll get over it. Anyway, she should be happy for me.”
    In the meantime, their customers came pouring in. As a rule, the twins didn’t talk to anybody: they didn’t like wasting time; they even put up a sign that read: WE ARE BUSY PROFESSIONALS. RESTRICT YOUR CONVERSATION TO THE BUSINESS AT HAND. PLEASE DO NOT DISTURB US FOR NO REASON. SINCERELY: THE GAMAL SISTERS. They did not want, of course, to be rude. For although the twins knew from experience that people take advantage of the least sign of friendliness to engage in endless gossip, they couldn’t dispense with the politeness they had always shown between them. They had never shouted at each other like Furies, and they weren’t about to start now.
    Hence, in front of others, all that turbulence and subconscious delight got redirected back into their hearts, or their backbones, for they were women of integrity, even in the toughest of times, and they had to feign at least tainted harmony and elegance in front of others, show those who patronized their shop the concrete courtesies they deserved. Their success was—and they knew this—in large part built upon such a foundation.
    Quick, even if nervous, dispatchers, with the requisite professional grins, because otherwise … Let’s not forget that the competition is always lying in wait.
    But, alas, this time wasn’t like other times. The man from the wedding turned out to be a thunderbolt sundering them apart. The mere fact that he existed led to a still indecipherable double entendre. As soon as the customers left, they sulkily returned to their former positions: Gloria, by the door: stubborn; and the other hard at work, having forgotten, on top of everything else, to take the pencil out from behind her ear.
    For a few brief moments, they looked like two withered chestnuts, the comings and goings of their customers preventing further developments. During one of these intervals, when they’d been left on their own, Gloria offered a solution:
    “I’m going home, because I feel like it and because I think I’ve earned it, and I’m leaving the rest for you. Anyway, I don’t need to ask your permission. While you were at the wedding, I worked myself to the bone, till midnight. I sewed more than twice as much. Now it’s your turn … I’ll see you there at lunchtime. I feel like making a delicious salad for the two of us.”
    There was a tug on her voice at the end: that “for the two of us,” weighed down with surly sarcasm. The quiet one was finally and ardently showing her mettle. Constitución felt the hatchet fall gently, calmly, but also effectively.
    And the loser, the one with right on her side, the one who wanted to complain without going too far, just far enough so that the other didn’t dare reproach her, fled, because: a single nasty comment could be catastrophic. Let her go, what harm could it do? she wouldn’t go far. Home, lunch. An understandable outrage: good grief!
    Then came the moment when they were both sitting at the table sharing the culinary masterpiece that Gloria had prepared with incomparable care: a sumptuous salad of fresh produce, and myrtle juice, and some local ham bought who knows where. Lip-smacking! all this to stop the other from daring to question her attitude: those crossed