While she worked, Ofelia's mind ran on a million things. She thought of the age difference between herself and her boss. He was sixteen years her senior. And yet Ofelia came from a culture that didn't frown on this kind of a gap in age. It presented no problem for Ofelia, but it seemed like an issue for Daniel. He kept mentioning his age like it was important. She also gave some thought to their ethnic difference. No one in her family had ever married a guero. Her father had run off with a white woman, but marriage was different. Sometimes people suspected the Hispanic person was marrying the white person for the wrong reasons.
Ofelia had even heard a few accusations when she began to go out with Leonard. Leonard was only half Hispanic and had been born in Arizona. Why is such a beautiful girl going with a nerd like that? she heard people say: not directly, of course, but at second or third-hand. This was one of the reasons Ofelia had gotten so good at disregarding what other people thought about her. They had her pegged so dead wrong, it was as if they weren't speaking about her at all but about someone else who shared her name, someone who looked like her but wasn't.
Ofelia thought of Leonard. How could she break her promise to him? She was not in love with him, she knew that long before she had developed feelings for Daniel; but she had a deep affection for him because of his decency, because he wasn't like other men. There was a strength to him which Ofelia admired, and yet there was a weakness which stood in the way of any true feelings of romantic love kindling in her for him. This weakness manifested itself in Leonard's inability to stake his claim. He tolerated her behavior with other men, and he tolerated the other men. She knew there was a sexual kink in him that worked in concert with the kink in her, even though they never spoke of it; but it was more than that. It wasn't cowardice, necessarily. I wasn't a lack of courage, it was a lack of passion.
For Ofelia, passion was just another word for romantic love. If what happened between a man and woman lacked passion, it could be loving, but it could have no resemblance to romantic love. Not the way she conceived it. In other words, she did love Leonard, and could easily imagine herself as his wife. He was the perfect choice, as a husband, and as the father of her children; but he could be all those things and still not be her lover. How ironic it was that, when she really thought about it, even Manuel was more a lover to her than her own fiance. She couldn't imagine having with Leonard the very same thing that she had with Manuel only the night before. But, if Manuel had been Daniel?
Aiy, she thought, I would have exploded.
Ofelia was reluctant to examine herself in the same exhaustive and studious manner as she examined others. This was assuredly one of her worst faults. As she stood there at her machine she tried her hardest to be self-critical. She knew she was too free with men. That was easy. She gave them too many liberties, she wasn't stern enough with them. Of course, there was that kink of hers to consider. She didn't grant them liberties because she was a push-over, or was a faint little weakling. She let them do only so much, and exactly that much; and she let them do it because it gave her pleasure: it was rewarding to them, but a thousand times more rewarding to herself.
She wondered, does that make it more of a sin? Of course it did. Being a push-over, being faint and weak, is one thing, and maybe not even such a terrible thing; but acting strictly for your own pleasure was certainly sinful. This was one of the things that Ofelia kept at a distance from her, in a blur of rationalizations and excuses. In fact, she had grown so adept at ignoring this understanding of herself that as soon as she thought about it there at her machine, it was gone again. She thought about her brother and wondered what he was thinking, wherever he was at the moment. Probably at the library, or the bookstore.
Was it sinful, the relationship she and Manuel had? They never kissed like boyfriend and girlfriend, but they did things together that people in a romantic relationship did. She thought of the night before, and felt a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. She had never climaxed anywhere near that powerfully before. What a deliciously odd combination of things had gone into that overwhelming explosion of sensation, she thought! She had used her brother's hand to masturbate while thinking of Daniel. But could it have been just anybody's fingers down there? She thought about it. Leonard? Nope, sorry, Querido. Paul? Chale, no. For some reason she thought Manuel was the only one who would have been suitable as a conduit between her onanistic self and her lover, Daniel.
Why was that? The answer was simple. Manuel loved her, and she loved him, even though he wasn't and couldn't be her romantic lover; but the advantage he had over Leonard was that, as her younger brother, she loved to make him happy. Because they were siblings and were so close, Manuel's happiness meant happiness for Ofelia. And since she knew how strongly he loved her (and probably even in a "romantic" way, though it was much deeper than that), she knew what it meant to him, what had happened last night. She could feel his happiness, and it made her happy.
