But it was more than enough to excite Júbilo, and to confirm for him that he was indeed going to be living far from the sea. The clacking of the carriage wheels as they glided over the cobblestones was a wonderful substitute for the familiar sound of waves. And as a welcoming gesture, the city presented him with its best sounds. To his delight, Júbilo discovered that the streets were filled with a cacophony of rustling, murmuring, screeching, a great buzz. And to top off the special afternoon, when he returned home he found Chucho, his new neighbor, waiting to initiate their new friendship by inviting him over to his house to listen to a radio program. A group of Chucho’s friends from the colonia had gathered that day, the eighth of May 1923, to listen to the first concert ever to be transmitted by the radio station La Casa del Radio, which belonged to the newspaper El Universal Ilustrado. That night a whole new world opened before his eyes, or rather, before his ears. It seemed incredible to him that the voices of the announcers could be transformed into real presences, into true companions, which made his separation from friends, school, and family much less painful.
Eventually, his friendship with Chucho grew and they spent wonderful afternoons together listening to music after playing outside. They became inseparable, and Júbilo followed Chucho wherever he migrated, because Chucho’s parents seemed to have a strange fascination for moving. They loved to change houses at the slightest provocation. Fortunately, they did so within the confines of the colonia, so it didn’t interfere with Chucho and Júbilo’s friendship. At most, they would have to get used to the new number of steps or blocks that separated one house from the other. But nothing ever managed to separate them or prevent them from getting together to listen to their radio programs.
As the years passed, the only thing that changed was the frequency with which they could get together. Júbilo entered school before Chucho and found himself immersed in a world of obligations and school-related tasks. Marbles, tops, balls, and other toys were relegated to the memory drawer. But he sought out his dear friend every weekend to go to the movies, to ride bikes, or to hide out and smoke. During the breaks from school, Júbilo always went to the Yucatán with his family. It was upon returning from one of these absences that he found Chucho had moved again. Júbilo was eager to visit him as soon as possible, because he wanted to show his friend his incipient mustache.
On his way to his friend’s new house, Júbilo felt a knot in his stomach. It was the first time this had ever happened to him. He didn’t know what to make of it. His stomach didn’t really hurt, it just sort of trembled, as if wanting to tell him something. It was like a premonition, or fear. As he turned a corner, he caught sight of Chucho and waved at him: he was talking to two young people, a boy and a girl. As Júbilo drew nearer, his fear increased and he was tempted to turn and run away, but he couldn’t do that because his friend had already seen him and, besides, the group seemed to be waiting for him. He suddenly remembered how one morning the pigeons that lived on the roof of his house had fled up into the sky: they had sensed the earthquake that shortly afterward shook the whole city. After taking the last few steps toward Chucho and his companions, he understood perfectly. Before him stood the most beautiful thirteen-year-old girl he had ever seen. Chucho introduced his new friends Luz María and Juan Lascuráin to Júbilo. When he reached out to shake hands with the girl, Júbilo nearly doubled over from the pain in his stomach. The touch of her skin transformed him completely and took away his ability to sleep from that moment on. With a smile, Luz María said she preferred to be called Lucha. Júbilo wanted to say something, but it suddenly became very difficult, and when he opened his mouth all that escaped was a sad squawk. They all laughed at Júbilo’s changing voice and made him blush, but then he joined in their laughter.
The reason he laughed with them had nothing to do with the silliness of what had just happened: it stemmed from the enormous pleasure he felt in discovering a new sound. The sound of love. It was a murmur that sounded like laughter, like the breaking of waves, the crashing of happiness mixed with the music of dry leaves carried along by the wind, like sacred music vibrating in his stomach, in his hair, all over his skin, and, of course, in his ears. The sound of love stirred him up in such a way that for a moment he was left completely deaf. Still, Lucha responded. Charmed by his laughter, she invited him over to her house to listen to Glenn Miller’s latest album. Júbilo eagerly accepted the invitation and they all headed for the Lascuráin home.
Lucha’s house was the most popular meeting place in the colonia. The Lascuráins were a happy, generous, sharing family who always kept the door to their home open to others, and Júbilo was no exception. They immediately accepted him with open arms and adopted him into their circle. And he was deeply grateful, for several reasons. Because of the opportunity it gave him to make new friends. Because of the possibility of listening to the radio and the phonograph, equipment that didn’t exist in his own home. And last, but most important, because of the chance to be near thirteen-year-old Lucha, the thought of whom kept him awake at night from that day forward. Lucha was two years younger than Júbilo, but as is quite usual, she was more developed than he was. While his voice was barely beginning to change and a ridiculous fuzz of a mustache was only just sprouting, Lucha already had a pair of fully developed breasts and appetizing hips that were growing more sensuous every day. Júbilo dreamed about her every night and without fail awoke with damp sheets. His best erotic fantasies featured her. His every ejaculation, from the first to the last, was dedicated to her. The whole world revolved around Lucha and because of her it had grown much clearer and brighter.
