{"id":20587,"date":"2025-03-07T23:26:34","date_gmt":"2025-03-08T03:26:34","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/?p=20587"},"modified":"2025-03-07T23:26:37","modified_gmt":"2025-03-08T03:26:37","slug":"gabriel-garcia-marquez-the-woman-who-came-at-six-oclock","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/short-stories\/gabriel-garcia-marquez-the-woman-who-came-at-six-oclock\/20587\/","title":{"rendered":"Gabriel Garc\u00eda M\u00e1rquez: The Woman Who Came at Six O\u2019clock"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Synopsis<\/strong>: The Woman Who Came at Six O’clock<\/em> (La mujer que llegaba a las seis) is a short story by Gabriel Garc\u00eda M\u00e1rquez published in 1950 in El Espectador. The story takes place in a small restaurant where Jos\u00e9, the owner, receives a woman every afternoon who always arrives at the same time. However, that afternoon, although her routine seems intact, she insists that she has arrived earlier. Through a tense dialogue full of innuendo, the woman gradually reveals the reason for her behavior.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\n
\"Gabriel<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

The Woman Who Came at Six O\u2019clock<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Gabriel Garc\u00eda M\u00e1rquez
(Full story)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The swinging door opened. At that hour there was nobody in Jos\u00e9\u2019s restaurant. It had just struck six and the man knew that the regular customers wouldn\u2019t begin to arrive until six-thirty. His clientele was so conservative and regular that the clock hadn\u2019t finished striking six when a woman entered, as on every day at that hour, and sat down on the stool without saying anything. She had an unlighted cigarette tight between her lips.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHello, queen,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said when he saw her sit down. Then he went to the other end of the counter, wiping the streaked surface with a dry rag. Whenever anyone came into the restaurant Jos\u00e9 did the same thing. Even with the woman, with whom he\u2019d almost come to acquire a degree of intimacy, the fat and ruddy restaurant owner put on his daily comedy of a hardworking man. He spoke from the other end of the counter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat do you want today?\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFirst of all I want to teach you how to be a gentleman,\u201d the woman said. She was sitting at the end of the stools, her elbows on the counter, the extinguished cigarette between her lips. When she spoke, she tightened her mouth so that Jos\u00e9 would notice the unlighted cigarette.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t notice,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou still haven\u2019t learned to notice anything,\u201d said the woman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man left the cloth on the counter, walked to the dark cupboards which smelled of tar and dusty wood, and came back immediately with the matches. The woman leaned over to get the light that was burning in the man\u2019s rustic, hairy hands. Jos\u00e9 saw the woman\u2019s lush hair, all greased with cheap, thick Vaseline. He saw her uncovered shoulder above the flowered brassiere. He saw the beginning of her twilight breast when the woman raised her head, the lighted butt between her lips now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re beautiful tonight, queen,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cStop your nonsense,\u201d the woman said. \u201cDon\u2019t think that\u2019s going to help me pay you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not what I meant, queen,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said. \u201cI\u2019ll bet your lunch didn\u2019t agree with you today.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The woman sucked in the first drag of thick smoke, crossed her arms, her elbows still on the counter, and remained looking at the street through the wide restaurant window. She had a melancholy expression. A bored and vulgar melancholy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll fix you a good steak,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI still haven\u2019t got any money,\u201d the woman said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou haven\u2019t had any money for three months and I always fix you something good,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cToday\u2019s different,\u201d said the woman somberly, still looking out at the street.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEvery day\u2019s the same,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said. \u201cEvery day the clock says six, then you come in and say you\u2019re hungry as a dog and then I fix you something good. The only difference is this: today you didn\u2019t say you were as hungry as a dog but that today is different.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd it\u2019s true,\u201d the woman said. She turned to look at the man, who was at the other end of the counter checking the refrigerator. She examined him for two or three seconds. Then she looked at the clock over the cupboard. It was three minutes after six. \u201cIt\u2019s true, Jos\u00e9. Today is different,\u201d she said. She let the smoke out and kept on talking with crisp, impassioned words. \u201cI didn\u2019t come at six today, that\u2019s why it\u2019s different, Jos\u00e9.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man looked at the clock.