"On the narrow road parallel to the railway there were oxcarts loaded with green bunches of bananas. Beyond the road, in uncultivated spaces set at odd intervals there were offices with electric fans, red‐brick buildings, and residences with chairs and little white tables on the terraces among dusty palm trees and rose bushes. It was eleven in the morning, and the heat had not yet begun."
Before the final stop, the mother said her daughter to prepare herself, “Put on your shoes, ... comb your hair”. That's what mothers usually say in these circumstances. They arrived in the small town in midday during the siesta. There was nobody on the streets. The woman and her daughter went directly to the parish house. She asked the priest.
When the priest came the woman asked him for keys to the cemetery. This is a dialog which occurred between the priest and the woman:
“Which grave are you going to visit?” he asked.
“Carlos Centeno's,” said the woman.
“Carlos Centeno,” the woman repeated.
The priest still did not understand.
“He's the thief who was killed here last week,” said the woman in the same tone of voice. “I am his mother.”
The priest scrutinized her. She endured his glance with quiet self-control, and the Father blushed. He lowered his head and began to write. He asked the woman if she tried to get her son on the right track. She answered that her only son was a very good man, he never stole anything that anyone needed to eat. She said, "before, when he used to box, he used to spend three days in bed, exhausted from being punched.” “All his teeth had to be pulled out,” interrupted the girl. The woman added, “Every mouthful I ate those days tasted of the beatings my son got on Saturday nights.”
The Father had noticed that somebody looked inside the house. It was unusual because during the siesta nobody walked on the streets. Soon they saw that the other people standing in front of all doors. It was suggested the woman and her daughter not to go out, to stay for a night in the house but she refused. These are the last lines in the story:
"Thank you,” replied the woman. “We're all right this way.”
She took the girl by the hand and went into the street."
The story left reader the choice to judge what is good and what is wrong there. Gabriel García Márquez expressed the idea of the responsibility of the mother - she did what she thought was the right thing. In the world of oppression and poverty, she can salvage her pride by not allowing anyone to trample on the love to her only son.
This is the link to the text of the story: