A short story:


INVITATION

The letter arrives in a wood colored envelope, with a rose smell and promises of a perfect festivity. It is my first celebration. One by one the aunts come to advise me about dresses, and options of food I could bring. We review the songs for the main rites, how to dance moving the hips, how to shout to the air, and when to be completely quiet. There were some women crying because of their remembrances, “youth nostalgia they said. The spring was already melting into summer, and the earth smell was intense.
Only aunt Amalia did not come to see me; when I told her about my fortune, she answered, with a tight mouth, that it was not so much at all. Nobody can accept such an obscure warnings on celebrations days, so I ignored her, and also almost all advice that the other matrons gave me. I just kept the confidence that I would find them over there to direct me, and also the certainty that everybody must have fun.
The day we were waiting for finally arrives. I_m dressed like a novice, with a light veil covering my head, and a large dress down to my foot. I really like my clothing, however sometimes I cannot avoid tripping on the skirt. Walking to the celebration I find some friends. As they see me they smile to themselves and, trembling, take may hand. We hurry. We approach the place murmuring hopes and the recipes we tried to cook for tonight; many of them attempt to find out how many new plates the other women are bringing
.
- - -
Three days later I returned homewith the others in a wrinkly dress, and wet hair sliding down my back; with a smile on my face, but serious eyes, new ones, opened to all they can see. I felt different until I received my father_s quiet, far away and hidden look. I ask myself if it is the same for all the girls every year, but I did not dare to speak about forbidden topics, never out of the allowed month and zone.
Times goes without mark in my hands; one day I found myself married, with children, and a red clay house with tapestries on the walls, and an impeccable chimney. Some girls I’d known moved to distant towns, other girls came to ours. Today arrives the invitation for the holidays again. This year there will not be any beginning in the celebration, in this way for many of us it will be our first time. We approach in the sunny day, dressing with brilliants colors, embracing and smiling in the meeting with all the woman of the country. When we get to the tideland, sheltered by the biggest shrubs, the feast begins. The rites take place like this every year with the certainty of the words.
I find her smiling to me during the wine distribution. I have not very often seen there such a pleasant woman, and in the course of the dance around the bonfire, the flower coronations and the first canticle, we start to talk about our families and husbands. And by the appearance we become friends. At the moment of dividing the food she promises me that we will be forever sisters. I think she is a little bit drunk, but I agree with my arms covered with lemon blossom. The oldest women applaud at our alliance.
At the end, when just a few girls are left sleeping in the grass, she asks me to stay with her. The sun was rising, and my husband was waiting for me at house, the punishment could be enormous, so I refuse with a smile. She turns back very angry and gets into the estuary. To calm down my annoyance, I try to think that I will not meet her until next year, and by then her anger will disappear. Yet, when I arrive home with a rejuvenated soul and the festivity’s secrets inside me, I find her in my living room. My husband does not say a word; just grumbles an objection and gets back to bed.
All morning I have tried to convince her to go away, but she cried, and reminded me how she dared to come out of her confinement, giving up everything to experience something new; that she has left her husband, parents and children, a renovated heritage of abandonment. How can I take her back? Where to? Who else could understand her surfeit, her wish to live another kind of life?

- - -
The days go by and her presence floods the house. Now we are a complete family, as she says. We cook together, we plan our trips together, amuse my husband together. She sleeps in the sitting room, but the nights are not the same anymore. The houses style has changed, and she did not ask me if she could take the children out. My husband says in the streets that he has two women. I do not want to hear it. I do not want to feel anything, just wait until she understands me, takes her things and goes away. Yet, to think of my house without her frightens me; being without company causes me anguish. However, my hints do not work, neither my requests nor the screaming of the last days. She has come here to keep my whole life behind my husband, my house or my kids.

- - -
One year later, the invitation for the festivity arrives. In my confinement of embarrassment and anger I receive the envelope with mossy odor without any expectation. I go back to my chair; there I wait the appointed date.

- - -
She came and took me to fulfill the rite; we went out and I could not say goodbye to this unknown house. Embraced with her I came back to the tideland, to the place we met for the first time. Aunt Amalia frowns at me a far away hello. All was wrong from the beginning, I think; in my present condition I do not know what I want or where am I going. I greet the women I do not know and kiss the aunts. We give each other the usual congratulations, wishes of good life and fertility.
A sad music sounds at bottom, and we spin the first of a lot of dances. We embrace each other. I pinch to one and to other mate. I touch their skins and they caress my hair. There is no happiness in my eyes, but the aunts push, direct, and turn on our flames. At the moment of dividing the desserts I find a happy young girl. She smiles at me. And when we see each other I feel she can show me the new way; I tell her about my kids and my husband’s face; she speaks, with excitement, of her new chimney that has already been built in her house, in front of a woodland, with ravens watching the whole family. I feel the life returning to my body and we laugh just to see us, because we are already friends, forever, she has promised, and I believe her.

- - -
At the third night everyone returns to the place they belong. Aunt Amalia walks through the south part of the estuary, to my birth town, and sends me a goodbye look. I stay with my new sister, we have everything ready, I cannot wait to meet her town where a man, some children and an unknown house sleep dreaming of my encounter.

Merari Fierro escritora