Free One Out of Two by Daniel Sada

feel like it was her sister who was looking back at her out of that enormous and paradoxical full moon, intentionally imitating her primping, a form of mockery, and every once in a while—why not?—would quickly wink; then reality would return when her twin suddenly appeared beside her to hurry her along: because: with four of the same: oh, dear! which of them was who? If the reflection was accurate, they were all ghosts, or the other way around. Then, an outright denial when they left the gleaming, and the gleaming itself: would it flicker without them?
    Also, in the shop or while eating lunch or dinner, when they were concentrating in total silence, one of them would suddenly say: “Don’t worry about that. Oscar is dependable. He’ll be back.” To which the other, a bit taken aback yet pleased by the divination, in order to maintain the flow but not the sadness, would respond: “I’m so glad you think so, because sometimes I have my doubts. I don’t know, maybe one day he’ll regret our proper courtship.” From there would ensue a conversation, which would then be abruptly cut off in order to tamp down their fears.
    More recently, that is, when one Sunday followed another, they stopped spying on each other, only every once in a while, out of ghoulishness or avarice, but not systematically. Let’s agree that for the one whose turn it wasn’t, the best thing to do was get into bed and wait there for her equal’s return. The thing is: it didn’t make much sense, given their mutual intuition, the other anyway would know nearly straightaway all that happened out there in the walnut grove. Also, they spoke sparingly about the specifics of any particular outing, unlike how it had been at the beginning; from this it can be seen that each on her own never neglected a single detail: the same tone of voice, the same graceful charm: which meant that there wasn’t a chance in hell that even by that time the boyfriend suspected there were two rather than one. How could he have?! Only the idle one would make a few terse comments: “Things didn’t go so well; you were bored. He talked about pigs, don’t deny it.” Or, on the contrary: “It was an inspired afternoon, wasn’t it?” and the other would nod.
    One weighty reason not to go around spying on each other was that even the lowliest of the town’s inhabitants were already aware of the glorious romance. They likely drummed up their own hackneyed conclusions, mostly because there’s a whole lot of dead time in this town. And here, any courtship is a downright puzzle until finally the date of the wedding can be surmised or is announced; it stops being a problem once the not-so-fair maiden explains to whomever is asking the specific reasons for the glacial pace. But since the sign in the shop read: DO NOT DISTURB … RESTRICT YOUR CONVERSATION TO THE BUSINESS AT HAND … the Ocampan gossip mill was running at full tilt. Moreover, still pending—and this is conditional—was which of them the man had set his sights on, as well as the glaring doubt about whether that stranger already knew both of them and if he could differentiate between them based on a single feature anywhere. No. Indeed. It was of course better for them to keep those details secret.
    And, the final twist: why in the walnut grove, why there, when all couples meet—and always have met—in the town square, the only square in town? This is a very serious issue, in the opinion of many, and it is highly likely that at least one spy observed them from behind some bushes. None of the three, however, noticed any movement or peeping eyes in case there were any nearby; and anyway they weren’t going to go farther away—past the nopales or anything like that—just because they’d been seen or heard.
    The upshot, alas!: love sprouted, and grew, like ever-searching ivy: inwardly: by necessity: never flagging: a secret force that loses its way because it’s all so unfathomable; in the same way,