i met you once
i met you twice
i couldn’t understand
i didn’t realize
the look of your eyes
the trace of your fingers on my jaw
the way of your smile...
i lost the chance
i didn’t miss the train
and you stayed on the railway...
viernes, 29 de octubre de 2010
viernes, 22 de octubre de 2010
A perfect luggage
She opened the closet and took the white shirts that were inside it. She put them carefully over the bed. She took one, she buttoned it and put it into the luggage. She did the same with all of them. When she finished with shirts she began with pants. She took one of them, taking care of the line that had to be in the middle of each leg were in the right place. Sure about the right position of the line, she put it into the luggage. Everything had to be as tidied as she could do it. Because of that she kept focused just on what she was doing. Her mind was empty of other thoughts. What she was doing had to be the most important thing in the whole world. That was the best way to do it, and she perfectly knew it. He was going to need also some sport clothes, his shoes and his tennis, besides socks and boxers. So she took those things too. Even though he was not going to appreciate other kind of things that weren’t so necessary, because he had perfectly shown his troubles to recognize the slight things, mixing and confusing deep with surface, she put his shaver-set, and some toilette things, like soap and shampoo. Surely he was not going to be pretty interested in them, but it was not the point. What was the point? To prepare a perfect luggage and she was doing her best effort to get it. So, she took the list she had prepared the night before and began to look up the articles, making a tick on the left side of the words if the thing appeared where it had to.
Everything was ready. She looked at the watch. She still had time to take a shower before he came back home. After that she drank a cup of greentea, her favorite one when she was interested in enjoying a break, and sat on her black sofa. She still had time to smoke a cigarette. She took the box and with a quick sight she realized the box was almost full, fortunately. She stretched her back over the seat and felt her body too heavy. She lit the cigarette and put the ashtray over her laps. She kept smoking calmly as if it were the last cigarette she was going to smoke in all her life. When she finished it she put the ashtray over the coffee table again. The stub was laying on it rounded by ashes like a corpse in a funeral rounded by flowers.
Just in time the door was opened by him. Everything is ready, she said. I have prepared your things. You just have to pick them. I hope not to see you again, you know…
He took the luggage. Damn it! It’s too heavy. What’s the hell did you put inside it?, he hardly shouted. It seems as if it were full of debris. Could you call a taxi? Are you listening to me? Are you dumb? No, i’m gonna tell you what’s the fucking matter with you. You are crazy. You are absolutely crazy. You look so ridiculous! I hate your full-blown appearance! Not only this…I hate your hole appearance…I hate you, you know, i hate you. I don’t want to see you again!
She locked the door and kept close to it until she could listen to its click. Then she got rid of the ashes that were laying on the ashtray, throwing them in the rubbish. Obviously he was already on the sidewalk.
Everything was ready. She looked at the watch. She still had time to take a shower before he came back home. After that she drank a cup of greentea, her favorite one when she was interested in enjoying a break, and sat on her black sofa. She still had time to smoke a cigarette. She took the box and with a quick sight she realized the box was almost full, fortunately. She stretched her back over the seat and felt her body too heavy. She lit the cigarette and put the ashtray over her laps. She kept smoking calmly as if it were the last cigarette she was going to smoke in all her life. When she finished it she put the ashtray over the coffee table again. The stub was laying on it rounded by ashes like a corpse in a funeral rounded by flowers.
Just in time the door was opened by him. Everything is ready, she said. I have prepared your things. You just have to pick them. I hope not to see you again, you know…
He took the luggage. Damn it! It’s too heavy. What’s the hell did you put inside it?, he hardly shouted. It seems as if it were full of debris. Could you call a taxi? Are you listening to me? Are you dumb? No, i’m gonna tell you what’s the fucking matter with you. You are crazy. You are absolutely crazy. You look so ridiculous! I hate your full-blown appearance! Not only this…I hate your hole appearance…I hate you, you know, i hate you. I don’t want to see you again!
She locked the door and kept close to it until she could listen to its click. Then she got rid of the ashes that were laying on the ashtray, throwing them in the rubbish. Obviously he was already on the sidewalk.
viernes, 15 de octubre de 2010
A date
She had tidied her head up. She was ready. In a few minutes they would meet in a pub. At first, everything would be all right. They would talk about their names, their occupations… But after having said “nice to meet you” the silence would become deep.
What would they talk about? She wanted to look like a pretty woman, not like a smart one.
In some sense she was as common as her name. Laura. Neither so beautiful, nor so ugly. Black hair and eyes. A harmonical body into delicate manners. She liked to be in, putting urban’s clothes on herself., usually dressed in jeans. She could be the coolest lady or the most arrogant one. It depended. People who were in front of her could change her smile, the tone of her voice, the look of her eyes. Then she suffered too many changes in different circumstances.
The typical woman who goes by carelessly among a crowd. But if someone stares at her, he surely becomes surprised. At the end, everybody who knew her was pretty interested in her. She didn’t like to speak a lot. She enjoyed listening to other people’s speech. Since she was a little girl she liked to have her own world, full of books and movies. She had liked to stand herself for some character but she would never have found any special one. Instead of it she had practiced the knowledge about herself. Her possibilities. Even her own limits.
She had never thought who she wanted to be. Simply, she had been what she could. She was a bit shy. She needed to take her time to feel trust. Afterwards she could open herself, even looked like a funny woman. Hence if she felt threatened, she could become a wild beast. She knew it perfectly. She hoped not to feel such kind of feelings.
Two unknown people. An easy conversation about movies or books. But when she told him about Adriano’s memories, one of her favourite books, he would see her like a freak or like a fool. And, of course he would forget to ask her phone number.
Had he ever heard the title? Even more, had he thought anytime about death? Would she be able to talk with him about this kind of things? She wasn’t sure about it. Maybe she would have to keep in silence, like an innocent lady, watching his speech out, putting her thoughts away. Was she really ready? Whatever!, she thought. She turned the lights off, locked the door and got out to the street. Maybe he wouldn’t come to the date and her life would go on her lonely way.
She didn’t want to have another bad experience. She remembered the last one. One year ago she had known a man. She had felt they had common things. They could spend time together talking about different points. They liked the same movies and the same literature. He was a nice chance. Of what? She couldn’t know it. .Everything was going in the right way. They began to spend more time together. She had never said anything about her love’s difficulties, but surely, he could imagine her kind of troubles. So she had decided not to tell him who she was in reality. Even though they were meeting frequently, no words about engagement had been said. . She could breath in calmly. Yet. A cold rainy night they had gone to a party.
What do you want to drink? I don’t know…maybe a beer. Well, both of us are going to drink a beer. Do you want a beer? Why are you going to drink it if you never liked it? Today i want the same than you. Both the same…. Yes, both the same
That night he kept in silence. Something in the air was announcing storm. Suddenly he said the magic words: “I want something serious with you”
What‘s the meaning of something serious? Something serious, you know. I don’t know anything about this stuff. Take it easy, baby. It’s just something serious. Just something serious?! Well, you know, another kind of relationship…
Yes…I’m beginning to understand you…both the same…I can’t believe such kind of bullshit!
A deep silence broke in between them. She could still hear the tone of his voice. It had been enough. She felt like a wild wolf in jail. After that, mixing shouts and tears, she had told him: “You wish i were another woman, but i can’t” After having said that, she left him alone, running into the isolated night.
One year ago…What had happened with her since that time? She couldn’t be sure about it. She had remained all the year long closed in herself. She had seen her friends a couple of times. She had been working hardly, and, in her free time, she had spent it watching movies at home, listening to the same songs again, again, and again. Sometimes she read books. She stood in front of her bookcase and she took some reading.
Even though she had never decided to be alone, she had done it perfectly. Last time she didn’t answer the phone anymore. Everybody who called her had to leave messages. After that she took her time choosing what to do with them.
A few months, or weeks or days ago… she couldn’t be sure about time; her phone had been ringing a lot of times. Nobody had left a message when the time to speak had begun. She was over. She couldn’t stop feeling that her life had no sense. She wanted to do something but the song of the phone didn’t let her do anything. She couldn’t put up with it. Then, suddenly, without consciousness about her acts, she answered the call. An unknown man’s voice was calling for help. She could feel a deep anguish in his voice. He was really hopeless. She thought to hang up immediately. But she didn’t do it. Instead of it, she kept on line, listening carefully. In spite of her willings to get away, something was keeping her up
Help please, help, a man’s voice whispered. Who is talking? I need your help, please.. How can i help you? Listening to what i have to say. Listening what? What i have to say.
