“I study a great deal and never go out.”
“Learn something, boys,” he said to my brothers. “And get ready, it’s Juan’s turn now to go to Guadalajara to become a priest, and then you, Lucas, and you, Mateo, will follow.”
I dared to interrupt the old man, more wrinkled than a glove. “Tell me, Father, when the four of us are priests and you find yourself at the side of God, who will take care of the ranch?”
It was clear he wasn’t expecting this clairvoyant question. It was evident he was perturbed: He squeezed the keys to the basement more furiously than ever and, something unheard of in him, stammered and didn’t know what to say. It took him some time to find the words.
“What God gives us, God takes away. Think of your sainted mother.”
“Which means?” I insisted.
“That the lands will be for Holy Mother Church.”
“Why?” I asked with absolute relevance, I think.
“That’s what I promised my sainted wife. ‘Don’t worry. The lands will belong to the Church. Die in peace, Angelines.’ ”
“And what about us?” I asked, this time with audacity.
Now the old man didn’t hide his anger. “There are provisions in the will. Do you think I’m going to leave all of you out on the street?” He choked. “Insolent,” he concluded and, for the first time, stood and left the dining room.
Then Lucas stirred the fire in the living room, and the four of us sat down, certain the old man was already in his room.
“Do you really want to be a priest, Juan?” I asked the brother who was next to me in age and destiny.
Juan said no.
“What, then?”
“I want to be an agronomist. That way I’ll manage the ranch and make it prosper.”
“I think it’s dumb to go into the Church,” said Lucas. “It’s like going back to the rule of—what do you call it—”
“Mortmain,” I said mildly. “And you, Mateo?”
The impetuous fifteen-year-old didn’t restrain himself. “I want to get married. No priest, no nothing. I’d rather be an idiot in an asylum than a priest. I like skirts, not cassocks. I’m a man now. But damn it, if I tell Papa, he’ll tan my hide.”
I looked at the three of them slowly.
Juan with his face like a turkey egg, saved by large eyes as green as a volcanic lake and red hair very carefully groomed, as if he were afraid of himself in front of the mirror.
Lucas with his face of a psychic reader of tea leaves, very wise with his short brown hair and the tremulous ears of an amiable bat.
And poor little Mateo with pimples on a skin that promised to clear up as soon as he gave the green light to his recent appetite for women.
And in the three of them, the poorly disguised frustration of having to follow in my footsteps and go to the seminary.
“How well you look,” Lucas said to me. “You’ve lost weight and gained some polish at the same time.”
“It’s obvious the seminary has agreed with you,” added Juan.
I looked at them with amused eyes. “No seminary. I’m studying law. I’m going to be an attorney.”
There was a stupefied and at the same time joyful silence.
“But Marcos!” Lucas exclaimed.
“Forget it. Brothers. Listen to me. I’m offering you a way out.” One by one I observed them. “You, Juan, come this year to Guadalajara, enroll in engineering at U.G., and then you, Lucas, say nothing until it’s your turn and follow me to Guadalajara because I have a feeling your field is economics and not mortmain. And you, little brother, don’t give away the game with your impatience. Make love to the girls in the village; here, I’m giving you my supply of condoms, and you go have yourself a time in the brothels here in Los Altos. Then tell me where you want to study, and I’ll arrange it for you.”
I looked at them very seriously. “But it’s our secret, agreed?”
And the four of us, on that unforgettable night of brothers, swore like panthers promising one another not to press the law and to let everything happen
“Learn something, boys,” he said to my brothers. “And get ready, it’s Juan’s turn now to go to Guadalajara to become a priest, and then you, Lucas, and you, Mateo, will follow.”
I dared to interrupt the old man, more wrinkled than a glove. “Tell me, Father, when the four of us are priests and you find yourself at the side of God, who will take care of the ranch?”
It was clear he wasn’t expecting this clairvoyant question. It was evident he was perturbed: He squeezed the keys to the basement more furiously than ever and, something unheard of in him, stammered and didn’t know what to say. It took him some time to find the words.
“What God gives us, God takes away. Think of your sainted mother.”
“Which means?” I insisted.
“That the lands will be for Holy Mother Church.”
“Why?” I asked with absolute relevance, I think.
“That’s what I promised my sainted wife. ‘Don’t worry. The lands will belong to the Church. Die in peace, Angelines.’ ”
“And what about us?” I asked, this time with audacity.
Now the old man didn’t hide his anger. “There are provisions in the will. Do you think I’m going to leave all of you out on the street?” He choked. “Insolent,” he concluded and, for the first time, stood and left the dining room.
Then Lucas stirred the fire in the living room, and the four of us sat down, certain the old man was already in his room.
“Do you really want to be a priest, Juan?” I asked the brother who was next to me in age and destiny.
Juan said no.
“What, then?”
“I want to be an agronomist. That way I’ll manage the ranch and make it prosper.”
“I think it’s dumb to go into the Church,” said Lucas. “It’s like going back to the rule of—what do you call it—”
“Mortmain,” I said mildly. “And you, Mateo?”
The impetuous fifteen-year-old didn’t restrain himself. “I want to get married. No priest, no nothing. I’d rather be an idiot in an asylum than a priest. I like skirts, not cassocks. I’m a man now. But damn it, if I tell Papa, he’ll tan my hide.”
I looked at the three of them slowly.
Juan with his face like a turkey egg, saved by large eyes as green as a volcanic lake and red hair very carefully groomed, as if he were afraid of himself in front of the mirror.
Lucas with his face of a psychic reader of tea leaves, very wise with his short brown hair and the tremulous ears of an amiable bat.
And poor little Mateo with pimples on a skin that promised to clear up as soon as he gave the green light to his recent appetite for women.
And in the three of them, the poorly disguised frustration of having to follow in my footsteps and go to the seminary.
“How well you look,” Lucas said to me. “You’ve lost weight and gained some polish at the same time.”
“It’s obvious the seminary has agreed with you,” added Juan.
I looked at them with amused eyes. “No seminary. I’m studying law. I’m going to be an attorney.”
There was a stupefied and at the same time joyful silence.
“But Marcos!” Lucas exclaimed.
“Forget it. Brothers. Listen to me. I’m offering you a way out.” One by one I observed them. “You, Juan, come this year to Guadalajara, enroll in engineering at U.G., and then you, Lucas, say nothing until it’s your turn and follow me to Guadalajara because I have a feeling your field is economics and not mortmain. And you, little brother, don’t give away the game with your impatience. Make love to the girls in the village; here, I’m giving you my supply of condoms, and you go have yourself a time in the brothels here in Los Altos. Then tell me where you want to study, and I’ll arrange it for you.”
I looked at them very seriously. “But it’s our secret, agreed?”
And the four of us, on that unforgettable night of brothers, swore like panthers promising one another not to press the law and to let everything happen
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