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll cut off my arm if that clock is one minute slow,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not it, Jos\u00e9. I didn\u2019t come at six o\u2019clock today,\u201d the woman said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt just struck six, queen,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said. \u201cWhen you came in it was just finishing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ve got a quarter of an hour that says I\u2019ve been here,\u201d the woman said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jos\u00e9 went over to where she was. He put his great puffy face up to the woman while he tugged on one of his eyelids with his index finger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBlow on me here,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The woman threw her head back. She was serious, annoyed, softened, beautified by a cloud of sadness and fatigue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cStop your foolishness, Jos\u00e9. You know I haven\u2019t had a drink for six months.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTell it to somebody else,\u201d he said, \u201cnot to me. I\u2019ll bet you\u2019ve had a pint or two at least.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI had a couple of drinks with a friend,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, now I understand,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere\u2019s nothing to understand,\u201d the woman said. \u201cI\u2019ve been here for a quarter of an hour.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man shrugged his shoulders.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, if that\u2019s the way you want it, you\u2019ve got a quarter of an hour that says you\u2019ve been here,\u201d he said. \u201cAfter all, what difference does it make, ten minutes this way, ten minutes that way?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt makes a difference, Jos\u00e9,\u201d the woman said. And she stretched her arms over the glass counter with an air of careless abandon. She said: \u201cAnd it isn\u2019t that I wanted it that way; it\u2019s just that I\u2019ve been here for a quarter of an hour.\u201d She looked at the clock again and corrected herself: \u201cWhat am I saying\u2014it\u2019s been twenty minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cO.K., queen,\u201d the man said. \u201cI\u2019d give you a whole day and the night that goes with it just to see you happy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

During all this time Jos\u00e9 had been moving about behind the counter, changing things, taking something from one place and putting it in another. He was playing his role.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI want to see you happy,\u201d he repeated. He stopped suddenly, turning to where the woman was. \u201cDo you know that I love you very much?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The woman looked at him coldly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYe-e-es . . . ? What a discovery, Jos\u00e9. Do you think I\u2019d go with you even for a million pesos?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t mean that, queen,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said. \u201cI repeat, I bet your lunch didn\u2019t agree with you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not why I said it,\u201d the woman said. And her voice became less indolent. \u201cNo woman could stand a weight like yours, even for a million pesos.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jos\u00e9 blushed. He turned his back to the woman and began to dust the bottles on the shelves. He spoke without turning his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re unbearable today, queen. I think the best thing is for you to eat your steak and go home to bed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m not hungry,\u201d the woman said. She stayed looking out at the street again, watching the passers-by of the dusking city. For an instant there was a murky silence in the restaurant. A peacefulness broken only by Jos\u00e9\u2019s fiddling about in the cupboard. Suddenly the woman stopped looking out into the street and spoke with a tender, soft, different voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo you really love me, Pepillo?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI do,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said dryly, not looking at her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn spite of what I\u2019ve said to you?\u201d the woman asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat did you say to me?\u201d Jos\u00e9 asked, still without any inflection in his voice, still without looking at her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat business about a million pesos,\u201d the woman said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019d already forgotten,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo do you love me?\u201d the woman asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes,\u201d said Jos\u00e9.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was a pause. Jos\u00e9 kept moving about, his face turned toward the cabinets, still not looking at the woman. She blew out another mouthful of smoke, rested her bust on the counter, and then, cautiously and roguishly, biting her tongue before saying it, as if speaking on tiptoe:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEven if you didn\u2019t go to bed with me?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And only then did Jos\u00e9 turn to look at her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI love you so much that I wouldn\u2019t go to bed with you,\u201d he said. Then he walked over to where she was. He stood looking into her face, his powerful arms leaning on the counter in front of her, looking into her eyes. He said: \u201cI love you so much that every night I\u2019d kill the man who goes with you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the first instant the woman seemed perplexed. Then she looked at the man attentively, with a wavering expression of compassion and mockery. Then she had a moment of brief disconcerted silence. And then she laughed noisily.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re jealous, Jos\u00e9. That\u2019s wild, you\u2019re jealous!