They kept on a long silence. No one said anything. Suddenly in a deeper lower voice:
Are you going to help me? I don’t know if i can do it. I don’t know if i want to do it…It would be better to hang up the phone. Don’t do it…please. Now I ‘m feeling better. Maybe just the tone of your voice can help me. I don’t think so. How can you be so sure? And beginning to weep: Cause I never can help anyone. Oh! What a lovely tone. This is what you wanted fucking bastard…You make me feel sick. It’s enough! Fuck you man, FUCK YOU!
She had begun to come down. Giving in she hung up the phone.
One year ago…What was the meaning of time? Was the time a relative stuff?
Thinking about that she came closer to the window. The sunset was beginning, and, the small square was almost empty. A few children were playing with a dirty ball. A couple of kids were kissing each other slowly. An old woman was walking with a little dog. both of them had a freak hairdressing. In the street a young man, whose face looked like very hurried, was running from the right corner up to the left one. Nobody else was there except, of course, that homeless who lived in the park since the first time she opened the window.
She was very tired. She was bored of this kind of landscape. She left the window and sat down on her blue sofa. She had bought it three years ago. Since that day, every day, she sat on it as if it were the first time. She touched the blue cotton as slowly as a caress. Then she looked around the room. Her bookshelf was full of books and papers. Some day she had to tidy it up. But, to-day wasn’t the right one.
What could she do? She came in the small kitchen to prepare a cup of tea. There, nothing ever happened. The empty refrigerator and the few dishes over the table showed it enough. With her tea, she came back to the sofa and sat down there again. It would be fine to listen to any music she thought.
The Sony was on. Surely she had forgotten to turn it off the day before She didn’t have a lot of records because when she discovered anyone that she liked she could spend playing it several times since she found another one out. In spite of it she couldn’t choose anyone. The old wood bookcase that she had taken from her family’s house, the blue sofa, the Sony…that was almost her own world. There was also a plant. In spite of her efforts it insisted on staying alive.
What was up with her that day? The cup of tea went on her hand. It seemed as if she were looking for something. She got in her bedroom. The bed sheets were mixing with the clothes that she took off last night. A book whose title she had forgotten was laying on the wood floor.
She had also forgotten her thoughts. She left the cup of tea over the chair beside the bed and turned in watching the ceiling. Black and white. Everything there was black and white. When she moved to this flat she had guessed to have a black bedroom, her favourite color by that time. At last she had painted the middle of the ceiling and two walls in white. So the bedroom looked like a chessboard. She liked it. Moreover she was pretty glad with her big bed. Just for herself! That was great unless she had such kind of days…
The tea was becoming cold. So was she.
She had the green envelope since last week and, yet, it remained as close as when she had received it. She didn’t decide to open it and look into what it meant. She didn’t know what to do with it. Her hands were trembling. Just her address was written over the green paper. At the back, an unknown name, Sean Henson. Maybe because she was so bored…or by chance that day she did something different. Instead of keeping it carefully she tore the envelope in a wild way. A letter was there. She took it immediately. Her hands went on trembling, and her heart had begun to pound wildly. It doesn’t matter, she thought. Whatever will be! Letting a sigh out she began to read the letter.
To you:
Our time has come. I have waited for this moment for a long time. I have imagined the time to introduce myself a lot of times but I never thought to do it in this way. But, now, I don’t have another chance. I was always waiting for the right time, the right way,…you know. At last I had to decide to give you writing words. I know you like reading. Whenever I see you, you have a book in your hands…oh! Your hands…the same that now are holding my letter…Why do you read so much? Please, don’t begin to think…just, listen to me…read my words…You must be thinking who I am. Don’t worry about it. I just want to know you. Well, in some sense I really know you. You are always there…always. Neither so far, nor so near. In spite of it you have never found me out. How is it possible? You are always watching the world out, but just the furthest one. Through your window…through your books…you keep in touch with a very far world. What’s the meaning of it? Life is going quickly and you remain inside your own mind! Oh!…I’m very sorry…excuse me…I didn’t want to tell you such kind of things but I can’t understand you. You are so beautiful and I can’t put up with this wait. I just need to listen to the tone of your voice. Surely it’s as sweet as the look in your eyes when you watch the sunset through the window…But now the sunset is ending.
Yours.
Sean.
Sean Henson…Who was he? Never had she heard that name before…She looked at the window…He was right…The sunset was ending. She could still hear the laugh of the children in the square. In a few minutes, when the night came in, they should come back home. There, they would take a bath, surely. Clear water mixed with colour soap. The bath tub would be full of toys. What a funny! The laughs were going away and the silence of the street began to fall in a very deep way, coming in through the window. He was right…She was living in the furthest world she had ever imagined.
He seemed to be close. Where was he? She took the directory and looked the name up. It was easy to find it. Unaware of her acts she picked the phone up.
What would they talk about? She wanted to look like a pretty woman, not like a smart one.
In some sense she was as common as her name. Laura. Neither so beautiful, nor so ugly. Black hair and eyes. A harmonical body into delicate manners. She liked to be in, putting urban’s clothes on herself., usually dressed in jeans. She could be the coolest lady or the most arrogant one. It depended. People who were in front of her could change her smile, the tone of her voice, the look of her eyes. Then she suffered too many changes in different circumstances.
The typical woman who goes by carelessly among a crowd. But if someone stares at her, he surely becomes surprised. At the end, everybody who knew her was pretty interested in her. She didn’t like to speak a lot. She enjoyed listening to other people’s speech. Since she was a little girl she liked to have her own world, full of books and movies. She had liked to stand herself for some character but she would never have found any special one. Instead of it she had practiced the knowledge about herself. Her possibilities. Even her own limits.
She had never thought who she wanted to be. Simply, she had been what she could. She was a bit shy. She needed to take her time to feel trust. Afterwards she could open herself, even looked like a funny woman. Hence if she felt threatened, she could become a wild beast. She knew it perfectly. She hoped not to feel such kind of feelings.
Two unknown people. An easy conversation about movies or books. But when she told him about Adriano’s memories, one of her favourite books, he would see her like a freak or like a fool. And, of course he would forget to ask her phone number.
Had he ever heard the title? Even more, had he thought anytime about death? Would she be able to talk with him about this kind of things? She wasn’t sure about it. Maybe she would have to keep in silence, like an innocent lady, watching his speech out, putting her thoughts away. Was she really ready? Whatever!, she thought. She turned the lights off, locked the door and got out to the street. Maybe he wouldn’t come to the date and her life would go on her lonely way.
She didn’t want to have another bad experience. She remembered the last one. One year ago she had known a man. She had felt they had common things. They could spend time together talking about different points. They liked the same movies and the same literature. He was a nice chance. Of what? She couldn’t know it. .Everything was going in the right way. They began to spend more time together. She had never said anything about her love’s difficulties, but surely, he could imagine her kind of troubles. So she had decided not to tell him who she was in reality. Even though they were meeting frequently, no words about engagement had been said. . She could breath in calmly. Yet. A cold rainy night they had gone to a party.
What do you want to drink? I don’t know…maybe a beer. Well, both of us are going to drink a beer. Do you want a beer? Why are you going to drink it if you never liked it? Today i want the same than you. Both the same…. Yes, both the same
That night he kept in silence. Something in the air was announcing storm. Suddenly he said the magic words: “I want something serious with you”
What‘s the meaning of something serious? Something serious, you know. I don’t know anything about this stuff. Take it easy, baby. It’s just something serious. Just something serious?! Well, you know, another kind of relationship…
Yes…I’m beginning to understand you…both the same…I can’t believe such kind of bullshit!
A deep silence broke in between them. She could still hear the tone of his voice. It had been enough. She felt like a wild wolf in jail. After that, mixing shouts and tears, she had told him: “You wish i were another woman, but i can’t” After having said that, she left him alone, running into the isolated night.
One year ago…What had happened with her since that time? She couldn’t be sure about it. She had remained all the year long closed in herself. She had seen her friends a couple of times. She had been working hardly, and, in her free time, she had spent it watching movies at home, listening to the same songs again, again, and again. Sometimes she read books. She stood in front of her bookcase and she took some reading.
Even though she had never decided to be alone, she had done it perfectly. Last time she didn’t answer the phone anymore. Everybody who called her had to leave messages. After that she took her time choosing what to do with them.
