Two other doctors were at Raúl’s house; when I arrived they were carrying on an animated conversation. Raúl introduced me; they were Dr. Salazar and Dr. Moreno, the fathers of two other students who had been arrested. All three men seemed anxious and were drinking whiskey; Rosita looked improved, though her gaze was unfocused, as if lost. Dr. Salazar told me he knew Pericles and Clemen, and he expressed his regrets, but he said it seemed the general had made a point of having at least one member of every family behind bars. I asked after the boys. Raúl told me they were being held at the Black Palace, but the director, Colonel Monterrosa, had given assurances to the board of the Salvadoran Medical Association that they would not be mistreated and that normal due process would be followed, though he warned that because they had violated the provisions of the state of siege, the students could remain detained for as long as the authorities deemed necessary. Dr. Moreno explained that the general hopes the Salvadoran Medical Association will lose heart and therefore cease to appeal for clemency for Dr. Romero, whom he plans to put in front of a firing squad as soon as his injuries heal. Raúl told me they have already organized a team of lawyers from the same university to defend the students, and they have received authorization to visit them tomorrow morning. Rosita cried out passionately that the only thing she wanted was to see her son, touch him, have absolute proof that they haven’t done anything terrible to him. That is what we all wish for most, I told her. I then told the doctors about the difficulties we are having visiting our family members at the Central Prison, the ways we are working together to demand visiting rights, and the threatening and harsh responses we’ve gotten from the general, including all the ladies in the committee being under police surveillance. I wished them luck getting in to see their sons tomorrow and said it would be good in any case to support each other, combine our efforts, which — as they must surely already know — have the support of the American ambassador. Dr. Moreno said certainly, we could count on them, tonight they would speak to their wives and would have them get in touch with me and Rosita; Dr. Salazar agreed. Then, after discussing the reports of Dr. Romero’s health, they threw back their whiskeys and left. “Who would ever have guessed we would find ourselves in such a situation,” Raúl said as he saw me to the door; Rosita broke out in tears.
How strange this sensation of being an experienced veteran in the face of my neighbors’ anguish and grief; I know it is sinful to feel superior, but I can’t help it. Even stranger is this hint of pleasure at others’ pain that puts us all in the same boat, a dreadful emotion I should never allow in my heart.
Thanks to my nap in the afternoon, the discomfort of my period has lessened and I can sit and write in this diary. I was missing Pericles so much a short while ago, I opened his wardrobe to make sure Betito had put his black tie back in its place: there it was, hung up perfectly. A few moments later I found myself touching and smelling his suits, his guayaberas, his underwear. My poor husband must be in a sorry state indeed.
(11:30 at night)
I haven’t been able to sleep. I got into bed and soon found myself in the grips of great uneasiness, a horrible foreboding, as if something very terrible were happening to Clemen. I am riddled with fear so intense I had no choice but to get up and start writing. God willing, I am wrong, and my Clemen is not suffering; God willing this is merely a panic attack, the fruit of my imagination. I will find solace in praying for my son.
Thursday April 20
We human beings are bound together with invisible ropes. It was one in the afternoon when Mila phoned; I feared the worst, that my forebodings had come to pass and news of Clemen’s demise would reach me from the mouth of this treacherous woman. But no, she called to tell me — again, excited and tipsy, according to what I deduced from her tone of voice — that she hasn’t a penny to feed the children, they eat thanks to help from her parents, all because of Clemen’s irresponsibility, she has no idea how she will pay the rent on the house at the beginning of next month, most likely she will move out and go to live with her parents, because the general will never pardon Clemen and if he’s caught he’s a dead man. She said all this with such malice, as if she really didn’t care, or even that deep down this is what she is hoping for. I was outraged, but all I said was that she could bring my grandchildren to the house any time she wanted, that unfortunately I have no money to give her because I am in the same situation now that Pericles is in prison, I survive thanks to help from my parents, but these are the circumstances I have been called upon to live and it is no reason to dismantle my home. Then she exclaimed that my case was different, because Pericles might be set free at any moment, but in her case it was like waiting for a dead man, she was not willing to ruin her chances for the future for something so senseless and that’s why she has decided to make a new life for herself, because even if Clemen manages to leave the country, she would never consider going to live abroad. “As if the general were eternal,” I muttered without thinking, quietly, almost as if I were talking to myself. Mila got quiet for a few seconds. At that moment I felt like asking her what her Colonel Castillo had proposed to make her be in such a hurry to get out of her marriage to Clemen, but all I said was that I hoped her decisions were the result of reasoned reflection and not momentary upset, and I hung up. Chelón says the best method for calming the spirit is to try to put oneself in the place of the person who has upset us, attempt to mentally project oneself into the other person and understand his or her attitudes, but I must confess that this is impossible with my daughter-in-law — the more I think about her cowardice and treachery the more furious I become.
I recounted to María Elena my conversation with Mila, just to let off some steam, unburden myself of those injurious feelings. María Elena said that the best thing for me would be to accept that Clemen’s marriage is over, perhaps then it would be easier for me to deal with my relationship with “Señora Mila,” with ironic emphasis on the “señora,” as she said it. I asked her if she knew something I didn’t know, something she had recently heard from Ana. She answered that the love birds see each other every day at noon, the hour of day most convenient for Colonel Castillo, and that Mila returns full of sighs and with her eyes all glassy after each encounter. I asked her not to tell me more, because my blood was beginning to boil again; María Elena speaks about all this with a certain contained delight, as if her words concentrated the scorn of everybody who had always insisted that marrying Mila was my son’s worst misstep. But now that I am alone and thinking about it, now that I see so clearly how irreparable that marriage is, I tell myself that María Elena is right, I must find a way to let Mila know I am aware of her relationship with Colonel Castillo, because what infuriates me is that she thinks I am some kind of idiot, and for the future of my grandchildren it is in my interest to force her to lay her cards on the table. The only thing I pray for is that Clemen not find out about this vile treachery until he is safe and sound outside the country, my son is already suffering enough trying to save his own life on the lam, he doesn’t need to carry the additional burden of knowing that his wife is betraying him with the very man who is hunting him down so ferociously.