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jos\u00e9 blushed again with frank, almost shameful timidity, as might have happened to a child who\u2019d revealed all his secrets all of a sudden. He said:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis afternoon you don\u2019t seem to understand anything, queen.\u201d And he wiped himself with the rag. He said:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis bad life is brutalizing you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But now the woman had changed her expression.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo, then,\u201d she said. And she looked into his eyes again, with a strange glow in her look, confused and challenging at the same time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo you\u2019re not jealous.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn a way I am,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said. \u201cBut it\u2019s not the way you think.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He loosened his collar and continued wiping himself, drying his throat with the cloth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo?\u201d the woman asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe fact is I love you so much that I don\u2019t like your doing it,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d the woman asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis business of going with a different man every day,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWould you really kill him to stop him from going with me?\u201d the woman asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot to stop him from going with you, no,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said. \u201cI\u2019d kill him because he went<\/em> with you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s the same thing,\u201d the woman said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The conversation had reached an exciting density. The woman was speaking in a soft, low, fascinated voice. Her face was almost stuck up against the man\u2019s healthy, peaceful face, as he stood motionless, as if bewitched by the vapor of the words.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s true,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo,\u201d the woman said, and reached out her hand to stroke the man\u2019s rough arm. With the other she tossed away her butt. \u201cSo you\u2019re capable of killing a man?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFor what I told you, yes,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said. And his voice took on an almost dramatic stress.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The woman broke into convulsive laughter, with an obvious mocking intent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow awful, Jos\u00e9. How awful,\u201d she said, still laughing. \u201cJos\u00e9 killing a man. Who would have known that behind the fat and sanctimonious man who never makes me pay, who cooks me a steak every day and has fun talking to me until I find a man, there lurks a murderer. How awful, Jos\u00e9! You scare me!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jos\u00e9 was confused. Maybe he felt a little indignation. Maybe, when the woman started laughing, he felt defrauded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re drunk, silly,\u201d he said. \u201cGo get some sleep. You don\u2019t even feel like eating anything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But the woman had stopped laughing now and was serious again, pensive, leaning on the counter. She watched the man go away. She saw him open the refrigerator and close it again without taking anything out. Then she saw him move to the other end of the counter. She watched him polish the shining glass, the same as in the beginning. Then the woman spoke again with the tender and soft tone of when she said: \u201cDo you really love me, Pepillo?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJos\u00e9,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man didn\u2019t look at her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJos\u00e9!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGo home and sleep,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said. \u201cAnd take a bath before you go to bed so you can sleep it off.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSeriously, Jos\u00e9,\u201d the woman said. \u201cI\u2019m not drunk.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen you\u2019ve turned stupid,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCome here, I\u2019ve got to talk to you,\u201d the woman said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man came over stumbling, halfway between pleasure and mistrust.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCome closer!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He stood in front of the woman again. She leaned forward, grabbed him by the hair, but with a gesture of obvious tenderness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTell me again what you said at the start,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d Jos\u00e9 asked. He was trying to look at her with his head turned away, held by the hair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat you\u2019d kill a man who went to bed with me,\u201d the woman said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019d kill a man who went to bed with you, queen. That\u2019s right,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The woman let him go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn that case you\u2019d defend me if I killed him, right?\u201d she asked affirmatively, pushing Jos\u00e9\u2019s enormous pig head with a movement of brutal coquettishness. The man didn\u2019t answer anything. He smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnswer me, Jos\u00e9,\u201d the woman said. \u201cWould you defend me if I killed him?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat depends,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said. \u201cYou know it\u2019s not as easy as you say.