My dear son, what a surprise to receive your message with so much news, even if your mother would have preferred it if you’d called to tell her on the telephone. You know of course that your mother isn’t one of those melodramatic mothers, but would it have killed you to call her on Christmas Eve? Believe your mother when she tells you your call would have made that night a little less dreadful, mostly because your mother had to put up with the unpleasantness of going for dinner at your aunt Concha’s house. Yes, I know what you must be thinking, why did your mother go only to complain about it afterward, but you know what your father’s like, your uncle called him to invite us over and he didn’t have the nerve to say no, which is a shame, and then he came to your mother with a whole story about how the family has got to stick together now more than ever. As if your cousin’s death erased all the rudeness and the mean remarks your aunt has made to your mother in the past! Remember that time she got up in the middle of dinner to prepare a sauce because she said your mother had dried out the turkey? Your mother remembers. It was a recipe from Provence and your aunt chucked a guajillo chili salsa on top of it. These are the sort of details, my son, that reveal differences of birth very clearly.
And to top it all your father was giving your mother a really tough time with emotional blackmail. Imagine if it’d been Juan, he said to your mother, with a face like a little puppy who’s just been run over (do forgive your mother for the simile, but you as a literature student know better than anyone how important it is to be precise when using language). Imagine Juan had died, your father said to your mother. Your father is truly incorrigible. If you were dead the last thing your mother would want would be to have your aunt sitting in her dining room waiting for your mother to serve her dinner. But your mother told your father such a thing would never happen to you, for starters because right from when you were little you and your sister learned that you cross over the bridges and not under them, that’s the one useful thing you learn from having been born in that ghastly town in Los Altos.
Would it have been so hard for you to call, son, your father wanted to wait till eight o’clock that evening to see if you did, your mother said you weren’t going to, that in Europe it was already three in the morning, but your father doesn’t understand that whole business with the time zones. Finally he resigned himself to the idea and took the two bottles of cider out the fridge that he’d bought to take to the dinner and which your father knows perfectly well gives your mother heartburn. Your father was so hurt, Juan, write your father when you can, or better still, call him, make up some complicated excuse to explain why you didn’t call, make some use of all those books you’ve read, make something up for him, your father will swallow anything. The other day your father must have spent a good half an hour staring intently at the living-room window, without saying or doing anything, and when your mother asked what he was looking at, do you know what he answered? That the winter light was captivating him. The light was captivating him! Honestly, your father does drive your poor mother up the wall. If he’d spent that half-hour in his office instead of stuck at home, he’d have seen three or four patients.
But your mother isn’t writing to tell you about the problems with your father, you know of course she’s not that kind of mother, your mother’s writing to tell you your news was the best Christmas present she could possibly have received! Oh, how happy you’ve made her, my son! If only you’d told your mother before the dinner she could have told the whole family that you’ve gotten yourself a European girlfriend now. Your mother would have loved to have seen the looks on your cousins’ faces, and on your aunt Concha’s face!, your mother had to settle for imagining it when she phoned to tell her the news after receiving your message. You should have seen the silence, son, after your mother made the announcement, and please note it was quite without boasting: Concha, I’m calling to tell you two things. First, Juan Pablo and Valentina have broken up. And second, my son now has a Catalan girlfriend from a pedigreed European family. Your mother could practically hear the maid mopping the floor under your aunt’s feet.
Son, your mother knows it’s not good to flog a dead horse, but in this case your mother thinks it’s important you realize your mother always knew Valentina wasn’t a suitable choice. If your mother is only telling you this now, son, it’s not meant to be a reproach, not at all, your mother could never do such a thing, your mother isn’t that kind of mother, but rather your mother’s saying it in order to congratulate you. How good that you’ve reconsidered, Juan, this Valentina who was so short, and named after that salsa brand, those sad little eyes and that hair flattened down like an Indian girl, poor thing, truth is it’s not her fault, what with that family who’ve only just come down from La Huasteca. But your mother can’t worry about her, after all our family isn’t a charitable institution for going around gathering up poor little girls and giving them opportunities in life. Your mother will leave that to the Veracruz government. Your mother only has enough heart and energy left to worry about your future, son, and that is why your mother is so pleased.
Your mother won’t hide the fact that besides being pleased she’s also relieved, your mother has always worried about your character, that tendency you have just to bow your head and obey orders, you’ve taken after your father’s family in that. All exactly the same. All so rebellious in Los Altos, only to turn out utterly weak-willed. Please don’t be annoyed, son, your mother’s telling you the truth, don’t let your mother’s honesty cloud your good sense. You were the one who gave your mother plenty of reasons to be distraught, with all those wrong decisions you kept making, studying a subject with no future, going to live in an underdeveloped city, falling in love out of pity, your mother knows you know perfectly well what she’s talking about. All these things somebody who doesn’t know you the way your mother does might think were signs of rebelliousness, a person with a strong character who knows what he wants out of life, but in reality they were just the opposite, tantrums to disguise your lack of self-confidence. When you were just a boy, the thing that most tormented your mother was exactly that, you not having the confidence to defend yourself, whether it was from your sister, who even though she was younger than you was constantly humiliating you, your schoolmates who made your life impossible (remember when they used to make you cry and you didn’t want to come out from under my skirt?), or your cousins, who’ve been savages ever since they were small.
