Sciences Participating with Arts & Culture in Education

Teresa, con amor Part 3: Pedrito

Illustrated by Amara Burnett

Pedrito was the son of our cook, Guadalupe, and I had known him as long as I can remember. He wasn’t exactly handsome, at least not instantly. One had to get to know him to perceive the beauty in him, the way he could smile with his eyes and how excited he got every time we talked about politics and social justice.

If it were another life, Pedrito would’ve finished high school and gone to university, where he would have acquired all the knowledge one can. After university, he would have come back and stolen me away from the house one night. We would have married and, together, we would have opened a new Hacienda, which would have been very successful, but that wouldn't have gotten in the way of us having a happy marriage with two, no, three kids who would inherit my deep blue eyes and his beautiful auburn hair.

As you can guess by now, Pedrito and I didn’t last very long. Our forbidden love became an impossible love, partly because we were so different: I was rich and he was poor, I never took that much interest in politics, while he was a self-proclaimed rebel with a cause. And partly because, well, he died.

“Cuando vas dejar las tonterías y ya besarme Pedrito?” I asked him frequently, making him blush profoundly and mumble something like “No, Señorita Teresa, si yo la beso namás’ si estamos en un altar, en frente de un cura y usted a accedido a casarse conmigo.”

I swooned over him, his rough accent and his abbreviations.

This kept on for quite a while. It wasn’t until I turned 16 and was properly introduced to society that things got a little more complicated. 18 year-old Pedrito needed to focus on making something out of himself, and doña Mercedes, my mother, took it upon herself to find me a proper husband before I got all “arrugadita, fea y gorda”.

Still, in between the rows of men that mother sent my way, and Pedrito’s secret meetings (which I pretended not to know anything about), we still managed to sneak behind the stables to talk about our future, and whisper our secret plans of running away together.

It wasn’t until a couple of days after the famous ball - the one where I encountered Pepito - when I realized I couldn’t keep on overlooking his secrecy. I looked directly into his eyes and asked:

“Where are you sneaking away to?” I smiled gently, but the hands-on-my-hips and determined-eyes combination made it clear that there was no way he would be able to dismiss my question.

I guess I didn’t know what his answer would be, but what I wasn’t expecting was the look on his face before he answered. His lips were pursed and his eyes looked surprised, and, in a way, almost scared.  He didn’t try to dismiss it, no. Instead, he said, almost alarmingly loud:

“Are you having me tailed now?”

His lips were still pursed, and nowhere in sight was that beautiful smile I had fallen for.

“Look, Teresita. I can handle the hundred of men asking for your hand and following you around like perritos apaleados, so please, handle my secrecy.”

As he spoke, his eyes ran away from mine.

“Just… be careful, okay?” he added.

I want to say I didn’t know anything, that I could have never guessed he was part of them.

But I would be lying.

*

Querida Teresa,

Primero que nada, quiero que sepas que no lamento nada, nada. Tu fuiste, y siempre serás, el amor de mi corta pero feliz vida. La posibilidad de que sobreviva esto es realmente mínima, pero si sí lo logro, espérame en frente de tu casa el martes, 26 de septiembre a las 3:00 de la mañana. Nos vamos a fugar, como siempre hablábamos. Cura Solís nos va a esperar en frente de la catedral, donde nos casará.

Y si no lo logro, quiero que te cuides. No lamentes mi muerte, pues es mi vida la cual contribuye a un México justo, un México de todos.

Te amo, Tere.

Pedro Andrés López de Zaragoz.

I waited for him.

I waited until the sun came up.

I waited until the dew was no longer fresh, and the cat came out to play.

I waited until the paper was delivered, the maid came out to flirt, and the sun began to burn.

Nothing.

Pedro Andrés López de Zaragoz died September 26th, 1937, fighting with La Armada Mexicana a Favor de la Redistribución de Tierras.

¡LA TIERRA PARA LOS MEXICANOS!