Almost Never: A Novel Read Free Page A

know her bodyguards will be with her, but I don’t care. Then, footfalls; in anger, one could say. The agronomist did not dress or groom himself carefully; he’d dashed out ungirded. Was he in the right? Then, he entered brusquely and encountered Madam and her bodyguards in slothful indolence, lounging in armchairs with springy backs and plush pillows: and: three (incidental) guffaws: and without further ado:
    “Listen, Mireya just told me that you …”
    “If you want to talk to me, you’ll have to make an appointment. Today I can’t. Tomorrow either. In a couple of days if you want … Do you? Tell me now, because if not …”
    “Okay … The day after tomorrow.”
    “Come see me at five in the afternoon.”
    “At five?”
    “Yes. That’s the only time I have free. I’ll see you here.”
    “Good. We’ll be alone?”
    “Alone. I promise.”

3
    H e’d made a strategic gain, small but accompanied by the happy thought that an appointment is an appointment. Even so, Demetrio still had to invent a decent pretext for departing from the orchard long before five in the afternoon. Later, when he took stock of the strength of his position, and considered that he had never left work early before, he concluded that any excuse whatsoever would suffice. All he had to do was throw out an “I have to leave,” and, how could his subordinates, those lowly hicks, possibly reproach him? Power gave him elbow room: ah! self-sufficiency, daring, a dose of disdain, and other attributes that help us understand that his personality consisted of not offering explanations. The hour had come. Face-to-face, Madam and the agronomist. Tentative preambles. Alone in the aforementioned room. And he, finally, straight to the point:
    “With all due respect, I’d like to say that your decision to steadily increase my fee doesn’t seem fair.”
    Faced with such boldness Madam’s anger (and amusement) were sure to ensue, and without pausing she fired back:
    “Look, all my girls are hot, though I admit, some more so than others. If you want only Mireya, you know how things stand, and if you don’t like it, go somewhere else! Otherwise, you won’t get Mireya …”
    “What?”
    “You heard right. I won’t rent you Mireya. And now I’m going to call my bodyguards.”
    “No, wait! You win. I agree. I’ll pay.”
    “What do you plan to do?”
    “I’ll come every day except Mondays, which is when she rests …”
    “Let’s leave it at that. Now, go.”
    Then and there the idea of requesting a raise popped into the agronomist’s mind. A boon in any case. An appointment with the owner of the orchard as soon as possible (God willing, tomorrow!), for only two weeks remained till the Christmas holidays. As he made his way toward the only taxi stand in the vicinity, there on the city outskirts, his mind was abuzz with practical thoughts, in spite of the ruckus around him: treacherous red-light district … full of futile screws? And so in counterpoint, to balance things out, came the spark of the healthy idea that he should branch out, for there were as many loveworthy women as fish in the sea. Respectable love, sacred love, love that would last to an advanced age and have endless sexual summits. Or, as the priests put it: “Until death do us part.” How easy it was for him to absorb such never-abeyant monumental truths! Yes, but what about Mireya: within reach: amorous, forthputting. The memory of her with legs widespread brought back to his ears those loving words uttered two afternoons ago: I like you more and more each time. I hope you keep coming. Phrases spelled carefully out, phrases that might just bore into the agronomist’s dreams: his future dreams. In the meantime, today’s, perhaps; though he might also dream about the owner of the orchard; that gentleman with a sun-beaten face, tinged with a yellowish hue: so judicious and affable. The salary: an abstraction, gray or brownish in color … Let us note that Demetrio