After the Tree of Eden

“What is to happen to you,

is written in the Book

that is leafed through, at random,

by the wind of Eternity”.

Omar Khayyam

The sky turned gray, the birds silenced their song, sounds ceased as a prelude to what was approaching. After several expectant seconds, a light drizzle began to fall. The scent of wet earth from the garden filled the air and the greenish tones gleamed brightly, bursting with life.

Before the open attic window stood a man whose gaze drifted aimlessly through his deepest and most tempestuous memories. A castaway who heard only the weeping of his heart, intertwined with the melancholic musical notes emanating from an old record player.

Brief moments after taking a deep sigh, he picked up a pen, opened the notebook of blank pages he held in his hands and began to write, speaking the words aloud,

“It all began after the Tree of Eden...”

A snow moon shone brightly, the silence of the early morning was broken by the grunts of childbirth, followed by the newborn’s cry. The mother slipped a folded finger into his mouth to quiet him, while the midwife removed the placenta and umbilical cord.

“Another boy,” the woman muttered between her teeth with a grimace. She was giving birth to her fifth child. “This is a curse, I swore to hate them and now they surround me, why doesn’t the girl arrive?”

“This child took some effort to come out. Very different from your other births, Señora Margot.”

“Yes, Esperanza, you’re right.”

“Give me the baby and I’ll take care of him. You go take your bath and try to relax.”

Drenched in sweat, she handed the child to the midwife, who cleaned him and placed him in a cradle near the kitchen fireplace, away from the mother.

“Damn the life I was given!” Margot declared, sinking into the warm, fragrant bath that had been prepared beforehand with oils whose label read: ′Essences that preserve your beauty and youth forever.′

She tied up her reddish hair with a ribbon like a bouquet of flowers, rested her head against the side of the tub, and closed her eyes.

Several years earlier, Margot used to stroll through the town square accompanied by her mother Águeda, who dressed in black, looked like a grackle, never wearing the colorful clothes that the local women customarily wore.

Águeda, at a very young age, she lost her mother. Sickly, she lived submissively, first to her father and then to her husband. She was given in marriage by mutual agreement between the gentlemen. Her father handed her over just after she turned fifteen, in exchange for the promise of doing great business with the outsider Fulgencio, forty years her senior.

During springtime, Fulgencio arrived at the enigmatic town with gold and merchandise from distant lands. He immediately caught the attention of the locals, drawn by the novelty of the products he sold. His appearance and the accent in his speech were very different. He wore his hair, beard, and clothing according to the dictates of a fashion that had not yet reached the region. They opened the doors of their homes to him, and those of the only gentleman’s club in town.

At the foot of an active volcano, with its ever-present fumarole, the small town of Zaya was established. They frequently suffered minor tremors, to the point of going unnoticed. The church towers were the tallest structures rising above the treetops, guardians of good customs. Under a burning sun, the town enjoyed two climates: the jungle and the mountain. For this reason it had exotic vegetation and, even though it was near the coast, Zaya felt slightly cool during winter. An earthly paradise for some, and hell for others. Coffee was grown in the highlands and sugar cane in the lowlands. These plantations were in the hands of the only two wealthy families in the area who, in order not to lose dominance or fragment their landholdings, married among themselves for several generations.

Margot’s maternal grandfather did not see his plans realized, as he died of a sudden heart attack. His death occurred during a heated argument as soon as he learned that, despite having given away his only daughter, he would not see a single cent of Fulgencio’s money.

Sometime later Margot was born, exactly on the day when the earth shook before the volcano’s roar and a hurricane arrived from the coast. The destruction was so severe that the townspeople would never forget what happened.

“She’s a daughter of the volcano and the wind. That reddish hair and those green eyes augur nothing good for us,” the women murmured.

To the child’s misfortune, ten months earlier a young red-haired foreigner had arrived in Zaya. He was a merchant of automatic pistols. His sales were so successful that soon he had no merchandise left, yet he remained in town for several more days.

The foreigner, if he happened to encounter Águeda by chance, would tip his hat and greet her enthusiastically. She would avoid his gaze and not respond. Only once, by accident, did she show a slight smile at the gentleman’s insistent attentions, which caused her serious problems with her husband.

When Fulgencio learned of his wife’s pregnancy, coming so soon after the greeting incident, he delivered several blows to Águeda, even as she insisted,

“I swear nothing happened!”

“Don’t swear, you’re all the same!”

After that lapse, her husband watched her every move, as the years passed, Margot’s as well. Neither of them could move without him being aware of their activities. Every time Fulgencio walked through town in the company of his red-haired daughter, the men would exchange glances with each other, wearing slight smiles.

Time passed and the girl grew in beauty. She had barely entered puberty when Fulgencio abruptly pulled her out of school, saying,

“She’s learned to read and write, as a woman she doesn’t need to know more.”

A few days earlier, Margot had been accompanying her father in the store when they saw the young schoolteacher walk in. He removed his hat and with a slight bow greeted them,

“Don Fulgencio, good afternoon to you.”

“Good afternoon, teacher. Tell me, is there some article that interests you?”

“Well, you see, yes and no.”

Fulgencio furrowed his brow, remained silent, and his gaze darkened.

“Look, don Fulgencio, the reason I’m here is... your daughter. I would like to ask for her hand and that you grant me permission to marry her.”

Margot turned toward her father and before his harsh stare, kept silent. Fulgencio left the suitor in suspense for a few seconds. He clenched his fists and declared,

“Look, teacher, the article you want is not available. Know this: I will only consent to give my daughter’s hand to someone who proves to possess a solid fortune. Margot is destined for high places. So stop your dreaming, leave, and don’t bother me again with this matter,” he declared, gesturing with his hand for him to leave.

“I promise you I will amass a great fortune and return for your daughter, you can be certain of that.”

Fulgencio, without taking his eyes off him, searched for something with his hand beneath the counter.

“Look teacher, that’s pure hot air, and listen to me, if I see you near my daughter with any dark intentions, you’ll face the consequences!” he said, brusquely placing a bullet on the counter. “Did you hear me? Now get out of here, I don’t have time for your foolishness.” Red-faced, he stood up and pointed toward the exit with his forefinger.

“All right, I’m leaving! You’ll see, I’ll return rich, for I’m a man of my word.” He put on his hat and made a small bow to Margot before leaving the store, upright and with firm steps.

Fulgencio turned to Margot and, without further ado, delivered two slaps to her face.

“I didn’t know anything!” she responded, caressing her cheeks.

“I don’t believe you! Do you think I’m that much of an idiot? Let this be clear once and for all, I forbid you to tell your mother or anyone else what happened. Understood?” He threatened a third blow with his raised hand.

“Yes, no one will know,” she answered without any expression.

Margot stopped attending school, but despite the surveillance over his beloved, the teacher managed to get a small envelope to her. She hid the missive immediately upon receiving it.

In her bedroom that night, she lit her oil lamp, took out the tiny letter and opened it. It contained a small portrait of her teacher in sepia tones and a brief message written in flourishing calligraphy, each letter displaying its attributes and together tracing a dance.

She devoured those few words, reading them over and over. Unhurried, she scrutinized her teacher’s face. She hid it and extinguished the lamp. It was the first time she had received a letter and a portrait meant for her alone. In that darkness where no one could see her, she smiled.

Weeks passed then months that eventually became years, without any further word of the teacher. During that time in the Ysora household, Fulgencio punished Margot for any reason whatsoever. The more he punished her, the more rebellious and surly she became; the opposite of Águeda. Father and daughter maintained a constant battle.

To be continued...

See you on Sunday afternoon with more of this enigmatic tale.