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe police wouldn\u2019t believe anyone more than you,\u201d the woman said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jos\u00e9 smiled, honored, satisfied. The woman leaned over toward him again, over the counter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s true, Jos\u00e9. I\u2019m willing to bet that you\u2019ve never told a lie in your life,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou won\u2019t get anywhere this way,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJust the same,\u201d the woman said. \u201cThe police know you and they\u2019ll believe anything without asking you twice.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jos\u00e9 began pounding on the counter opposite her, not knowing what to say. The woman looked out at the street again. Then she looked at the clock and modified the tone of her voice, as if she were interested in finishing the conversation before the first customers arrived.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWould you tell a lie for me, Jos\u00e9?\u201d she asked. \u201cSeriously.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then Jos\u00e9 looked at her again, sharply, deeply, as if a tremendous idea had come pounding up in his head. An idea that had entered through one ear, spun about for a moment, vague, confused, and gone out through the other, leaving behind only a warm vestige of terror.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat have you got yourself into, queen?\u201d Jos\u00e9 asked. He leaned forward, his arms folded over the counter again. The woman caught the strong and ammonia-smelling vapor of his breathing, which had become difficult because of the pressure that the counter was exercising on the man\u2019s stomach.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis is really serious, queen. What have you got yourself into?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The woman made her head spin in the opposite direction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNothing,\u201d she said. \u201cI was just talking to amuse myself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then she looked at him again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo you know you may not have to kill anybody?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI never thought about killing anybody,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said, distressed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, man,\u201d the woman said. \u201cI mean nobody goes to bed with me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh!\u201d Jos\u00e9 said. \u201cNow you\u2019re talking straight out. I always thought you had no need to prowl around. I\u2019ll make a bet that if you drop all this I\u2019ll give you the biggest steak I\u2019ve got every day, free.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank you, Jos\u00e9,\u201d the woman said. \u201cBut that\u2019s not why. It\u2019s because I can\u2019t<\/em> go to bed with anyone anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re getting things all confused again,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said. He was becoming impatient.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m not getting anything confused,\u201d the woman said. She stretched out on the seat and Jos\u00e9 saw her flat, sad breasts underneath her brassiere.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTomorrow I\u2019m going away and I promise you I won\u2019t come back and bother you ever again. I promise you I\u2019ll never go to bed with anyone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere\u2019d you pick up that fever?\u201d Jos\u00e9 asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI decided just a minute ago,\u201d the woman said. \u201cJust a minute ago I realized it\u2019s a dirty business.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jos\u00e9 grabbed the cloth again and started to clean the glass in front of her. He spoke without looking at her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He said:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOf course, the way you do it it\u2019s a dirty business. You should have known that a long time ago.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI was getting to know it a long time ago,\u201d the woman said, \u201cbut I was only convinced of it just a little while ago. Men disgust me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jos\u00e9 smiled. He raised his head to look at her, still smiling, but he saw her concentrated, perplexed, talking with her shoulders raised, twirling on the stool with a taciturn expression, her face gilded by premature autumnal grain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you think they ought to lay off a woman who kills a man because after she\u2019s been with him she feels disgust with him and everyone who\u2019s been with her?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere\u2019s no reason to go that far,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said, moved, a thread of pity in his voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat if the woman tells the man he disgusts her while she watches him get dressed because she remembers that she\u2019s been rolling around with him all afternoon and feels that neither soap nor sponge can get his smell off her?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat all goes away, queen,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said, a little indifferent now, polishing the counter. \u201cThere\u2019s no reason to kill him. Just let him go.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But the woman kept on talking, and her voice was a uniform, flowing, passionate current.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut what if the woman tells him he disgusts her and the man stops getting dressed and runs over to her again, kisses her again, does . . . ?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo decent man would ever do that,\u201d Jos\u00e9 says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat if he does?