So it seemed to Ofelia that she had a choice to make, that there was no way of avoiding it. Daniel was not going to be happy unless and until he either possessed her or knew for a certainty that she was lost to him. She stood at her machine and already missed the excitement she had experienced at the pool with her boss. There was all that nervous tension, the uncertainty, the play-acting, the bluffing, those casual capitulations, forbidden kisses, and caresses. How could she live without any of that?
Although she hated herself for it, Ofelia had already been entertaining a fantasy in which she was married to Leonard and having a passionate love affair with Daniel. She thought about it while she was at her machine. She had been thinking about it while getting dressed for work. When she was in her teens she read hundreds of those pulp fiction paperbacks, the ones with a picture of a woman being seized from behind by some mysterious lover in a gazebo somewhere.
In those novels the husband was always some well-meaning dupe who couldn't satisfy his spitfire wife who was therefore forced to seek her sexual gratification in the arms of some prototypical bad-boy with the looks of an Adonis and the manners of a drunken sailor on shore leave. She remembered how excited she would get when the heroine went to meet her handsome but reckless lover, and when said lover was getting his seedy mitts all over her goblet-shaped, milk-white breasts which were supposed to give pleasure to the devoted and practical husband whose hard work and simple decency had earned and secured them for himself.
Ofelia imagined herself and Daniel making love in a huge bed with fancy quilts and coverlets. She imagined herself lying back with her married legs thrown far and wide, her feet in the air, while Daniel took his pleasure greedily and lustfully. While this was going on Leonard would be at work with a pencil behind his ear and a clipboard in his hands, knowing that another man was taking good care of his wife in a manner in which he was utterly incapable. Such thoughts made Ofelia's heart beat faster, and gave her a pleasant tickle in her belly. But even as she had these thoughts she knew that Daniel would never agree to having her on those terms. He wanted her for himself and himself alone. He had said those exact words, and he had meant them. Or so she presumed.
Ofelia imagined herself as Mrs. Davidson. A happily married woman who found all that she needed from men in one man alone. She imagined passionate nights filled with passionate, sanctified, moral, proper love-making. No more attention from dozens of hopeful suitors, no more exciting nights out laced with inappropriate kisses or fleeting, daring caresses. No more peeking eyes or wandering hands. No more wondering which blouse to wear, how much to show, how much to give, how much to hold back.
Ofelia told herself that she wouldn't miss those things once she had Daniel and they were together. She tried to convince herself that she only liked those things because her life lacked romantic love and passion. Cheap thrills and excitements were just a place-holder for the real thing, and Daniel was the real thing. Ofelia's heart fluttered and she smiled at the thought, and tried to ignore the voice at the very bottom of her heart that quietly whispered,
"No."
iii.
When her shift was over Ofelia went to get her paycheck and on her way out she passed by Daniel's office. She decided to knock on the door and see if he was in. He was.
"I just wanted to say bye." Ofelia told him when he answered. He looked tired. She knew he had a lot of paperwork to catch up on, which was why he was keeping his office door closed. He asked her to step in for a moment, if she had time. Ofelia went into the tiny office and Daniel closed it behind them, though only so he wouldn't have to shout over the sound of the machines and the general noise as the swing shift crew was coming in (or so he thought to himself).
"Ofelia, I was wondering..." Daniel began. Then he stopped abruptly. He asked, "Is Leonard working tonight?"
"Yeah, he works every night, except Sunday."
"Alright." Daniel said, and nodded. "Well, I would like to see you again. I mean, I would like to go out with you again, tonight."
Ofelia's heart gave a jump. "Okay. I would like that too." she said, and she did that thing with her hands like she was playing with gloves.
Daniel was glad. "Good. Of course, I'd want you to ask your fiance first, to make sure it was alright."
Ofelia said, "I will. I'll see him for a minute when I get home. Or I can call him at work."
