One Out of Two by Daniel Sada Read Free Book Online Page B

instinctively, but her voice didn’t carry, nothing was voiced. She thought about throwing a stick at them, forcing them to part, unlocking them from their bosom embrace, but from that distance she might fail to hit either on the back, or her missile might reach a bush, out of which would surely explode the ephemeral colors of many butterflies; so the poor thing gave up: resigned to her role that day: to watch with the composure of one who understands, or tries to.
    Understand that her sister might be right, because if there rose between them a conflict over the man—a question of keeping a weather eye open—Gloria could boast that she had briefly but forevermore tasted affection, or at least amicable deception.
    Anyway, Constitución walked away very carefully. She didn’t want to see more, suffer in vain, ergo, the last scene she caught was a switch: they were conversing, sitting, almost motionless, holding hands: both in profile and between them, like an emblem, the hue of the evening as everlasting glue.
    She left: the so-called winner had to go straight home. Furtively: hugging the walls? No need, considering the plenitude of the other two.
    Next time … It would have to be like now: this was the lesson she had learned from her other half: no more imbecilic abstinence: instead: candid and open verve, though not allowing the man, in the pursuit of his traitorous and horny adventure, to touch a leg or a breast, neither under or over the clothes … Anyway, she had her doubts. Lying there in bed, all alone, sunk in her uncertainties, she wanted her sister to get back already, not too late and not with her hair mussed from necking, that would be perdition, if … And as the minutes passed she pictured more and more excesses, or rather: the worst: that Gloria and Oscar had wandered to where the nopales grow, and that they hadn’t gone sooner because they were waiting for it to grow dark; she even thought they might climb over a rise, there to give of themselves freely and lasciviously, away from the stares and the whispers, and so … Then, finally, while hanging from the heights of her tenterhooks, to her great relief she heard the creak of the front door.
    It was Gloria, no doubt about it … Yes, indeed: who else could it be? Her other half, who found the house in shadows and silence, dreadful nightfall, though a sliver of light, like a tightrope, insinuated contours. It seemed as if the surroundings were turning sepia, as if plastered with peach marmalade, as she switched on light after light to look for her sister; as she made her way forward, intrigued, with the bouquet of flowers in her hand toward the bedroom the two of them shared; as she saw her twin under the covers—phew! at least she hadn’t run off—with her eyes wide open, staring hard at her with a touch of terror in her pupils, or maybe intimidation; she didn’t know whether to express her joy or ask if they were going to have dinner.
    Cloaked madness and a static moment neither could intrude upon. Constitución did not want to demand an explanation for the kisses and touches, because the plan had been different, slower, more irksome. So they looked at each other, perplexed, as if good and evil had suddenly swapped places and from then on they could pretend to ignore both, maybe melt them down, or believe they had melted them down into a dreamy and detached state wherein nothing is truthful because it doesn’t last long, because in the end it strays, because it fails to settle into a shape. And their stare is, their stares are, so many things. No … They must be simply fed up.
    The prolonged stare they shared, eyes glued on eyes: one stare, one single unbreakable thought, bound together, therefore, also in the consequences. Stares that deliberate.
    Static? … Who knows, because: the only thing Gloria wanted to do was give the flowers to her twin. It was an invitation to the continuation of an ideal: the other was grateful for her deference, so: