One Out of Two (5 page)

So: they took out the bottle of Club 45, full of enough booze to get them both quite tipsy.

Cheers! they said, and toasted to their good fortune, to perennial sisterhood, and yes: to be as they were, reluctantly submitting to but nonetheless taking a stand against love’s conventions, against the relativity of the flesh, both of theirs, their parallel excitement, so that by clinking their glasses together they were marking the beginning of an enterprise that might very well compensate them for all their sorrows. And they played their records and danced with winged steps, and after they’d gotten thoroughly soused—gulp!—they discussed the precautions they would take, and between gales of laughter, they proposed guidelines: sustainable or not: but festive nonetheless, for tomorrow there’d be time for revisions.

In the meantime, wear beautiful dresses made with all the art their hands could muster. Not for anything in the whole wide world allow Oscar Segura, confident and enamored, to tempt them with pretty words, subtly, to shed their sexual modesty, not because the prospect of such delights disgusted them—not on your life!—but only to prevent rash actions of any kind, for therein lay the risk: if they undressed, he’d discover the birthmark that distinguished them. By the same token, they wouldn’t be able to wear see-through clothes, or clothes for hot spells that leave the thighs and shoulders exposed, for that would cause insoluble problems. Most importantly, they would both go by the name “Constitución,” so imagine the likeness; the same hairdo, the same tone of voice, to a highly nuanced degree, the same sweetness, intentionally, similar facial expressions and reactions—this, of course, not something they needed to rehearse—and as for what was discussed, they would tell each other immediately, almost word for word, so as to avoid blunders that would make Oscar suspect that he was dealing with two rather than one: an ideal one: the one and only apple of his eye.

Between toasts and off-the-cuff jokes, they came to agreement on many things … Constitución put down the stakes and the other followed the path laid out, without asides or any picking of nits, everything in proper order, and long like a river, very long …

Their dancing brought an end to their conversation, and they finally slumped over, their heads resting on the dining room table. Almost at dawn: total surrender.

They didn’t give a hoot about missing a day of work: what the hell! The moment they were living demanded dissipation. But they did agree that the first date would go to the vanquisher, of course … As to the rest: the unfilled orders, the pushy customers, the shop left with the lights on, but closed. How did that happen? For how long? A whole day! … Two would have been better.

To wit: let people think whatever the hell they like.

/

“Look, there he is, three blocks away.”

“Where?”

“That man, there, he’s carrying something white with what looks like a red splotch on top.”

“The one dressed in green?”

“Yes, he’s stopping people, probably asking them where the shop is, can you see? He’s coming this way and … See how long his strides are?”

“Not bad-looking … Though …”

“Hey, what’s up with you? Remember what we agreed? Go, hide, and step on it!”

“But, it’s just … There’s nowhere
to
hide, and I can’t just crouch down in the corner.”

“Put on a hat and get out of here. He mustn’t see you.”

“What hat? Don’t tell me you want me to put on that orange one?”

“I don’t care what you put on, even a scrap of fabric to cover your head, but go, run, run. Now!”

Gloria did as she was told, placed two or three rags over her head, and with another she covered her face but left one eye exposed; with the rush and her nerves, she almost stumbled but righted herself unscathed, then scurried away in the opposite direction from Oscar, who was but a few steps away, yes, just as Constitución was becoming overeager—her plan was to act cool rather than bold, so she stood smugly to one side of the shop door, pretending to seem interesting by staring off into the distance; in the meantime, the other, forcibly sent on her way, looked like a bizarre lay sister of sorts, and once round the corner, she stopped and removed the rags. Some passersby must have witnessed that particular act, for it wasn’t a sight one sees every day.

Sunday. The day for bathing and lavishly applying perfumes. In the evening, people go for a stroll to get some air, especially during those dog days of summer: out: to see and be seen, by inertia to the town square: the place for local beauties with salacious gaits. Lots of monkey business today, which is why some busybody would undoubtedly notice the morbid curiosity of that lady lurking on the corner, and farther away, the other supposedly aloof one standing at the shop door … and at her age? What a scenario! and the fact that one of them was hiding made it all so obvious. Everybody knew them!

