PARTIES 1
For two weeks, after receiving the salary, Martín returns to Nezahualcóyotl with the same expression as before.
I worked in a packaging facility in Iztapalapa, about 10 hours before the old machine milieu, in the smell of browned plastic and under the cries of a supervisor who shouted as if the life of him was two.
But there’s more worry, there’s no more work.
His suffisait to return that he and to give credit cards to his woman, Maribel.
Ce soir-là, il jeta son sac à dos à côté du vieux fauteuil et sortit son portefeuille.
« Tenez », he said while placing the billet on the table. « Mais donnez-moi au moins 300 pesos. C’est l’anniversaire de Chuy, et tout le monde va bière de la bière. »
Maribel is sitting with a paycheck on the line, a calculator and more notes.
Il n’a même pas élevé la voix.
—Je ne peux pas, Martín. Electricity, water and loyer bills are all delayed. I can give you 30 for the bus and 20 for the phone.
Martin rit amèrement.
—50 pesos? Sérieusement ? I’ll tell you all the time, and you’ll give me silver like you’re a lycéen.
The locks the stylus between them.
-Ce n’est pas ça.
—Oui, c’est ça. You decide everything. Vous gardez ma carte. Vous payez. You will find out. And for me, there remains, the air of an idiot, incapable of giving me a pair of correct baskets.
Maribel baissa les yeux.
The étaient mariés for 10 years and nursery for 5 years in this small, humid house, with a toit en tôle à l’arrière et a mur qui s’écaillait à choque fois qui’il pleuvait.
Martin hates this house.
The hate speech is also ridiculed by some of his colleagues.
—Encore cassé, mon pote?
—Ta mère te surveille vraiment beaucoup.
—Même la mienne ne me surveillait pas autant.
The rite to never be contrary, but a terrible color assembled in him.
Maribel n’achetait jamais rien pour elle-même.
I have no further intention to go to the hairdresser.
I don’t wear new clothes.
Il n’a pas demandé à manger.
If Martin wants tacos, prepare white haricots with tomato sauce.
If you want to go to the cinema, you’ll find it best to watch a film on television.
If you need silver for a barbecue, you will find:
—Cela couvre la moitié de la facture de gaz.
At the same time, Martín commented on the fact that he chose what he did.
I thought Maribel would secretly send the silver to her family in Puebla. Come on, what are you waiting for cached economies that you want to leave for a day.
The goutte d’eau qui a fait déborder le vase, c’était leur anniversary de mariage.
Martin returns late, tired and depleted of humour, hoping to find the right answer.
More foundations are étaient posées.
You’ll have some roti soup, some macaroni soup, some hot tortillas, some soda with pommes and even a small flan.
Maribel carries a simple red dress, the same as she carries her own sort of ensemble and wears it main in the main street of the Alameda.
« Joyeux anniversaire, Martin», dit-elle en souriant nervoususement.
Il n’a pas souri.
—And have you bought it with that silver?
Maribel is figée.
Before you can answer, the portable phone vibrates on the table.
Martin returned to read the message.
« Madame Maribel, nous signerons demain. Bring balance. — Ernesto »
Martin’s face was harsh.
«Ernest? » demanda-t-elle, la voix brisée par la colère. « Qui diable est Ernesto ? »
Maribel pâlit.
—Martin, waits…
But I’ll never wait until I’m a portable phone.
— Ça fait five ans qu’ils prennent mon argent et le donnent à un autre salaud !
Maribel opened a roll, in sortit a yellow envelope and his tendit of a trembling main.
—Tout d’abord, ouvrez chickpeas.
Martin regards the envelope as if it were being shaken by a bomb.
And let’s hear the noise, let’s hear the air get blocked in the air.
PARTIES 2
Il n’y avait pas de love letters in the envelope.
Il n’y avait pas de photos.
Il n’y avait aucune preuve de trahison.
The documents are authenticated by a notary upon presentation.
Martin arracha la première feuille de papier de ses mains crispées, breathing encore bruyamment like a taureau en cage.
Il a lu le titre.
« Contract of wind. »
After all, the vitamin is nom.
Martín Hernández López.
Et à côté, le sien.
Maribel Cruz Hernandez.
Then direct it to him.
A terrain of 120 mètres carrés in Tecámac, au Mexico.
Martin cligna des yeux.
The le relut.
La feuille semblait se moquer de sa colère.
«Qu’est-ce que c’est? » murmura-t-il.
Maribel wears a lapel on the back of the main.
—Ceci est notre terre.
Il n’a pas répondu.
Don’t go where you want to go, just because you’ll hear it, you’ll never get back to it.
Maribel opens another piece of paper in the envelope.
The plan is simple.
A small house with 2 bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, a service terrace and a small front garden.
In one coin, this is written in blue stylus:
« De la place pour les bougainvillées. »
Martin swallowed difficultly.
Lorsqu’ils sortient ensemble, il disait toujours qu’un jour il aurait une maison avec un bougainvillier devant la porte d’entrée, comme la maison de sa grand-mère à Oaxaca.
Je plaisantais.
The word hides the same thing as the collection of silver to pay the totality of the guest of the room in which he or she occupies.
Maribel isn’t even moquée de ce rêve.
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