Swift as Desire by Laura Esquivel

cook, but on a gas stove, not on coal. She excelled at French cooking, not Mexican. She didn’t really know much about Mexico, and of its cuisine she knew even less. Her Mexico was limited to the capital, or rather, to the boundaries of her own
colonia.
She thought the people in every house in Mexico ate like they did in her parents’ house and that all leftovers were stored in a refrigerator. She had never imagined that if she wanted a cup of coffee when she got up in the morning she would first have to light a fire in the stove. She didn’t know how to. Nothing she had studied could help her. She was only now learning the things that no teacher had ever taught her: for starters, that food that is not refrigerated spoils, it rots and is invaded by bugs. It requires a very organized mind to survive without a refrigerator. To know what to buy, and how much. The refinements of her education didn’t help her either when it came to washing laundry in the sink. She didn’t have the slightest idea how to do it. At home, her mother had the latest-model wringer washing machine. Washing by hand required much more effort. And besides, she didn’t have the right clothes for housework. She felt completely out of place, like a gringo on the dance floor.
    The only good thing was that she could count on Júbilo’s full support. At his side, all her problems vanished. The unknown Mexico appeared before her with a smiling face. In the company of her husband, food in themarkets would taste delicious and even horse droppings would smell glorious. Thanks to Júbilo, Lucha was able to discover the real Mexico, provincial Mexico, the Mexico of the poor, the Indians, the forgotten. A Mexico that was gradually being covered by railway lines and telegraph poles, spreading out over its surface like a spiderweb. And Lucha couldn’t help feeling like a fly about to be trapped by the spider, by some dark force hiding behind all this progress. She was unsettled by all the changes and by the other new developments she sensed were approaching. It all seemed so new to her: she felt insufficiently prepared.
    Most of all, she resented the lack of money. If she only had money, everything would be easy. She would be able to buy herself a few dresses and shawls that would make her feel less out of place in the markets. The rough jute bags in which she carried her shopping had already ruined all her silk stockings. Her new life required new clothes, a new hairstyle, and new shoes, but she had no money. Nor did the person on whom she depended.
    She had gotten married knowing that it was to a very young, very poor man, who had barely begun his career as a telegraph operator and who was not yet settled, but she had never imagined what all that really meant. All that had mattered to her was losing her virginity. Now she had to face the consequences, and forget her former life as a pampered young girl. She could no longer count on help from her mother, or her brothers, or her
nana
, nor on economic support from her father. Now she had to take care of things for herself. Light the fire in the morning,cook on coal, wash clothes by hand, dust, scrub, survive without perfume or Colgate toothpaste: and make sure that Júbilo didn’t notice how dissatisfied she felt. He deserved more than that. He was very good to her and gave her everything he could. It wasn’t much, but he gave it with true love. She had to admit that he struggled to make her happy, and while she was with him she never missed her
colonia
, her friends, her parties, her record player, or her radio. But when she was alone, she would cry when she counted the little money she had for the day’s shopping. When she went to the market she had to count every last centavo and to make the coins stretch as far as she could. As she walked through the stalls she would count her money in her head and rack her brains to find a way to prepare a complete meal with the fewest ingredients. And once she had