After the children leave, Daniela descends the stairs to wait for the rest of the running group. She is mad at Dominga for getting pregnant, she is mad that women like her go through life paying dearly for stupid mistakes rather than improving their situation. Yet she also feels guilty about letting her go at such a critical moment. Dominga is an honest, hard working woman who takes good care of Daniela’s children. Although they are the same age, opportunities sets them worlds apart. Daniela suspects that in the end she will hire Dominga to clean a few days per week.
But for now, Daniela wants Dominga to squirm a little, to worry about her future; to grasp the consequences of her choices and the absurdity of living with a man out of wedlock while refusing to take the birth control pills she’s offered to purchase countless times. Catholic women in the barrio seem to pick and choose which Christian rules to abide by; none of them protect themselves from conceiving again and again, but they all live with marinovios.
Daniela greets the first arrival with the usual big, bright smile.
“Good morning. So, what circuit are we running today?”
“Let’s do the long one with the steep hill mid-route. I want to punish myself today,” responds Daniela, pulling her long, brown hair into a thin pony tail and bending down to stretch her lean calves, taking quick gander at her right, then left thigh. Her breasts, waistline, hips and thighs shrink in conjunction with her self-esteem.
Almost immediately, she runs ahead of the pack. It had been a very long week and she doesn’t want to talk about it. Ricardo was away Monday through Thursday and he went golfing the entire weekend, while she took care of the two kids. Lately, the only time he sees the boys is in the morning before heading off to work. Yet every time she broaches the subject, Ricardo replies that he is working hard to maintain their standard of living.
When they got married, Ricardo had risen to the task of providing for his family. His hard work and constancy had been rewarded with early promotions and by thirty he had achieved a high level of economic security. She had a great house in La Castellana, a new Ford Explorer, two maids, access to his family’s plane, vacation homes and plenty of money to spend on herself. Everything she had, everything she did, who she was in Caracas was a result of Ricardo’s hard work. Did she have any right to question how he spent his time?
Daniela pushes her body faster up the steep hill toward el Avila, the tallest mountain the Caracas, ignoring the burning pain in her chest. Running makes her feel powerful and in control; the aches in her muscles are a reminder of this moment of strength. She turns to that image of herself, “the athletic woman running up the hill,” for energy and vigor. This was all part of her plan to recapture and keep Ricardo’s attention, along with the plastic surgery, biweekly appointments at the hairdresser, massages and new wardrobe.
Once or twice Daniela had considered the possibility that Ricardo was not in love with her anymore, and that maybe she wasn’t in love with him either, which would explain why he would rather be doing anything else than spending time with her and the kids. Yet, when she thinks about leaving Ricardo, Daniela is overwhelmed by a crippling fear. Her identity is intermingled with the prestigious reputation of the Espino family; who she is today grew out of Ricardo’s success and all the great things they have because of it. She cannot see herself living in a small apartment, driving a used car, taking the children to a local beach for the weekend.
“Enough punishment,” she says and decreases the pace after the hill, letting Cristina catch up with her so they can chat for the final ten minutes of the circuit.
“How was the weekend?” Daniela asks expectantly. She revels in Cristina’s adventures and has to get the details of the events including: who went to the party, what they wore, how long they stayed and who they talked to. Daniela has fun through Cristina, the only woman in the running group who, at thirty-two, has never married.
“Any news of Santiago?” asks Daniela carefully; hoping that bringing up the most recent ex-boyfriend will not make her feel sad.
“Nope. I really don’t expect him to call me for the next few months.” In spite of her façade of acceptance and peace of mind, Daniela notices worry in Cristina’s green eyes and decides to drop the weekend gossip, thinking to herself, yet another reason to stay married.
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