Shortly thereafter, Júbilo, who was in his second year of high school, learned in physics class that the Earth’s magnetism is produced by the molten iron that spins around its nucleus. The professor had explained that an element called magnetite circulated in the bloodstream of both humans and animals, which allowed them to perceive the Earth’s electromagnetic energy, but this enhanced perception was more pronounced in some individuals than in others. This explained why some animals could anticipate changes beneath the Earth’s crust, as in the case of earthquakes, allowing them to flee, instead of waiting to be crushed to death. Júbilo immediately thought of the day he had first met Lucha. He was certain that his personal magnetite had been drawn into harmony with Lucha’s magnetic center and had tried to prevent disaster. It had tried to warn him that his life was in danger, or at least the life he had led until then; that from that moment on, his story would be divided into before knowing Lucha and after, because their meeting had changed his life forever.
Júbilo believed that the iron circulating in Lucha’s blood must be particularly special, because it managed to produce a magnetic pull as powerful as the earth’s. The girl attracted men’s desire as honey drew bees. And those unrequited desires kept spinning around her, increasing her natural magnetism to alarming levels. There was no boy in the colonia who didn’t want to be her boyfriend, who didn’t dream of giving her her first kiss, who didn’t long to become one with her.
Júbilo turned out to be the lucky one. A few months after they met, during a Christmas posada, he declared his love for her, and to everyone’s surprise, Lucha, the unconquerable, replied she loved him too. During the first months of their courtship, Júbilo was a most respectful novio. He did no more than just hold her hand and give her light kisses on the mouth. But gradually he dared to go further. Lucha remembered clearly the first time that Júbilo had inserted his tongue between her lips. It was a very strange sensation. She wasn’t sure whether it had been agreeable or not. The only thing she knew was that the next day she couldn’t look him in the eyes without blushing.
From there they moved on to long embraces, accompanied by similarly drawn-out kisses. With the passing of time, and as their trust built, not to mention their passion, they progressed to tighter embraces during which their bodies were pressed against one another…and, well…It reached the point where Lucha could distinctly feel the hardening o
f Júbilo’s member pressing against her pelvis. After those embraces came the timid sliding of Júbilo’s hand down Lucha’s back. And that’s where her problem really started. Lucha was accustomed to getting everything she wanted, but now that she was burning with desire for Júbilo to caress not only her back, but a little lower too, she had to repress the desire to ask him to. The same thing would happen when Júbilo held her hand as they sat in the sala listening to music. Sometimes, not wanting to, yet wanting to, Júbilo would brush his hand against Lucha’s leg, and her skin would suddenly become covered with goose bumps. She was very aroused by the idea that Júbilo would openly caress her legs and that he might slide his hand up to her intimate parts, but the chance of that happening was curtailed by social convention. At any rate, for one reason or another, after Júbilo’s visits, Lucha invariably ended up with damp panties, burning cheeks, and agitated breathing. Every day, they sought out with greater urgency opportunities to be alone together, but they weren’t always successful. There was never a lack of busybodies to spy on them, whether it was one of Lucha’s six unmarried siblings, her parents, or the servants.
However, one day the perfect opportunity presented itself. One of don Carlos’s sisters had died and the whole family went to the funeral, except Lucha, who stayed home with a terrible headache. The origin of her illness was none other than the accumulated and repressed desire over the seven years of her relationship with Júbilo. While she was alone at home, Júbilo paid his regular visit. They went into the sala and while they listened to a Glenn Miller record, Lucha took Júbilo’s hand and placed it squarely on her breast. Júbilo’s reaction, somewhere between surprise and satisfaction, was to accept the cordial invitation, and he caressed her breasts with impassioned tenderness. That day, Lucha knew that the time had come for them to marry, because it wasn’t right for a señorita to permit her novio to caress her like that. And it wasn’t until this moment that she had understood why! It was obvious that from here on there was no going back. Her passion was only going to grow stronger and she couldn’t bear it any longer. She was tired of resisting the call of desire.
On the other hand, if she gave in now, it would be impossible for her to reach her wedding as a virgin, as her parents expected. To Lucha this social hypocrisy seemed totally absurd. If a woman’s purity was shattered the instant she lost her virginity, that meant a man’s penis was the most impure thing in the world. She couldn’t agree with that. For many years, the nuns at school had been teaching her that God had made man in his own image. Therefore, there couldn’t be a part of the human body that was impure, because each one was a divine creation. Besides, it seemed totally absurd to her to think that God had given men hands that weren’t supposed to caress, and women clitorises that weren’t meant to be touched. Of course, it never occurred to her to use this argument to convince her parents to let her marry Júbilo. But she used many others instead, until she managed to convince them that she was totally captivated by Júbilo and that it would be much better to allow her to marry him, in spite of the fact that at twenty-two he couldn’t offer her a very promising future.
Lucha had gotten her way, but now that she had obtained what she had so desired, she realized a lot of other things were missing. She had never expected that being married would be so difficult, nor what it meant to be married to a poor man. Her parents had warned her, but who listens to parental advice when one is in love? No one. The time she spent in bed with Júbilo was wonderful, but then Júbilo would go to work and leave her alone. As soon as he closed the door, the house would grow silent. The laughter left with him. Lucha had no one to talk to. She missed her family. She missed her friends. She missed the bustle of her parents’ house. She missed the shouts of the street vendors. She missed the whistle of the sweet potato vendor’s cart. She missed the singing of the canaries at home. She missed her Victrola. She missed her records. If only she had a radio, she wouldn’t feel so lonely. But she didn’t have one. And she didn’t see any possibility of acquiring one in the near future, since Júbilo saved every last centavo they had left over, in hopes of buying their own house some day.
