TuesdaySiestabyGabrielGarcaMrquez,1962(translatedbyGregoryRabassaandJ.S.Bernstein)Thetrainemergedfromthequiveringtunnelofsandyrocks,begantocrossthesymmetrical,interminablebananaplantations,andtheairbecamehumidandtheycouldntfeeltheseabreezeanymore.Astiflingblastofsmokecameinthecarwindow.Onthenarrowroadparalleltotherailwaytherewereoxcartsloadedwithgreenbunchesofbananas.Beyondtheroad,inuncultivatedspacessetatoddintervalstherewereofficeswithelectricfans,redbrickbuildings,andresidenceswithchairsandlittlewhitetablesontheterracesamongdustypalmtreesandrosebushes.Itwaseleveninthemorning,andtheheathadnotyetbegun.Youdbetterclosethewindow,thewomansaid.Yourhairwillgetfullofsoot.Thegirltriedto,buttheshadewouldntmovebecauseoftherust.Theyweretheonlypassengersinthelonethirdclasscar.Sincethesmokeofthelocomotivekeptcomingthroughthewindow,thegirlleftherseatandputdowntheonlythingstheyhadwiththem:aplasticsackwithsomethingstoeatandabouquetofflowerswrappedinnewspaper.Shesatontheoppositeseat,awayfromthewindow,facinghermother.Theywerebothinsevereandpoormourningclothes.Thegirlwastwelveyearsold,anditwasthefirsttimeshedeverbeenonatrain.Thewomanseemedtoooldtobehermother,becauseoftheblueveinsonhereyelidsandhersmall,soft,andshapelessbody,inadresscutlikeacassock.Shewasridingwithherspinalcolumnbracedfirmlyagainstthebackoftheseat,andheldapeelingpatentleatherhandbaginherlapwithbothhands.Sheboretheconscientiousserenityofsomeoneaccustomedtopoverty.Bytwelvetheheathadbegun.Thetrainstoppedfortenminutestotakeonwateratastationwheretherewasnotown.Outside,inthemysterioussilenceoftheplantations,theshadowsseemedclean.Butthestillairinsidethecarsmelledlikeuntannedleather.Thetraindidnotpickupspeed.Itstoppedattwoidenticaltownswithwoodenhousespaintedbrightcolors.Thewomansheadnoddedandshesankintosleep.Thegirltookoffhershoes.Thenshewenttothewashroomtoputthebouquetofflowersinsomewater.Whenshecamebacktoherseat,hermotherwaswaitingtoeat.Shegaveherapieceofcheese,halfacornmealpancake,andacookie,andtookanequalportionoutoftheplasticsackforherself.Whiletheyate,thetraincrossedanironbridgeveryslowlyandpassedatownjustliketheonesbefore,exceptthatinthisonetherewasacrowdintheplaza.Abandwasplayingalivelytuneundertheoppressivesun.Attheothersideoftowntheplantationsendedinaplainwhichwascrackedfromthedrought.Thewomanstoppedeating.Putonyourshoes,shesaid.Thegirllookedoutside.Shesawnothingbutthedesertedplain,wherethetrainbegantopickupspeedagain,butsheputthelastpieceofcookieintothesackandquicklyputonhershoes.Thewomangaveheracomb.Combyourhair,shesaid.Thetrainwhistlebegantoblowwhilethegirlwascombingherhair.Thewomandriedthesweatfromherneckandwipedtheoilfromherfacewithherfingers.Whenthegirlstoppedcombing,thetrainwaspassingtheoutlyinghousesofatownlargerbutsadderthantheearlierones.

