One Out of Two Read Online Free PDF Page B

arms and that knitted brow in the shop. She probably intuited that questions would carry more poison than salve; but, in spite of it all, what was extraordinary was not the clever gimmicks the winning twin used to make her case, but rather the diligence, the scrupulous and obvious artistry the loser had employed when laying out the meal.
    The meanings, the feelings …
    No.
    Not a significant word passed between them. Constitución noticed a certain amount of envy being suppressed with great effort by she who had been, till then, her mirror. Envy? she thought, though maybe not: for there were no dramatic outpourings or angry pleas. So, what was going on? Throughout the meal, only the clinking of cutlery and a masquerade of good manners, no furtive glances sneaking out of the corner of an eye … Specifically, prudence held sway: still: she who had won had no choice but to keep a lid on it, think things through carefully. Gloria was the first to finish and, without even saying “excuse me,” made quickly off to the bedroom. Such childish antics notwithstanding, the moment to clear the air had still not arrived, and, what else could the other do!: she chose to wait: whatever would be, would be, if, that is, it could be …
    A tragedy or a joke?
    What follows is as limpid as the light of day. Gloria went to bed: irresponsible. She who had always been so very obliging—in other words, a robot who sewed—was not that way today, not at all. Maybe sleep would spur her on the next day, but for now she willingly turned the reins of the shop over to her sister, who went straight there, leaving the issues they’d avoided all day to be broached after dark. There in the shop she could spin her own threads of action; in the meantime, she told herself: “I know, she’s suffering, but I’d rather talk to her when she’s more relaxed.”
    Constitución, all alone and with the shop door closed, stayed late elaborating shapes, but only of thought; she didn’t work, either, not knowing for sure what she should do: merrily set about sewing as usual, and if so, what stitch should she use?: and how?; apply her scissors to an idea or the fabric itself?: such foolproof opposites, so which way to turn?: toward the vanity of having been chosen by a man who was, at least, well scrubbed, or toward the marvel or misfortune of that unavoidable likeness, her sister?: mirror, shadow, paradox, or diabolical curse; if she was fundamentally an obstacle … She made as if to do so—there was a lot of work—then stopped. Better for now to focus on the ordering of reality, one more day without stitching wouldn’t provoke a sudden plunge, though … An idea crossed her mind that had come to seem more and more plausible over the past three months or so.
    This was it: to let her hair grow so she could tease it into a beehive; and to wear different clothes than Gloria: garments that would reveal that enormous beauty mark above her right shoulder blade. Yes, so Oscar would see it right off the bat. Wear dark glasses and a darker shade of lipstick, or pencil her eyebrows, or …
    Turning it over: her thoughts churning, and right around midnight, just as she was about to reach a decision, that is: go to her sister to explain her resolve, a doubt suddenly appeared. The fact was, the two of them had been entwined since they were inside their mother’s belly, and they had worked so hard to live life simply, as two peas in a pod. Two halves that had always been a single seed, a single pureness, and a single path. No, they couldn’t separate, and a change at this stage, what would that entail? Constitución had to immediately repent, even feel ashamed. She couldn’t bear for the other to suffer.
    Detour—and an affirmation—back to feelings of sameness. Place herself on the other side of the mirror and from there understand, feel what the loser is now feeling. Better like this. As if some demon had sent her an urgent message from a primordial cave to make her