A deep melancholy gradually overcame Lucha. There was no one with whom she could discuss her worries. The month they spent in each tiny pueblo didn’t allow her enough time to establish the kind of friendship that would make her feel comfortable about confiding her problems. In addition, she found that the people in the provinces were very cliquey and gossipy. She didn’t realize that her very appearance was enough to scandalize them. Her haircut and the way she dressed, which seemed copied from fashion magazines, never failed to raise whispers as she passed. Of course, people like to criticize anyone who appears different, so she was the perfect target. She was young, beautiful, dressed like a movie star, and drove her own automobile! How could she not attract attention? So Lucha felt isolated, and never more so than in Huichapan. The rain drove her into a deep gloom. She hated the absence of the sun. Her mamá had taught her as a young girl that the sun purified and bleached clothing. Lucha believed that its purifying power extended even further. She was convinced it also cleansed impurities of the soul. And in her house in Mexico City, well, her former house, her parents’ house, she had always been able to go into the garden and lie in the sun when she needed to drive away sadness.
For a girl who grew up showered with indulgence and gratification, life with Júbilo was difficult to bear. Not because of any lack of love or attention from him, but because married life wasn’t what she had expected. Lucha had imagined that, like her mother, she would have servants who would take care of all the household chores so she could dedicate herself to playing the piano, entertaining her friends, and shopping. Her parents had raised her to be a princess. She had attended a school for young ladies where she learned to speak English and French. She knew how to play the piano, embroider, and set a proper table. She had taken courses in gourmet cooking. So she did know how to cook, but on a gas stove, not on coal. She excelled at French cooking, not Mexican. She didn’t really know much about Mexico, and of its cuisine she knew even less. Her Mexico was limited to the capital, or rather, to the boundaries of her own colonia. She thought the people in every house in Mexico ate like they did in her parents’ house and that all leftovers were stored in a refrigerator. She had never imagined that if she wanted a cup of coffee when she got up in the morning she would first have to light a fire in the stove. She didn’t know how to. Nothing she had studied could help her. She was only now learning the things that no teacher had ever taught her: for starters, that food that is not refrigerated spoils, it rots and is invaded by bugs. It requires a very organized mind to survive without a refrigerator. To know what to buy, and how much. The refinements of her education didn’t help her either when it came to washing laundry in the sink. She didn’t have the slightest idea how to do it. At home, her mother had the latest-model wringer washing machine. Washing by hand required much more effort. And besides, she didn’t have the right clothes for housework. She felt completely out of place, like a gringo on the dance floor.
The only good thing was that she could count on Júbilo’s full support. At his side, all her problems vanished. The unknown Mexico appeared before her with a smiling face. In the company of her husband, food in the markets would taste delicious and even horse droppings would smell glorious. Thanks to Júbilo, Lucha was able to discover the real Mexico, provincial Mexico, the Mexico of the poor, the Indians, the forgotten. A Mexico that was gradually being covered by railway lines and telegraph poles, spreading out over its surface like a spiderweb. And Lucha couldn’t help feeling like a fly about to be trapped by the spider, by some dark force hiding behind all this progress. She was unsettled by all the changes and by the other new developments she sensed were approaching. It all seemed so new to her: she felt insufficiently prepared.
Most of all, she resented the lack of money. If she only had money, everything would be easy. She would be able to buy herself a few dresses and shawls that would make h
er feel less out of place in the markets. The rough jute bags in which she carried her shopping had already ruined all her silk stockings. Her new life required new clothes, a new hairstyle, and new shoes, but she had no money. Nor did the person on whom she depended.
She had gotten married knowing that it was to a very young, very poor man, who had barely begun his career as a telegraph operator and who was not yet settled, but she had never imagined what all that really meant. All that had mattered to her was losing her virginity. Now she had to face the consequences, and forget her former life as a pampered young girl. She could no longer count on help from her mother, or her brothers, or her nana, nor on economic support from her father. Now she had to take care of things for herself. Light the fire in the morning, cook on coal, wash clothes by hand, dust, scrub, survive without perfume or Colgate toothpaste: and make sure that Júbilo didn’t notice how dissatisfied she felt. He deserved more than that. He was very good to her and gave her everything he could. It wasn’t much, but he gave it with true love. She had to admit that he struggled to make her happy, and while she was with him she never missed her colonia, her friends, her parties, her record player, or her radio. But when she was alone, she would cry when she counted the little money she had for the day’s shopping. When she went to the market she had to count every last centavo and to make the coins stretch as far as she could. As she walked through the stalls she would count her money in her head and rack her brains to find a way to prepare a complete meal with the fewest ingredients. And once she had everything she needed, walking home she would go through all the options for cooking them, all the while dreaming of the day when economic hardship would disappear from her life.
Swift as Desire Page 6
