The meanings, the feelings …
No.
Not a significant word passed between them. Constitución noticed a certain amount of envy being suppressed with great effort by she who had been, till then, her mirror. Envy? she thought, though maybe not: for there were no dramatic outpourings or angry pleas. So, what was going on? Throughout the meal, only the clinking of cutlery and a masquerade of good manners, no furtive glances sneaking out of the corner of an eye … Specifically, prudence held sway: stilclass="underline" she who had won had no choice but to keep a lid on it, think things through carefully. Gloria was the first to finish and, without even saying “excuse me,” made quickly off to the bedroom. Such childish antics notwithstanding, the moment to clear the air had still not arrived, and, what else could the other do!: she chose to wait: whatever would be, would be, if, that is, it could be …
A tragedy or a joke?
What follows is as limpid as the light of day. Gloria went to bed: irresponsible. She who had always been so very obliging — in other words, a robot who sewed — was not that way today, not at all. Maybe sleep would spur her on the next day, but for now she willingly turned the reins of the shop over to her sister, who went straight there, leaving the issues they’d avoided all day to be broached after dark. There in the shop she could spin her own threads of action; in the meantime, she told herself: “I know, she’s suffering, but I’d rather talk to her when she’s more relaxed.”
Constitución, all alone and with the shop door closed, stayed late elaborating shapes, but only of thought; she didn’t work, either, not knowing for sure what she should do: merrily set about sewing as usual, and if so, what stitch should she use?: and how?; apply her scissors to an idea or the fabric itself?: such foolproof opposites, so which way to turn?: toward the vanity of having been chosen by a man who was, at least, well scrubbed, or toward the marvel or misfortune of that unavoidable likeness, her sister?: mirror, shadow, paradox, or diabolical curse; if she was fundamentally an obstacle … She made as if to do so — there was a lot of work — then stopped. Better for now to focus on the ordering of reality, one more day without stitching wouldn’t provoke a sudden plunge, though … An idea crossed her mind that had come to seem more and more plausible over the past three months or so.
This was it: to let her hair grow so she could tease it into a beehive; and to wear different clothes than Gloria: garments that would reveal that enormous beauty mark above her right shoulder blade. Yes, so Oscar would see it right off the bat. Wear dark glasses and a darker shade of lipstick, or pencil her eyebrows, or …
Turning it over: her thoughts churning, and right around midnight, just as she was about to reach a decision, that is: go to her sister to explain her resolve, a doubt suddenly appeared. The fact was, the two of them had been entwined since they were inside their mother’s belly, and they had worked so hard to live life simply, as two peas in a pod. Two halves that had always been a single seed, a single pureness, and a single path. No, they couldn’t separate, and a change at this stage, what would that entail? Constitución had to immediately repent, even feel ashamed. She couldn’t bear for the other to suffer.
Detour — and an affirmation — back to feelings of sameness. Place herself on the other side of the mirror and from there understand, feel what the loser is now feeling. Better like this. As if some demon had sent her an urgent message from a primordial cave to make her mend her ways. How very amenable of him. And then there appeared, it had to appear, a pleasant temptation, the idea of sharing what she had with so much pluck acquired, then accepting the consequences. Once and for all, and just because, may the miracle fully embrace them both.
She bolted out of the shop. First, she put the padlock on the door, though she forgot to switch off all the lights. She didn’t realize this lapse would raise suspicions, for instance, like about how maybe those gals were so swamped with work that twenty-four hours weren’t enough; how they’ll go blind, even hunchbacked from sitting such long hours and focusing on all those knotty threads. Possible, but at that time of night, the lights were on at their house as well. What for?
So much light and sadness. Light! in a different sense: unanticipated luck. Constitución came bearing good news while the other was playing with beans — dry beans, even a little shriveled around the edges, just so you don’t picture a mushy mess — killing idle hours and also reenacting them: according to her bitter understanding, her hands on the tablecloth: a bit disconcerted, no, very much so, because to tell the truth, sleepless Gloria was thinking about things related to separation, and if she shed a tear, it shined brightly then fell. Her fervor burned inwardly, but the winning twin, no matter how delectable she now felt herself to be, could not fail to notice the situation: her equal’s sorry posture, hence the moment for:
“I thought you’d be asleep, you don’t usually busy yourself with beans at this time of night. Well … I know what’s bothering you, but I have a solution that’ll cheer you up …”
And she spelled out the plan she had cooked up only a few minutes before, in short: “share the man,” easy enough to say but the game would have to be played with strict rules that would, well … Consequences — what about them? Back to basics, which seen from the outside seemed ridiculous, that is, “emotional.” The so-called lucky one summed up by proclaiming:
“You know that there’s something mysterious that connects us and can’t be broken. If God made us identical, it must have been for a good reason.”
“But you—”
“There are no sensible buts about it, the only thing to say is that what’s mine is yours and that’s all there is to it.”
The other one’s face lit up.
Gloria! She, her very own self! She also made for love, for gripping sensual pastimes … and excess! And sighs! Everything she’d never hoped for, because: she’d already descried the rupture as she moved the beans around: what a paradox. And they embraced, just like that, as if by embracing they could merge into a single solitary spirit. It was time for a toast.
So: they took out the bottle of Club 45, full of enough booze to get them both quite tipsy.
Cheers! they said, and toasted to their good fortune, to perennial sisterhood, and yes: to be as they were, reluctantly submitting to but nonetheless taking a stand against love’s conventions, against the relativity of the flesh, both of theirs, their parallel excitement, so that by clinking their glasses together they were marking the beginning of an enterprise that might very well compensate them for all their sorrows. And they played their records and danced with winged steps, and after they’d gotten thoroughly soused — gulp! — they discussed the precautions they would take, and between gales of laughter, they proposed guidelines: sustainable or not: but festive nonetheless, for tomorrow there’d be time for revisions.
In the meantime, wear beautiful dresses made with all the art their hands could muster. Not for anything in the whole wide world allow Oscar Segura, confident and enamored, to tempt them with pretty words, subtly, to shed their sexual modesty, not because the prospect of such delights disgusted them — not on your life! — but only to prevent rash actions of any kind, for therein lay the risk: if they undressed, he’d discover the birthmark that distinguished them. By the same token, they wouldn’t be able to wear see-through clothes, or clothes for hot spells that leave the thighs and shoulders exposed, for that would cause insoluble problems. Most importantly, they would both go by the name “Constitución,” so imagine the likeness; the same hairdo, the same tone of voice, to a highly nuanced degree, the same sweetness, intentionally, similar facial expressions and reactions — this, of course, not something they needed to rehearse — and as for what was discussed, they would tell each other immediately, almost word for word, so as to avoid blunders that would make Oscar suspect that he was dealing with two rather than one: an ideal one: the one and only apple of his eye.