A few months, or weeks or days ago… she couldn’t be sure about time; her phone had been ringing a lot of times. Nobody had left a message when the time to speak had begun. She was over. She couldn’t stop feeling that her life had no sense. She wanted to do something but the song of the phone didn’t let her do anything. She couldn’t put up with it. Then, suddenly, without consciousness about her acts, she answered the call. An unknown man’s voice was calling for help. She could feel a deep anguish in his voice. He was really hopeless. She thought to hang up immediately. But she didn’t do it. Instead of it, she kept on line, listening carefully. In spite of her willings to get away, something was keeping her up
Help please, help, a man’s voice whispered. Who is talking? I need your help, please.. How can i help you? Listening to what i have to say. Listening what? What i have to say.
They kept on a long silence. No one said anything. Suddenly in a deeper lower voice:
Are you going to help me? I don’t know if i can do it. I don’t know if i want to do it…It would be better to hang up the phone. Don’t do it…please. Now I ‘m feeling better. Maybe just the tone of your voice can help me. I don’t think so. How can you be so sure? And beginning to weep: Cause I never can help anyone. Oh! What a lovely tone. This is what you wanted fucking bastard…You make me feel sick. It’s enough! Fuck you man, FUCK YOU!
She had begun to come down. Giving in she hung up the phone.
One year ago…What was the meaning of time? Was the time a relative stuff?
Thinking about that she came closer to the window. The sunset was beginning, and, the small square was almost empty. A few children were playing with a dirty ball. A couple of kids were kissing each other slowly. An old woman was walking with a little dog. both of them had a freak hairdressing. In the street a young man, whose face looked like very hurried, was running from the right corner up to the left one. Nobody else was there except, of course, that homeless who lived in the park since the first time she opened the window.
She was very tired. She was bored of this kind of landscape. She left the window and sat down on her blue sofa. She had bought it three years ago. Since that day, every day, she sat on it as if it were the first time. She touched the blue cotton as slowly as a caress. Then she looked around the room. Her bookshelf was full of books and papers. Some day she had to tidy it up. But, to-day wasn’t the right one.
What could she do? She came in the small kitchen to prepare a cup of tea. There, nothing ever happened. The empty refrigerator and the few dishes over the table showed it enough. With her tea, she came back to the sofa and sat down there again. It would be fine to listen to any music she thought.
The Sony was on. Surely she had forgotten to turn it off the day before She didn’t have a lot of records because when she discovered anyone that she liked she could spend playing it several times since she found another one out. In spite of it she couldn’t choose anyone. The old wood bookcase that she had taken from her family’s house, the blue sofa, the Sony…that was almost her own world. There was also a plant. In spite of her efforts it insisted on staying alive.
What was up with her that day? The cup of tea went on her hand. It seemed as if she were looking for something. She got in her bedroom. The bed sheets were mixing with the clothes that she took off last night. A book whose title she had forgotten was laying on the wood floor.
She had also forgotten her thoughts. She left the cup of tea over the chair beside the bed and turned in watching the ceiling. Black and white. Everything there was black and white. When she moved to this flat she had guessed to have a black bedroom, her favourite color by that time. At last she had painted the middle of the ceiling and two walls in white. So the bedroom looked like a chessboard. She liked it. Moreover she was pretty glad with her big bed. Just for herself! That was great unless she had such kind of days…
The tea was becoming cold. So was she.
She had the green envelope since last week and, yet, it remained as close as when she had received it. She didn’t decide to open it and look into what it meant. She didn’t know what to do with it. Her hands were trembling. Just her address was written over the green paper. At the back, an unknown name, Sean Henson. Maybe because she was so bored…or by chance that day she did something different. Instead of keeping it carefully she tore the envelope in a wild way. A letter was there. She took it immediately. Her hands went on trembling, and her heart had begun to pound wildly. It doesn’t matter, she thought. Whatever will be! Letting a sigh out she began to read the letter.
To you:
Our time has come. I have waited for this moment for a long time. I have imagined the time to introduce myself a lot of times but I never thought to do it in this way. But, now, I don’t have another chance. I was always waiting for the right time, the right way,…you know. At last I had to decide to give you writing words. I know you like reading. Whenever I see you, you have a book in your hands…oh! Your hands…the same that now are holding my letter…Why do you read so much? Please, don’t begin to think…just, listen to me…read my words…You must be thinking who I am. Don’t worry about it. I just want to know you. Well, in some sense I really know you. You are always there…always. Neither so far, nor so near. In spite of it you have never found me out. How is it possible? You are always watching the world out, but just the furthest one. Through your window…through your books…you keep in touch with a very far world. What’s the meaning of it? Life is going quickly and you remain inside your own mind! Oh!…I’m very sorry…excuse me…I didn’t want to tell you such kind of things but I can’t understand you. You are so beautiful and I can’t put up with this wait. I just need to listen to the tone of your voice. Surely it’s as sweet as the look in your eyes when you watch the sunset through the window…But now the sunset is ending.