\u201d the woman asks, with exasperating anxiety. \u201cWhat if the man isn\u2019t decent and does it and then the woman feels that he disgusts her so much that she could die, and she knows that the only way to end it all is to stick a knife in under him?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s terrible,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said. \u201cLuckily there\u2019s no man who would do what you say.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell,\u201d the woman said, completely exasperated now. \u201cWhat if he did? Suppose he did.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn any case it\u2019s not that bad,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said. He kept on cleaning the counter without changing position, less intent on the conversation now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The woman pounded the counter with her knuckles. She became affirmative, emphatic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re a savage, Jos\u00e9,\u201d she said. \u201cYou don\u2019t understand anything.\u201d She grabbed him firmly by the sleeve. \u201cCome on, tell me that the woman should kill him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cO.K.,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said with a conciliatory bias. \u201cIt\u2019s all probably just the way you say it is.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIsn\u2019t that self-defense?\u201d the woman asked, grabbing him by the sleeve.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then Jos\u00e9 gave her a lukewarm and pleasant look.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAlmost, almost,\u201d he said. And he winked at her, with an expression that was at the same time a cordial comprehension and a fearful compromise of complicity. But the woman was serious. She let go of him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWould you tell a lie to defend a woman who does that?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat depends,\u201d said Jos\u00e9.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDepends on what?\u201d the woman asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDepends on the woman,\u201d said Jos\u00e9.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSuppose it\u2019s a woman you love a lot,\u201d the woman said. \u201cNot to be with her, but like you say, you love her a lot.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cO.K., anything you say, queen,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said, relaxed, bored.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\u2019d gone off again. He\u2019d looked at the clock. He\u2019d seen that it was going on half-past six. He\u2019d thought that in a few minutes the restaurant would be filling up with people and maybe that was why he began to polish the glass with greater effort, looking at the street through the window. The woman stayed on her stool, silent, concentrating, watching the man\u2019s movements with an air of declining sadness. Watching him as a lamp about to go out might have looked at a man. Suddenly, without reacting, she spoke again with the unctuous voice of servitude.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJos\u00e9!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man looked at her with a thick, sad tenderness, like a maternal ox. He didn\u2019t look at her to hear her, just to look at her, to know that she was there, waiting for a look that had no reason to be one of protection or solidarity. Just the look of a plaything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI told you I was leaving tomorrow and you didn\u2019t say anything,\u201d the woman said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said. \u201cYou didn\u2019t tell me where.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOut there,\u201d the woman said. \u201cWhere there aren\u2019t any men who want to sleep with somebody.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jos\u00e9 smiled again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre you really going away?\u201d he asked, as if becoming aware of life, quickly changing the expression on his face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat depends on you,\u201d the woman said. \u201cIf you know enough to say what time I got here, I\u2019ll go away tomorrow and I\u2019ll never get mixed up in this again. Would you like that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jos\u00e9 gave an affirmative nod, smiling and concrete. The woman leaned over to where he was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf I come back here someday I\u2019ll get jealous when I find another woman talking to you, at this time and on this same stool.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf you come back here you\u2019ll have to bring me something,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI promise you that I\u2019ll look everywhere for the tame bear, bring him to you,\u201d the woman said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jos\u00e9 smiled and waved the cloth through the air that separated him from the woman, as if he were cleaning an invisible pane of glass. The woman smiled too, with an expression of cordiality and coquetry now. Then the man went away, polishing the glass to the other end of the counter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat, then?\u201d Jos\u00e9 said without looking at her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWill you really tell anyone who asks you that I got here at a quarter to six?\u201d the woman said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat for?\u201d Jos\u00e9 said, still without looking at her now, as if he had barely heard her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat doesn\u2019t matter,\u201d the woman said. \u201cThe thing is that you do it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jos\u00e9 then saw the first customer come in through the swinging door and walk over to a corner table. He looked at the clock. It was six-thirty on the dot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cO.K., queen,\u201d he said distractedly. \u201cAnything you say. I always do whatever you want.