From what Gloria could see, at the only moment she dared look, her victorious sister—be that as it may—talked to the man, then padlocked the shop door shut. First step accomplished; per their superpremeditated agreement, the suitor should never enter the shop, because if he saw the two machines, he’d start wheedling information out of them by asking lots of questions, and then some random detail, maybe circumstantial, would raise a doubt, possibly two; better not give him an inch: nothing: no way, never. The man had already handed her sister what he was carrying: a gift with a bow, which Constitución, certainly blushing, opened slowly: that is: without expressions of glee. All well and good. And, since today’s watching twin knew that the lovebirds would go to the walnut grove on the edge of town: the edge was here: in this direction, they were coming her way, Gloria realized. So: rush away without losing sight of them. Now, more bereft then ever, because the unhappy spy had to quickly find a hiding place and cover her face again with those rags. No. Luckily she found a redoubt reserved especially for her, where she could watch them pass at a reasonable distance and where she could finally take a deep breath … A gift of fate … Then: follow them furtively like a black widow spider pressed against a wall: wherever, that is, there were walls.

Follow them: keeping those rags clutched firmly in her hand in case the suitor turned around—she had to anticipate that—so she could quickly dissemble their too-obvious sameness. She continued, ever at the ready. That’s how things transpired.

However, while they strolled, they still didn’t touch—so much the better!—because desire sharpens, because a love like this, at least at first, seems very sacred. If only it could remain like that for a lifetime! … Though a little nibble, a tiny pinch of mischief, never goes begging.

Well, there was Constitución, her modesty fully intact.

In any case, they reached the spot: the glorious walnut grove, where huge logs lay thick and fallen: ideal and romantic: to sit down on one and from there contemplate the afternoon: alone: watching each other attentively, and those suggestive pauses, and Gloria observing that idyllic scene from afar, from behind a fir tree; she wanted to imagine the conversation, feel the same shivers her sister felt; that atmosphere imbued with voices wherein each word is a contour, and certain internal pressures are, might be, manifested in a nervous grimace or some chance brush of skin against skin. Herewith, the tragic struggle against temptation, the latent caresses, and the kisses that say so many things that cannot be expressed for the sake of simple equanimity, or rather: until things become a little clearer … Hands resting on the tree trunk, and that’s all: perfectly still. Only approximations, where silence is: where silence would like to be a premise, maybe even nakedness, love, loyalty, substance: penetrating certainties: delayed passion.

His token of affection was a pair of bobble earrings, iridescent crystals for Gloria to wear because:

“He’ll be back next Sunday. Now it’s your turn, like we agreed. But you should definitely wear these earrings,” Constitución said.

More and more work, however, in the shop: they had to make up for lost time, otherwise their customers would take their business elsewhere. During that period, their competition was catching up, other shops were starting to open, though warily, not so much as to threaten their solvency, but, yes, at a certain point, enough for them to feel that they were not the only game in town.

After settling on their arrangement, which was good for both of them in the same way, and having left their turmoil behind, they were able to temper their emotions, and: their goals became once again what they had been: to be tops in their humble field: dullards, perfectionists, squeezing every last drop out of every hour of every day, as had always been their wont: morning, noon, and night, and making better use of their time by devoting themselves fully to their stitches and their dressmaking.

By keeping their eyes glued on that prize, they prevented people from tricking them into getting emotional over their still-budding courtship, or from the love of one affecting the other whereby both of them would end up leaving orders half done.

We repeat: if resentment ever popped up, it was by that time so well hidden, so puerile, and so spineless, it didn’t matter a bit; in fact, neither made so much as a wisecrack, for they knew all too well that so much of what they were planning to live could never be anything more than a passionate game, a lurid possibility.

Nor—at least at first—did it cross their minds that a full experience of mutual love—without all that foolish tact—would end in tragedy. If both of them accepted the lie, an excess of fiction could possibly, ultimately, turn the mistake into a truth; a blind truth, but still; in other words—and this fits right in—they’d both marry him and have identical children and confusion would reign in spite of proper or bad manners, and taken even one step further: the government and the Church would, considering the circumstances, allow modern marriages between one man and two women or a girl and two or three boys … So, the attempt: would it be tragedy? comedy? drama? or what?