Ifyoufeellikedoinganything,doitnow,saidthewoman.Later,donttakeadrinkanywhereevenifyouredyingofthirst.Aboveall,nocrying.Thegirlnoddedherhead.Adry,burningwindcameinthewindow,togetherwiththelocomotiveswhistleandtheclatteroftheoldcars.Thewomanfoldedtheplasticbagwiththerestofthefoodandputitinthehandbag.Foramomentacompletepictureofthetown,onthatbrightAugustTuesday,shoneinthewindow.Thegirlwrappedtheflowersinthesoakingwetnewspapers,movedalittlefartherawayfromthewindow,andstaredathermother.Shereceivedapleasantexpressioninreturn.Thetrainbegantowhistleandsloweddown.Amomentlateritstopped.Therewasnooneatthestation.Ontheothersideofthestreet,onthesidewalkshadedbythealmondtrees,onlythepoolhallwasopen.Thetownwasfloatingintheheat.Thewomanandthegirlgotoffthetrainandcrossedtheabandonedstationthetilessplitapartbythegrassgrowingupbetweenandovertotheshadysideofthestreet.Itwasalmosttwo.Atthathour,weighteddownbydrowsiness,thetownwastakingasiesta.Thestores,thetownoffices,thepublicschoolwereclosedateleven,anddidntreopenuntilalittlebeforefour,whenthetrainwentback.Onlythehotelacrossfromthestation,withitsbarandpoolhall,andthetelegraphofficeatonesideoftheplazastayedopen.Thehouses,mostofthembuiltonthebananacompanysmodel,hadtheirdoorslockedfrominsideandtheirblindsdrawn.Insomeofthemitwassohotthattheresidentsatelunchinthepatio.Othersleanedachairagainstthewall,intheshadeofthealmondtrees,andtooktheirsiestarightoutinthestreet.Keepingtotheprotectiveshadeofthealmondtrees,thewomanandthegirlenteredthetownwithoutdisturbingthesiesta.Theywentdirectlytotheparishhouse.Thewomanscratchedthemetalgratingonthedoorwithherfingernail,waitedamoment,andscratchedagain.Anelectricfanwashumminginside.Theydidnothearthesteps.Theyhardlyheardtheslightcreakingofadoor,andimmediatelyacautiousvoice,rightnexttothemetalgrating:Whoisit?Thewomantriedtoseethroughthegrating.Ineedthepriest,shesaid.Hessleepingnow.Itsanemergency,thewomaninsisted.Hervoiceshowedacalmdetermination.Thedoorwasopenedalittleway,noiselessly,andaplump,olderwomanappeared,withverypaleskinandhairthecolorofiron.Hereyesseemedtoosmallbehindherthickeyeglasses.Comein,shesaid,andopenedthedooralltheway.Theyenteredaroompermeatedwithanoldsmellofflowers.Thewomanofthehouseledthemtoawoodenbenchandsignaledthemtositdown.Thegirldidso,buthermotherremainedstanding,absentmindedly,withbothhandsclutchingthehandbag.Nonoisecouldbeheardabovetheelectricfan.Thewomanofthehousereappearedatthedooratthefarendoftheroom.Hesaysyoushouldcomebackafterthree,shesaidinaverylowvoice.Hejustlaydownfiveminutesago.Thetrainleavesatthreethirty,saidthewoman.

Itwasabriefandselfassuredreply,buthervoiceremainedpleasant,fullofundertones.Thewomanofthehousesmiledforthefirsttime.Allright,shesaid.Whenthefardoorclosedagain,thewomansatdownnexttoherdaughter.Thenarrowwaitingroomwaspoor,neat,andclean.Ontheothersideofthewoodenrailingwhichdividedtheroom,therewasaworktable,aplainonewithanoilclothcover,andontopofthetableaprimitivetypewriternexttoavaseofflowers.Theparishrecordswerebeyond.Youcouldseethatitwasanofficekeptinorderbyaspinster.Thefardooropenedandthistimethepriestappeared,cleaninghisglasseswithahandkerchief.Onlywhenheputthemonwasitevidentthathewasthebrotherofthewomanwhohadopenedthedoor.HowcanIhelpyou?heasked.Thekeystothecemetery,saidthewoman.Thegirlwasseatedwiththeflowersinherlapandherfeetcrossedunderthebench.Thepriestlookedather,thenlookedatthewoman,andthenthroughthewiremeshofthewindowatthebright,cloudlesssky.Inthisheat,hesaid.Youcouldhavewaiteduntilthesunwentdown.Thewomanmovedherheadsilently.Thepriestcrossedtotheothersideoftherailing,tookoutofthecabinetanotebookcoveredinoilcloth,awoodenpenholder,andaninkwell,andsatdownatthetable.Therewasmorethanenoughhaironhishandstoaccountforwhatwasmissingonhishead.Whichgraveareyougoingtovisit?heasked.CarlosCentenos,saidthewoman.Who?CarlosCenteno,thewomanrepeated.Theprieststilldidnotunderstand.Hesthethiefwhowaskilledherelastweek,saidthewomaninthesametoneofvoice.Iamhismother.Thepriestscrutinizedher.Shestaredathimwithquietselfcontrol,andtheFatherblushed.Heloweredhisheadandbegantowrite.Ashefilledthepage,heaskedthewomantoidentifyherself,andsherepliedunhesitatingly,withprecisedetails,asifshewerereadingthem.TheFatherbegantosweat.Thegirlunhookedthebuckleofherleftshoe,slippedherheeloutofit,andresteditonthebenchrail.Shedidthesamewiththerightone.IthadallstartedtheMondayofthepreviousweek,atthreeinthemorning,afewblocksfromthere.Rebecca,alonelywidowwholivedinahousefullofoddsandends,heardabovethesoundofthedrizzlingrainsomeonetryingtoforcethefrontdoorfromoutside.Shegotup,rummagedaroundinherclosetforanancientrevolverthatnoonehadfiredsincethedaysofColonelAurelianoBuendia,andwentintothelivingroomwithoutturningonthelights.Orientingherselfnotsomuchbythenoiseatthelockasbyaterrordevelopedinherbytwenty

eightyearsofloneliness,shefixedinherimaginationnotonlythespotwherethedoorwasbutalsotheexactheightofthelock.Sheclutchedtheweaponwithbothhands,closedhereyes,andsqueezedthetrigger.Itwasthefirsttimeinherlifethatshehadfiredagun.Immediatelyaftertheexplosion,shecouldhearnothingexceptthemurmurofthedrizzleonthegalvanizedroof.Thensheheardalittlemetallicbumponthecementporch,andaverylowvoice,pleasantbutterriblyexhausted:Ah,Mother.Themantheyfounddeadinfrontofthehouseinthemorning,hisnoseblowntobits,woreaflannelshirtwithcoloredstripes,everydaypantswitharopeforabelt,andwasbarefoot.Nooneintownknewhim.SohisnamewasCarlosCenteno,murmuredtheFatherwhenhefinishedwriting.CentenoAyala,saidthewoman.Hewasmyonlyboy.Thepriestwentbacktothecabinet.Twobigrustykeyshungontheinsideofthedoor;thegirlimagined,ashermotherhadwhenshewasagirlandasthepriesthimselfmusthaveimaginedatsometime,thattheywereSaintPeterskeys.Hetookthemdown,putthemontheopennotebookontherailing,andpointedwithhisforefingertoaplaceonthepagehehadjustwritten,lookingatthewoman.Signhere.Thewomanscribbledhername,holdingthehandbagunderherarm.Thegirlpickeduptheflowers,cametotherailingshufflingherfeet,andwatchedhermotherattentively.Thepriestsighed.Didntyouevertrytogethimontherighttrack?Thewomanansweredwhenshefinishedsigning.Hewasaverygoodman.Thepriestlookedfirstatthewomanandthenatthegirl,andrealizedwithakindofpiousamazementthattheywerenotabouttocry.Thewomancontinuedinthesametone:Itoldhimnevertostealanythingthatanyoneneededtoeat,andhemindedme.Ontheotherhand,before,whenheusedtobox,heusedtospendthreedaysinbed,exhaustedfrombeingpunched.Allhisteethhadtobepulledout,interruptedthegirl.Thatsright,thewomanagreed.EverymouthfulIatethosedaystastedofthebeatingsmysongotonSaturdaynights.Godswillisinscrutable,saidtheFather.Buthesaiditwithoutmuchconviction,partlybecauseexperiencehadmadehimalittleskepticalandpartlybecauseoftheheat.Hesuggestedthattheycovertheirheadstoguardagainstsunstroke.Yawning,andnowalmostcompletelyasleep,hegavetheminstructionsabouthowtofindCarlosCentenosgrave.Whentheycameback,theydidnthavetoknock.Theyshouldputthekeyunderthedoor;andinthesameplace,iftheycould,theyshouldputanofferingfortheChurch.Thewomanlistenedtohisdirectionswithgreatattention,butthankedhimwithoutsmiling.

TheFatherhadnoticedthattherewassomeonelookinginside,hisnosepressedagainstthemetalgrating,evenbeforeheopenedthedoortothestreet.Outsidewasagroupofchildren.Whenthedoorwasopenedwide,thechildrenscattered.Ordinarily,atthathourtherewasnooneinthestreet.Nowtherewerenotonlychildren.Thereweregroupsofpeopleunderthealmondtrees.TheFatherscannedthestreetswimmingintheheatandthenheunderstood.Softly,heclosedthedooragain.Waitamoment,hesaidwithoutlookingatthewoman.Hissisterappearedatthefardoorwithablackjacketoverhernightshirtandherhairdownoverhershoulders.ShelookedsilentlyattheFather.Whatwasit?heasked.Thepeoplehavenoticed,murmuredhissister.Youdbettergooutbythedoortothepatio,saidtheFather.Itsthesamethere,saidhissister.Everybodyisatthewindows.Thewomanseemednottohaveunderstooduntilthen.Shetriedtolookintothestreetthroughthemetalgrating.Thenshetookthebouquetofflowersfromthegirlandbegantomovetowardthedoor.Thegirlfollowedher.Waituntilthesungoesdown,saidtheFather.Youllmelt,saidhissister,motionlessatthebackoftheroom.WaitandIlllendyouaparasol.Thankyou,repliedthewoman.Wereallrightthisway.Shetookthegirlbythehandandwentintothestreet.