After several days of rain, the sun illuminated the hills of the town, green and exhausted with lush vegetation. The sticks of the guavas lost their balance due to the weight of the fruits. Early in the morning, Idalia and Leonor came out onto the patio dressed in baggy pants rolled up to the knees.
Barefoot they dodged the big puddles. The cistern was overflowing and the vegetation continued to break down hard. The falls of the soursops and guavas could be heard. Bunches of yellow bananas lit up their vision. The large wicker baskets that had gotten wet were removed from the room and placed on the wheelbarrows. They started by picking up the smashed fruit on the ground and gave them to the dogs. They took down many guavas and, when the baskets were full, they took the wheelbarrows out into the corridor. Above the fruits they placed a sign: “One guava at one peso, five at three pesos.”
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They sat in the rocking chairs. Idalia clutched her flower purse in her hands. People lined up to buy guavas, they carried backpacks woven with the national colors, plastic bags and pewter pots. The palenqueras arrived with the silver basins and left with them stuffed with guavas to sell in the neighboring towns. There were no more coins in Idalia’s purse. She would walk into the room and put them in a rusty can. At dusk the baskets came in, where only a few leaves remained. The next morning the wheelbarrows were brought out again.
Their faces were relaxed and there was a smile on their lips. There was a school near the sisters’ house. At ten in the morning it was recess time. Some children went to the stores to buy soft drinks, meat pies, oats, tamarind balls, cocadas, sesame balls, while others took advantage of the time to study or had fun playing ball or pilgrimage.
The Torres brothers were orphaned children who had been deaf by their grandmother’s screams. They approached the corridor attracted by the smell of guavas. They clung to the metal grate, staring at the fruit. They wore knee-length overalls and a white short-sleeved shirt with the school crest on the left shoulder. Their shoes were patched and they squeezed their feet. They were dark, with big eyes and long eyelashes.
Idalia rocked placidly as she moved the coins from her purse. He looked at the children, got up and opened the gate for them to enter. He made a sign with his hand for them to take whatever guavas they wanted. The little brothers advanced in shame. They bent down and stirred the guavas. One of them took a very ripe one, opened his mouth and took a big bite. The other sat on the floor next to Leonor with his legs embraced, eating a guava and moving his feet. People came and went with the bags full and gave the brothers more guavas to take home. The school bell was heard. The children got up quickly and took the bags. Idalia patted their heads, gave them her blessing, and said, “With God.” They smiled and thanked him. They walked very fast and entered the school.
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At two in the afternoon the children left the school. They ran down the street, they pushed each other, some fought over the ball and the top. They approached the corridor and asked Idalia to give them guavas. She nodded her head. A group of children came in and took the ones they liked the most. Idalia let them go to the patio to be washed before eating them and then they went home. Idalia and Leonor were still sitting in the rocking chairs. Every moment they entered the room to leave the coins in the can.
Forty days later the rain stopped and the business was over. The tree remained rigid, but guavas were rare. With the money they had obtained, they were able to survive for several months. The grandmother did not lack her milk, sweet breads or rice. In the mornings they would walk around the patio and look up at the sky begging for rain. The days were hot and dry. Before entering the school, the Torres brothers came to the house to say hello. They went to the patio to look at the trees. Idalia and Leonor’s faces reflected concern and sadness. Water was scarce in the town. In the cans were the last pesos with which they bought gallons of water to drink and bathe. The sisters no longer went out into the corridor. They watched the children play from the windows, remembering the days of plenty. In the church the font was dry. On Sundays, the townspeople brought water in a bottle for the priest to bless, and at baptisms they wet the children’s heads with coconut water.
After a while, the Torres brothers emerged in puberty. They had grown so large that they had to lower their heads when entering Idalia’s house. They had developed very marked muscles under the weight of the wheelbarrow as they went to the stream to fetch water. His skin seemed to have been polished with shoe polish and a cotton rag. Her hair was curlier and fuller, and fluff of fine hair hung in her armpits. Their eyebrows were turning into a single row of thick hairs and their voices hadn’t changed, because they didn’t speak. On Sundays they brought several gallons of water to Idalia’s house and left them on the patio. The guava stick every day looked drier, sterile and sadder. When the sisters were in the kitchen or living room, the Torres took the opportunity to water the stick with the urine that came out of his member with the force of a pressure hose.
The children of the village were taught to cry by swallowing their tears, so as not to waste the water. Sugar canes, when chewed, disintegrated into a fine, sweet powder. It was not uncommon to see people with their clothes inside out, making the most of the clean parts before taking them to the stream to wash. The only ones who were happy were the dead because they were not bothered by the worms, which lay dry and toasted. When pregnant women broke water, they collected it in a pot to give to thirsty pigs. The animals lived in constant harmony so as not to get agitated.
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In desperation, people demonstrated in the town square at night. There was a breeze that comforted any living being. They sat on the ground with empty tanks and banners that read: “More respect for the people.” The mayor shouted that the drought was to blame for the lack of drinking water. All the houses had swimming pools. Before that, when it rained, they collected water in deep containers, washed clothes and runners with a brush and soap, bathed the animals, and the women washed their long, greasy hair.
At Idalia’s house, since they had neither the courage nor the strength to protest, they went to sleep from six in the afternoon. They put out the lamps and wrapped themselves from head to toe. They had eaten some white rice with half a fried egg for dinner. “Tomorrow will be another day,” said Leonor.
At five in the morning a downpour broke out, but the sisters were unfazed because they thought it was a hallucination. They kept sleeping. Later they heard insistent knocks on the door. Idalia got up and saw the Torres brothers, drenched. They hugged her and shouted: “Water, water, water!”
Idalia smiled at both the rain and the brothers, who had finally begun to speak.