Supposition and faith complement each other. The etceteras are, will one day be, provisional certainties.

In other ways—it must be said—each continued to weave her own ideal. Such prerogatives, reconsidered by Gloria and concealed by Constitución, were avoided when they spoke. Calm and, indeed, industrious, they stuck to the grindstone, and when there weren’t and customers, they took the opportunity to talk about the man, the ruse they were using, here and there dropping a hint or two about their doubts as to his intentions, satisfied, even in this, to pick apart the present and place it quickly on a sound footing.

Though …

Each coveted her own secrets, her own plans, just in case something unexpected occurred. In this case, Gloria, whose turn it was the following Sunday, wanted to be just a little bit treacherous: for: while listening every night to her sister’s advice, she toyed with the possibility of playing something other than second fiddle in this relationship. She wanted, rather, to also take some initiative, though she never said as much, she only listened and acted the saint, as if not even butter would melt in her mouth. Two-faced! Yes, that’s it, exactly the modifier she deserves. Especially when her sister mentioned such trifles as: that she shouldn’t ask him about this, that, or the other because then Oscar would think that his charming girlfriend was forgetful, or even, God forbid, that she wasn’t an ace with details, like so many other women around here.

At night, while they were dining on light fare—as they often did to watch their figures—Constitución, brimming with enthusiasm and verve, wanted to pick apart, point by point, the most salient features of her conversation so that the other wouldn’t stick her foot in her mouth on the next date, and on Saturday night, the eve of, she took out a pencil and paper to write down step-by-step instructions: because she was nervous and for good reason.

With the morrow still hazy, the so-called chatterbox considered of utmost importance the suitor’s concerns, a few of which we will mention in passing: he had a lot of questions about Constitución’s background: What about her family? Where did her parents live? Where were they now? and without blinking an eye she told him that she had been orphaned when she was young and that her aunt from Nadadores had raised her until she became an adult: that she had left when she was around twenty or twenty-one. Saying it like that, with so much relative honesty, was to employ a feminine wile that allowed them to observe the candidate’s reaction, though, to her relief, he said nothing that betrayed any shock, making only an expression of slight displeasure, superfluous if you wish, a not-very-sly wince that flitted across his face, no questions, as if to let her know that his love and devotion were of indisputable integrity.

Later, during that same loving exchange, he talked almost obsessively about his work, in other words: the weaning of she-goats and the difficulties involved in selling them; about how pigs were not very profitable. Out of all this, the real girlfriend conjured up abstract images that consisted of small arrows being shot at sentences—we could call them precepts—of the most profound transcendence.

“You don’t need to be such a stickler. I promise you that when he gets here tomorrow, I’ll be very cautious. I won’t ask stupid questions or say anything compromising.”

The other sighed passionately and mentioned in passing:

“At the beginning, when we were alone there in the walnut grove, I could tell he wanted to kiss me on the cheek, or on the forehead, or who knows where; he sidled up close to me while I was gazing out over the horizon, acting like a donkey about to start braying; I: like a surly mare, turned quickly to face him and he politely backed off. It’s better that way, not a good idea to give him too much leeway.”

“No, not a good idea … but why?” Gloria asked herself, inside where her lewd plans were being laid.

Then came the long-awaited day and her opportunity.

That first time …

The substitute was ready punctually at four in the afternoon, her hair done up in a do identical to her sister’s, the same amount gathered and the same amount loose, flaunting those iridescent earrings: courtesy of the beau. The shop properly locked—to avoid any sudden urges—and at its door, the radiant figure Oscar took to be the same woman: without optical or other illusions; all of which Constitución watched from the street corner, as if she were a meddlesome child viewing romance from afar and longing to be there; others saw her, too: of course—Sunday, hot, vanities: imagine the pains they took, trying to guess since the week before which of the twins was dating.