And to see you now! With a European girlfriend! And very beautiful from what I can see in the photo (though your mother asks you to send another photo where I can see her from closer up, because in the one you sent Laia’s smile is a bit funny).
You mother has to admit that until very recently, until you told her you were going to study in Europe, the uncertainty about your future prevented her from living. The truth is, your mother was wrong. But how was your mother to know that behind all those mistakes there was a plan, a proper life project? You must acknowledge that your mother had plenty of reasons to be heartbroken. Your mother was already imagining you giving Spanish classes at a public high school in Pachuca or a private one in Guadalajara (where all the students would have laughed at you), married to poor little Valentina for whom living in a two-room apartment with drinking water and electricity was moving up in the world. But your mother was wrong and your mother has no problem admitting this, what matters isn’t how proud your mother is, what matters is your future. Your mother is so very proud that that scared little runt who wet his bed until he was eleven has become a successful adult living in Europe.
If only you’d told your mother before dinner, it would have been the happiest Christmas of her life! Instead, your mother had to put up with your aunt Concha, who’s so selfish she won’t let anybody talk about anything but the string of misfortunes that’s befallen them since your cousin died. As if it hadn’t been two months already. I told her it was time to start getting over it. But there’s no way to make your aunt listen, the only thing she’s interested in is unburdening herself about the aforementioned foundation they’re allegedly setting up, the foundation in your cousin’s memory, an institute to teach people to cross roads, I did tell you about that, didn’t I? We spent the night looking at logos for the foundation, your aunt wanted us to vote on which was the best, and they were all horrible, they were designed by your cousin Humberto who hasn’t even completed his degree (or has he?), all just to save a thousand pesos, how much do you think people charge to design a logo? You can imagine what the foundation’s going to be like if they want to do the whole thing by calling in favors. Your mother found your cousins in a corner roaring with laughter at a logo that they hadn’t shown your aunt and uncle. It was a photo of somebody run over which they’d stuck your cousin’s face on and underneath it said: The Ed Krusher Foundation. Honestly, your cousins are simply savages.
By the way, before your mother forgets, let your mother tell you that your aunt said that her maid told her that your cousin had sent you a letter to Barcelona before he died, that he’d asked the maid to take it to the post office. Is that true? Your mother told your aunt that surely the maid was making it up, you know how it is with these people having these fantasies and hallucinations from the hunger. Besides, nobody sends letters, they’re from a different time. And that he supposedly also sent a letter to Valentina. Your mother found all this extremely peculiar. Did your cousin know Valentina? Your aunt kept rattling on to your mother about how these letters showed how close you and Lorenzo were and she even decided to embrace your mother and start crying on her shoulder. You can’t imagine what that moment was like, son, your mother had no idea how to wriggle out of it.
Well anyway, son, your mother is telling you this because, in case it does happen to be true, you should be careful now you and Valentina have broken up, who knows what it was your cousin wrote, if he really did write her, you know what a liar your cousin was and also how jealous. You didn’t notice because you were always very naive and very trusting.
But your mother isn’t writing to talk about your poor cousin, may he rest in peace, or about your aunt’s snootiness or the tales the maid is telling. What your mother wanted to tell you was how happy your message made her, and that she’ll be anxiously waiting for you to send her another picture of Laia so she can get to know her better. Tell your mother more about her, her family, her character, what her father does. It’s quite clear from the photo, even though it’s from kind of far away, that she’s from a good family, your mother doesn’t need a close-up to be able to tell that, you can make these things out from a distance. Sorry to ask, but was Laia chewing something in the photo or what’s she got in her mouth that looks slightly twisted? A piece of chewing-gum? Send your mother a portrait shot of her face, don’t take too long about it, don’t make your mother wait too many days, you know the curiosity sends her sugar levels sky-high.
Moving on to other subjects, less pleasant ones, your mother doesn’t know if you’ve spoken to your sister or if you’ve been writing to each other. Your mother is telling you this in case you don’t already know. Well it turns out she’s gotten it into her head that they’re underestimating her at the firm and that, if they don’t give her a raise and better benefits, she’s going to quit. Write your sister when you can and tell her to stop this nonsense, if she ends up without a job then what will she do, your sister needs to be aware of her limitations, it’s not nice for your mother to be saying this, but your sister wasn’t born for great things. Your mother doesn’t want your sister stuck in the house all blessed day, your mother has enough of her own troubles to worry about already.
Ah, no, my son, your mother’s ended up writing another long message but you have to understand how excited she is, it’s not every day a mother learns that at last her son has set his life on the correct path. So your mother will leave you now, son, since you must be really busy. Your mother sends you a big hug and reminds you not to forget to send her the picture of Laia.
A picture of her face, please, for your mother who misses you.