So she was glad that la comadre Sofi did not mention the Singer when she called. In fact, Sofi seemed a little absentminded about things like that lately, you know? Like she actually forgot to charge the comadre last month for her purchases at the carnecería. For years, the comadre had been buying every week from la Sofi and because times were sometimes a little harder than others and they were comadres and one never knows when she’ll need her troca jumped some cold early morning and the compadre down the road never minds too much being woken up to give it a jump, or you might find your comadre’s grown daughter with the child’s mind wandering down by the acequia barefoot in the snow, so you run to tell her where she is and things like that that happen between neighbors all the time, it all evens out.

So Sofi let such matters as immediate payment for the hamburger for the fried pies and chopped lamb for the green-chile stew go until the end of the month, and once in a while also “forgot” to charge for a week’s purchases. But she had never let the charge for the whole month go. So, what favor could the comadre from down the road offer to merit that kind of pardon?

But no, Sofi did not mention the bill. She hadn’t asked for her sewing machine back, neither. So the comadre changed her chanclas and put on her black going-out shoes that used to be her Sunday Mass shoes before they got so worn. She didn’t know why she was putting them on just to run down to her comadre Sofi’s where she had visited a million times, but something in Sofi’s voice on el telefón gave her the impression that the visit was going to be formal.

Maybe it was her business-like tone or maybe it was just the fact that Sofi had never called her on el telefón before. But then, how could she? The comadre had just installed her line when her youngest went to the Army, but before that she had never seen a need for it. Besides, who could afford it? So using el telefón alone made the comadre feel like Sofi must be having an emergency.