No One Writes to the Colonel, and Other Stories by Gabriel García Márquez

Author:Gabriel García Márquez
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing
Published: 2022-08-19T17:52:26+00:00

Ana was exhausted that morning. But the town’s excitement was contagious. Faster than usual, she collected the clothing to wash that week, and went to the harbor to witness the departure of the Negro. An impatient crowd was waiting next to the launches which were ready to shove off. Damaso was there.

Ana prodded him in the kidneys with her forefingers.

“What are you doing here?” asked Damaso, startled.

“I came to see you off,” said Ana.

Damaso rapped on a lamppost with his knuckles.

“Damn you,” he said.

After lighting a cigarette, he threw the empty pack into the river. Ana took another out of her chemise and put it in his shirt pocket. Damaso smiled for the first time.

“You never learn,” he said.

Ana went “Ha, ha.”

A little later they put the Negro on board. The took him through the middle of the plaza, his wrists tied behind his back with a rope held by a policeman. Two other policemen armed with rifles walked beside him. He was shirtless, his lower lip split open, and one eyebrow swollen, like a boxer. He avoided the crowd’s looks with passive dignity. At the door of the pool hall, where the greater part of the crowd had gathered to witness both ends of the show, the owner watched him pass moving his head silently. The rest observed him with a sort of eagerness.

The launch cast off at once. The Negro was on deck, tied hand and foot to an oil drum. When the launch turned around in the middle of the river and whistled for the last time, the Negro’s back shone.

“Poor man,” whispered Ana.

“Criminals,” someone near her said. “A human being can’t stand so much sun.”

Damaso located the voice coming from an extraordinarily fat woman, and he began to move toward the plaza. “You talk too much,” he hissed in Ana’s ear. “Now all you have to do is to shout the whole story.” She accompanied him to the door of the pool hall.

“At least go home and change,” she said when she left him. “You look like a beggar.”

The event had brought an excited group to the hall. Trying to serve them all, Roque was waiting on several tables at once. Damaso waited until he passed next to him.

“Would you like some help?”

Roque put half a dozen bottles of beer in front of him with glasses upended on the necks.

“Thanks, son.”

Damaso took the bottles to the tables. He took several orders, and kept on taking and bringing bottles until the customers left for lunch. Early in the morning, when he returned to the room, Ana realized that he had been drinking. She took his hand and put it on her belly.

“Feel here,” she said. “Don’t you feel it?”

Damaso gave no sign of enthusiasm.

“He’s kicking now,” said Ana. “He spends all night giving me little kicks inside.”

But he didn’t react. Concentrating on himself, he went out very early the next day and didn’t return until midnight. A week passed that way. For the few moments he spent in the house, smoking in bed, he avoided conversation.

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