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell,\u201d the woman said. \u201cStart cooking my steak, then.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man went to the refrigerator, took out a plate with a piece of meat on it, and left it on the table. Then he lighted the stove.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m going to cook you a good farewell steak, queen,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank you, Pepillo,\u201d the woman said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She remained thoughtful as if suddenly she had become sunken in a strange subworld peopled with muddy, unknown forms. Across the counter she couldn\u2019t hear the noise that the raw meat made when it fell into the burning grease. Afterward she didn\u2019t hear the dry and bubbling crackle as Jos\u00e9 turned the flank over in the frying pan and the succulent smell of the marinated meat by measured moments saturated the air of the restaurant. She remained like that, concentrated, reconcentrated, until she raised her head again, blinking as if she were coming back out of a momentary death. Then she saw the man beside the stove, lighted up by the happy, rising fire.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPepillo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat are you thinking about?\u201d the woman asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI was wondering whether you could find the little windup bear someplace,\u201d Jos\u00e9 said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOf course I can,\u201d the woman said. \u201cBut what I want is for you to give me everything I asked for as a going-away present.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jos\u00e9 looked at her from the stove.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow often have I got to tell you?\u201d he said. \u201cDo you want something besides the best steak I\u2019ve got?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes,\u201d the woman said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat is it?\u201d Jos\u00e9 asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI want another quarter of an hour.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jos\u00e9 drew back and looked at the clock. Then he looked at the customer, who was still silent, waiting in the corner, and finally at the meat roasting in the pan. Only then did he speak.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI really don\u2019t understand, queen,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t be foolish, Jos\u00e9,\u201d the woman said. \u201cJust remember that I\u2019ve been here since five-thirty.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

THE END<\/p>\n\n\n\n

(1950)<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The Woman Who Came at Six O’clock (La mujer que llegaba a las seis) is a short story by Gabriel Garc\u00eda M\u00e1rquez published in 1950 in El Espectador. The story takes place in a small restaurant where Jos\u00e9, the owner, receives a woman every afternoon who always arrives at the same time. However, that afternoon, although her routine seems intact, she insists that she has arrived earlier. Through a tense dialogue full of innuendo, the woman gradually reveals the reason for her behavior.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":19436,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_kad_blocks_custom_css":"","_kad_blocks_head_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_body_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_footer_custom_js":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[559],"tags":[694,692,630],"class_list":["post-20587","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-short-stories","tag-colombia-en","tag-gabriel-garcia-marquez-en","tag-realism","generate-columns","tablet-grid-50","mobile-grid-100","grid-parent","grid-33"],"acf":[],"taxonomy_info":{"category":[{"value":559,"label":"Short stories"}],"post_tag":[{"value":694,"label":"Colombia"},{"value":692,"label":"Gabriel Garc\u00eda M\u00e1rquez"},{"value":630,"label":"Realism"}]},"featured_image_src_large":["https:\/\/lecturia.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/02\/Gabriel-Garcia-Marquez-La-mujer-que-llegaba-a-las-seis2.webp",1024,1024,false],"author_info":{"display_name":"Juan Pablo Guevara","author_link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/author\/spartakku\/"},"comment_info":"","category_info":[{"term_id":559,"name":"Short stories","slug":"short-stories","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":559,"taxonomy":"category","description":"","parent":0,"count":420,"filter":"raw","cat_ID":559,"category_count":420,"category_description":"","cat_name":"Short stories","category_nicename":"short-stories","category_parent":0}],"tag_info":[{"term_id":694,"name":"Colombia","slug":"colombia-en","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":694,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":14,"filter":"raw"},{"term_id":692,"name":"Gabriel Garc\u00eda M\u00e1rquez","slug":"gabriel-garcia-marquez-en","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":692,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":14,"filter":"raw"},{"term_id":630,"name":"Realism","slug":"realism","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":630,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":52,"filter":"raw"}],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20587","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=20587"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20587\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/19436"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=20587"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=20587"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=20587"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}