Al fin, su marido se cansó de quedar bien con ella y se fue a quedar bien con alguien más.
Los primeros días Ofelia sintió la soledad como un cuchillo y se tuvo tanta pena que andaba por la casa a ratos ruborizada y a ratos pálida. [...]
Un día cambió los cuadros de pared, otro regaló sillas del comedor que de tanto ser modernas pasaron de moda. [...]. Al último arremetió contra su sala, segura de que urgía cambiar la tela de los sillones.
El tapicero llegó al mismo tiempo en que le entregaron por escrito la petición formal de divorcio. La puso a un lado para pensar en cosas más tangibles que el desamor en ocho letras. Trajinó en un muestrario buscando un color nuevo y cuando se decidió por el verde pálido el tapicero llamó a dos ayudantes que levantaron los muebles rumbo al taller.
[...] Ofelia los vio irse y siguió con la mirada el rastro de cositas que iban saliendo de entre los cojines: un botón, dos alfileres, una pluma que ya no pintaba, unas llaves de quién sabe dónde, un boleto de Bellas Artes que nunca encontraron a tiempo para llegar a la función, el rabo de unos anteojos, dos almendras que fueron botana y un papelito color de rosa, doblado en cuatro, que Ofelia recogió con el mismo sosiego con que había ido recogiendo los demás triques.
Lo abrió. Tenía escrito un recado con letras grandes e imprecisas que decía: «Corazón: has lo que lo que tu quieras, lo que mas quieras, has lo que tu decidas, has lo que mas te convenga, has lo que sientas mejor para todos».
«¿Has?», dijo Ofelia en voz alta. ¿Su marido se había ido con una mujer que escribía «haz» de hacer como «has» de haber? ¿Con una que no le ponía el acento a «tú» el pronombre y lo volvía «tu» el adjetivo? ¿Con alguien capaz de confundir el «más» de cantidad con el «mas» de no obstante?
La ortografía es una forma sutil de la elegancia de alma, quien no la tiene puede vivir en donde se le dé la gana.
Según el pliego que debía firmar, la causa del divorcio era incompatibilidad de caracteres. «Nada más cierto», pensó ella. «La ortografía es carácter». Firmó. | In the end, her husband got tired of getting along with her and went off to get along with somebody else. The first few days Ofelia felt the loneliness like a knife and she was so sad that she kept roaming around the house oftentimes flushed and other times pale. [...] One day she changed the paintings on the wall, another day she gave away some dining room chairs which were so modern they'd gone out of style. [...] Finally she attacked her living room, convinced that the armchairs were in urgent need of reupholstering. The reupholsterer arrived at the same time she was being delivered the formal petition for divorce in writing. She set it to one side in order to think about things more tangible than loss of love spelled out in words. She flipped through a set of swatches looking for a new color and when she'd settled on pale green the upholsterer called two assistants who picked up the furniture to take it off to the shop. [...] Ofelia watched them go, her eyes following the trail of tiny objects coming out from in between the seat cushions: a button, two safety pins, a pen that no longer wrote, some keys from who knows where, a ticket to the Fine Arts center which they'd never found in time to make it to the show, the end piece from an eyeglass frame, a couple of almonds that had been nibbled on, and a little pink piece of paper, folded in four, which Ofelia picked up as calmly as she'd been picking up the other odds and ends. She opened it. It had a message written in large unsteady handwriting which said: "Darling: Do whatever you want, if its what you really want, do whatever you decide on, whatever your most comfortable with, whatever you feel is best for everyone and there needs." "Its?" Ofelia said the word out loud. Her husband had run off with a woman who wrote "its" meaning "belonging to" in place of "it's" meaning "it is"? With a woman who didn't put the apostrophe in the contraction "you're" and turned it into the possessive "your"? With someone capable of mixing up "their" meaning possession with "there" meaning location? Proper spelling is a subtle expression of the elegance of the soul, and anyone who doesn't have it can go off and live anywhere they very well please. According to the document she was supposed to sign, the grounds for divorce were incompatibility of characters. "Nothing could be more true," she thought. "Spelling is character." She signed it.
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