One Out of Two Read Online Free Page A

get my hopes up too high.”
    Stubborn as a mule—a hypocrite and a fool—she kept sewing, not paying any attention to the irate protestations of the loser. That same sentence, “You’re right …” et cetera: repeated over and over, as if it were the only thought in her head. And dawn broke and the other—the roles reversed: therefore—expressed her rage till she had nothing left but regret: while Constitución was, as it were, borne aloft by longing: the taste of dripping honey, the slow probing, or the words whispered into her ear by the man of her dreams. Scents and lingering gazes! Sinking gently. Kissing.
    In the wake of her foolish outburst, Gloria turned tender. She couldn’t figure out how to look good in the far-gone eyes of her sister, who kept pounding away at the pedal: if she docilely repeated that same meek and innocent sentence, it’s because she didn’t want to gloat over her triumph, which also explains the extent of her conscious restraint.
    “Forgive me, sister dearest … I do wish you all the best: I want you to have the most wonderful time ever. I know that all your pleasures and rejoicings will also be mine.”
    Herewith a scene of relative closure, each with her own notions looking for subterfuges, paths that would lead them to the core of their own pet daydream, or to a false principle, wherever the power of suggestion reigns.
    The interim. Working like rodents, for it was silence that held sway.
    All the while, customers came and left, gracious and grateful, like an apocryphal procession of manikins and marionettes. The shop: the setting, and the sisters, each in her own way, pondering separations as well as surprising alliances. About the wedding: say no more; about the toss of the coin: not that either; about luck: maybe … Throughout these fateful days: they ate, they worked very hard in complete silence. Words: only those that were absolutely essential. There was one sentence—at night: just before bed, here’s what Gloria said:
    “I hope you come back with good news; I’m going to sleep peacefully, for what is yours is mine, as you well know.”
    Full stop, next scene, the day of reckoning.
    Constitución left. Her sister stood at the door to the shop and raised her hand to bid farewell. There is always a first time. Always a tearing, loose threads dangling … But Gloria remained stubborn:
    “Have a great time and say hi to everybody for me, I hope you bring back—”
    She didn’t finish because her sister quickly placed distance between them: such a small and indifferent figure she made. Only an indistinct echo remained in the air. Then: intimacy as an idea that unravels.
    Here, her equal, the part that didn’t go: no tears or futile stratagems, no mannerisms, only the closing of ranks and strong convictions. And a quick return to take a look around the work space: a concrete desert filled with squalor and lacking air. Nascent longing and the word absence seeping into the sewing machines.
    Chin up! for it’s ten o’clock in the morning and a work-day, and no matter what, the customers keep placing more orders, paying down a deposit or the whole amount up front.
    The unfilled orders. So much to do, and along came someone who asked the inevitable, “Where’s your sister?” and the response was necessarily friendly though laced with a certain trace of evasiveness. Many other such questions ensued, which she answered between clenched teeth. The barrage of interrogations let up only in the afternoon when Gloria closed the door and continued pedaling till midnight. Alone, self-contained, restrained.
    The action started just as her fatigue set in, at bedtime. She imagined the shindig, the enveloping music, and her sister sitting on a chair, alone, silent, a woodpecker perched on a branch, a toy bird, poised and waiting for a polite man of reasonable height to ask her to dance, but not even the midgets bothered. Lying in bed, Gloria conjured that sad scene, suffered in her own