The grand wedding celebration of her only son, Mateo, to the sweet but still unknown Sofía, had ended in the early hours of the morning. The house was a mess, permeated with the smell of food, liquor, and the sweat of a hundred relatives dancing cumbia until dawn.
Although her bones were crying out for rest, by 5:00 a.m. Doña Elena was already up, broom in hand. For her, a dirty house was a mortal sin. It was 10:00 a.m., the tropical sun was already beating down, and not a sound came from upstairs, where the newlyweds lay.
Doña Elena’s blood began to boil. She stood at the foot of the wooden stairs and shouted in that thunderous voice that made her grandchildren tremble:
“Sofía! Mateo! It’s time! Come down and help; this isn’t a hotel!”
Silence. Heat and anger rose in her throat.
“Look, I may be old, but I’m not stupid! Get your butts up!” she shouted again, banging on the railing.
Nothing. Not a sound.
Indignation blinded her. What kind of daughter-in-law was this? Just arrived and already acting like a queen, sleeping until noon while her mother-in-law broke her back? Exhausted, sweating, and with her patience snapping, Doña Elena marched to the kitchen. Her eyes fell on the old, solid wooden broom handle she kept behind the door. She gripped it like a vengeful sword.
“Now you’ll see who’s boss in this house!” she muttered, taking the stairs two at a time, panting, her heart pounding in her temples. She was prepared to drag them out of bed with a stick if necessary. A lesson that young woman would never forget.
She burst into the room without knocking. The air was stale and hot.
“But how shameful this is…!” The scream died in her throat.
Her eyes widened. The broom handle slipped from her sweaty hands and hit the floor with a sharp crack. Doña Elena clutched her mouth, stifling a scream of pure terror.
The double bed was a scene straight from hell. It wasn’t just disorder. The white Egyptian cotton sheets, their most treasured wedding gift, were covered in dark, red, and extensive stains that looked like clotted blood. And everywhere, like snow on a battlefield, were scattered white feathers, stuck to the damp stains. It looked as if someone had been beheaded!
But the worst part was the human scene. Sofía was huddled in a corner of the bed, pale as wax, trembling violently, her eyes swollen from crying, clutching the sheet to her chest. And Mateo… her Mateo, sat on the edge of the bed, naked from the waist up, gasping for air. His arms and chest were smeared with that dark, reddish substance, and his eyes stared at his mother with a mixture of panic and deathly exhaustion.
“Holy Virgin! My God, Mateo! What have you done?” Doña Elena managed to moan, backing away until she hit the wall, feeling her legs give way.
Mateo jumped up, nearly collapsing from dizziness at the sight of his mother on the verge of collapse. Sofía burst into hysterical sobs, burying her face in the feather-filled pillow.
“Mom! No! Wait, it’s not what you think!” Mateo cried hoarsely, raising his red-stained hands. “It’s not blood, Mom, I swear!”
He pointed to his chest frantically. Beneath the sticky substance, Mateo’s skin was furiously red, covered in gigantic, inflamed welts.
“It was the comforter! That damn goose-down comforter you gave us!” he explained, almost crying with frustration. “I’m allergic, Mom! I couldn’t breathe! I felt like I was burning alive all night!”
Doña Elena, petrified, stared at the red stain on the sheet. Now that she looked closely, it was too thick, too dark to be fresh blood.
“And this… this is the achiote and herb concoction! The one Aunt Rosa made for muscle aches!” Mateo continued desperately. “It itched so much I was going to rip my skin off! Sofía… poor Sofía, panicked. She remembered that Grandma said achiote soothed the itching. She ran to the kitchen in the middle of the night, found the jar of ointment, and smeared it all over me.”
Sofia lifted her head, her face streaked with tears and snot:
“Doña Elena, forgive me! Mateo couldn’t breathe! I thought he was going to die right here from shock! I didn’t know what to do… I forgot to call you, I was so scared! Please forgive me!”
Mateo hugged his wife, both of them trembling.
“We spent all night scratching this, trying to clean ourselves, changing the sheets three times, but it stuck to everything… And feathers were flying everywhere! We barely managed to sleep an hour ago, we were so exhausted. Mom, forgive us!”
Doña Elena looked like a statue of salt. Her volcanic anger cooled in an instant, replaced by a wave of shame and pity that almost drowned her. She stared at the broom handle at her feet. She had climbed up there, ready to strike the woman who had spent the night awake saving her son. And the cause
Leave a Reply