Swift as Desire by Laura Esquivel Read Free Book Online Page B

get even with Júbilo. The look don Pedro gave Júbilo before leaving the train station let him know that he now had an enemy for life. But Júbilo didn’t care. He knew that in two weeks he would be transferred to Pátzcuaro and he was certain that he would never cross paths with don Pedro ever again. Júbilo had no idea that fate had other plans for both of them. But at that moment he couldn’t think about anything other than being in Lucha’s arms. He desperately needed to rest. He wanted to forget about the night and get back to his normal life, but it was too late. That night would become a watershed moment in his life.
    Some of those present invited him to join them for a
birria
, a tripe stew, at the market to celebrate his victory, but Júbilo wasn’t in the mood for it—he excused himself as politely as he could and turned to walk away. What was he supposed to be celebrating?! He felt like a total loser. He had lost his contact with numbers. He had failed as a receptive antenna. He had dishonored the profession of telegraph operator. He had failed everything that was most important in his life. Not even the sun could brighten him up now. And that wasn’t just a figure of speech.
    A light rain, the
chipi-chipi
, as the locals called it, softly soaked the streets. It didn’t make any noise, but it was bothersome just the same. The dampness of the place couldn’t have been any more in tune with Júbilo’s mood. He felt an ache in his bones and in his soul. And thecloudy sky was itself an immense impediment to the alleviation of his suffering. It was so difficult for Júbilo not to be able to see the sun, not to be able to connect with it, not to be able to warm himself with its rays. Suddenly, as if the sky had taken pity on him, the clouds opened and allowed the first rays of sun to filter through. Júbilo immediately stopped in his tracks to enjoy the beauty of the sunrise. For many years he had made a habit of greeting the sun as part of his daily ritual. His grandmother had taught him to venerate the sun, and he had faithfully maintained the tradition, to the point that before he began his day he felt compelled to seek the great star’s blessing. So Júbilo, with his arms raised high, now made his usual greeting, but unlike every other day, this time he didn’t receive any response. The sun had stopped speaking to him. Júbilo believed that it was doing this to teach him a lesson. He knew he should never have used his ability as a mediator, as a receptor and communicator, for something so superficial as a game of cards. He should never have used confidential information for personal benefit. However, he did feel that the punishment he was receiving was exaggerated. He had recognized his mistakes, but he didn’t think they were that grave. After all, this was the first time he had erred.
    All this self-judging and speculation came purely out of Júbilo’s own guilty conscience: it had nothing to do with reality. It wasn’t true that the sun had stopped speaking to him, and even less true that it was punishing him. What was really happening was that the earth was beingaffected by atmospheric phenomena generated by the sun, and when there are a lot of visible sunspots, radio signals are distorted and are more difficult to receive. And in that year, 1937, the sun was in full activity, making it impossible for Júbilo to properly connect with it. The same phenomenon explained why he hadn’t been able to intercept don Pedro’s thought waves during the poker game, and why he often found it difficult to understand Lucha, a woman influenced by the magnet of the north and who suffered like no one else when sunspots appeared. Knowing this would have saved Júbilo a lot of problems. More than anything else, he would have understood that sometimes good intentions aren’t enough to establish good contact with the cosmos. That with the presence of sunspots there would always be a loose connection somewhere, some