darkness.
From then on, his profile began to take shape before me as I directed a more human focus on his life. Everything made more sense now: his letters, his movements, his correspondence. Thus the days rolled by as I proceeded on a firm footingâor so I thoughtâon the straight path toward reconstructing my life. Until an unexpected call at the beginning of October made me stumble. It was Alberto, once more shattering the harmony.
We hadnât spoken to each other since the summer, before I had learned through David of his imminent paternity. In fact, as soon as I found out, it was I who dug in my heels and refused any type of contact whatsoever. I chose to avoid him, knowing that it would be painful to be confronted with the crudeness of the circumstances, like throwing acid on an open wound. Most likely Alberto had also understood and decided not to continue calling in order to spare me further suffering. Or perhaps he didnât understand and simply forgot about me, immersed as he was in his vital new project in arefurbished loft with that young workmate who now was also his life mate.
It seemed a lifetime ago that Alberto and I had struggled so that he could take the examination to join the higher ranks of the civil service. For three grueling years we had made a coordinated effort with the aim of obtaining our objective. When we got married, neither of us had finished college. I was a semester and a half away, and he only had a couple of months to go. At the time we thought it wisest to concentrate our efforts on his professional career. Besides being a year ahead of me in the university, Alberto had a perfectly clear idea of what he wanted to do with his life: prepare for the public service exam as his father and brothers had. My future plans, on the other hand, were vaguer. In fact, they hardly existed. I liked languages, I liked books, I liked traveling. Undefined banalities, in short, with little hope of them soon materializing into some type of productive job that was moderately well paid. So Alberto, whose résumé was inferior to mine, devoted himself to studying. And I, meanwhile, put my humble aspirations aside and made sure our little family got ahead.
The success, naturally, was all his: he had prepared manically for the exam, obtaining his objective on the second round. Meanwhile, I neither took an exam, nor got any congratulations on passing, nor substituted professional garb for my old jeans and the thick wool sweaters that I knitted for myself on the run. But I did do other things that might have contributed, in at least a tangential way, to the triumph of my young and promising husband. While he memorized his laws and statutes locked in a room and wearing earplugs, isolated from everyday routines, I gestated, delivered, and brought up his two kids, and devoted myself night and day to making sure they didnât interrupt his much-needed quiet with their crying and childish protests. My life wore on, glued to a stroller carrying one baby while another baby was forming inside of me, through endless miles and hours seated on cold stone park benches. Later it was two boys that I led by the hand with their minute steps, picking them up from the ground when they fell, wiping their tears and noses, dealing with their cuts and bruises.
While my husband remained isolated in his legal bubble, ignorantof domestic trivialities such as paying the rent and gas bill or buying eggs, chicken, and laundry detergent, I worked. Tutoring students while the kids had their naps or crawled on the floor in between my studentsâ legs; translating medical texts with one hand while with the other I bottle-fed David; typing up indecipherable manuscripts with Pablo stuck to my breast. So that Alberto could study as I would have liked to be able to study myself.
In spite of it all, and with great difficulty, I managed to establish a career. I had no choice, however, other than to put aside my desire of
From then on, his profile began to take shape before me as I directed a more human focus on his life. Everything made more sense now: his letters, his movements, his correspondence. Thus the days rolled by as I proceeded on a firm footingâor so I thoughtâon the straight path toward reconstructing my life. Until an unexpected call at the beginning of October made me stumble. It was Alberto, once more shattering the harmony.
We hadnât spoken to each other since the summer, before I had learned through David of his imminent paternity. In fact, as soon as I found out, it was I who dug in my heels and refused any type of contact whatsoever. I chose to avoid him, knowing that it would be painful to be confronted with the crudeness of the circumstances, like throwing acid on an open wound. Most likely Alberto had also understood and decided not to continue calling in order to spare me further suffering. Or perhaps he didnât understand and simply forgot about me, immersed as he was in his vital new project in arefurbished loft with that young workmate who now was also his life mate.
It seemed a lifetime ago that Alberto and I had struggled so that he could take the examination to join the higher ranks of the civil service. For three grueling years we had made a coordinated effort with the aim of obtaining our objective. When we got married, neither of us had finished college. I was a semester and a half away, and he only had a couple of months to go. At the time we thought it wisest to concentrate our efforts on his professional career. Besides being a year ahead of me in the university, Alberto had a perfectly clear idea of what he wanted to do with his life: prepare for the public service exam as his father and brothers had. My future plans, on the other hand, were vaguer. In fact, they hardly existed. I liked languages, I liked books, I liked traveling. Undefined banalities, in short, with little hope of them soon materializing into some type of productive job that was moderately well paid. So Alberto, whose résumé was inferior to mine, devoted himself to studying. And I, meanwhile, put my humble aspirations aside and made sure our little family got ahead.
The success, naturally, was all his: he had prepared manically for the exam, obtaining his objective on the second round. Meanwhile, I neither took an exam, nor got any congratulations on passing, nor substituted professional garb for my old jeans and the thick wool sweaters that I knitted for myself on the run. But I did do other things that might have contributed, in at least a tangential way, to the triumph of my young and promising husband. While he memorized his laws and statutes locked in a room and wearing earplugs, isolated from everyday routines, I gestated, delivered, and brought up his two kids, and devoted myself night and day to making sure they didnât interrupt his much-needed quiet with their crying and childish protests. My life wore on, glued to a stroller carrying one baby while another baby was forming inside of me, through endless miles and hours seated on cold stone park benches. Later it was two boys that I led by the hand with their minute steps, picking them up from the ground when they fell, wiping their tears and noses, dealing with their cuts and bruises.
While my husband remained isolated in his legal bubble, ignorantof domestic trivialities such as paying the rent and gas bill or buying eggs, chicken, and laundry detergent, I worked. Tutoring students while the kids had their naps or crawled on the floor in between my studentsâ legs; translating medical texts with one hand while with the other I bottle-fed David; typing up indecipherable manuscripts with Pablo stuck to my breast. So that Alberto could study as I would have liked to be able to study myself.
In spite of it all, and with great difficulty, I managed to establish a career. I had no choice, however, other than to put aside my desire of
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