Yours.
Sean.
Sean Henson…Who was he? Never had she heard that name before…She looked at the window…He was right…The sunset was ending. She could still hear the laugh of the children in the square. In a few minutes, when the night came in, they should come back home. There, they would take a bath, surely. Clear water mixed with colour soap. The bath tub would be full of toys. What a funny! The laughs were going away and the silence of the street began to fall in a very deep way, coming in through the window. He was right…She was living in the furthest world she had ever imagined.
He seemed to be close. Where was he? She took the directory and looked the name up. It was easy to find it. Unaware of her acts she picked the phone up.
viernes, 8 de octubre de 2010
She didn't look at me
For M
It was a rainy Saturday night when M and G came home. We hadn’t been together for many weeks. Nick, my son and i were at home. When they arrived i was preparing the bath for Timmy. I had been out all the afternoon, so i had willing to play with my little boy for a while.
M and G were pretty familiar friends. I knew them and they knew me. M was one of my best friends. We had been friends since we were kids. A lot of things had happened in our lives, good things and bad things. We had helped each other many times. We had a full-blown relationship. We accepted the whole differences between us, pretending not to shift each other. When we had some troubles we used to talk about it in a serious and sincere tone. G, her husband, liked pinching other people. In some sense he was this kind of people who enjoy saying what they want to, looking for every pinpoint on the other person, and taking him in without taking care of anything. Sometimes i had felt i couldn’t put up with his style anymore. But, he was my best friend’s husband and i loved her. So i always had tried to overlay his attitude.
When i finished with my son’s bath i came over them. They were looking for some place to buy our dinner. They began to phone to different places but, unfortunately nowhere was giving away meals that night, except such places where you could find just pizza. But nobody felt like eating pizza that night. And we didn’t have any meal at home. So, somebody had to go away to get anything to eat.
No matter, i’ m going to take the car and to bring the dinner. G, do you want to come with me? Nick was a great host for that time. He could do this kind of little sacrifices without any complaint. Perhaps he didn’t feel it like one. I did. I saw the whole of his offer like a sacrifice in some sense.
No, i prefer to stay here. Are you going to go alone? It’s raining…Don’t you prefer to change the plans? I asked. Ok, i will do it.
The three of us sat on the sofa while my son was playing with his trains. Somebody had brought some cans of beer which we were beginning to drink.
A few minutes later Nick’s voice was on the phone. Of course, there was no place open. It was too late. The storm had left part of the town with no electricity and a lot of streets under water. A huge rainy night. No doubts, we had to change plans. I told them that. Then, suddenly, M said to me: what’s going on? what’s the matter with you?, what a fucking face you have on! Yes, what a fucking face! G assured. Are you sure? I didn’t realize it. Trust me, i hadn’t realized it.. Absolutely, both replied at the same time.
Oh, let me see. Perhaps you are right.
After some minutes i broke the silence: maybe you are right…Do you want to know about the reason of my fucking face? Well, if you want to, i will tell you. And, letting a sigh out…: I had preferred someone had gone out with Nick. That’s all.
A deep silence broke in among us. We had stopped talking. Even Timmy kept playing without any word. He had put his little wooden train away. He loved trains. He could spend a lot of time playing with them. Many times he went to the train station and he could keep on there, standing in front of the railroads, waiting for different trains to show up. That night he had stopped playing with them. Every engine was laying on different places on the floor. He had taken his paintings and a white page where he was beginning a drawing. In another situation, if he had kept in silence, i would have thought he was up to something. That was not the case.
Don’t worry, M. It’s not our fault. It’s not our trouble. She has to deal with it, it’s her trouble. Don’t care about it. Just forget it! G assured. G was always assuring everything. Since i met him, eight years ago, i had never heard a little doubt coming from him. Even more, he was an “intellectual” man, or should i say he liked to look like one. So he loved reasons more than feelings, ideas more than material things, data more than experience. He used to show himself like a reasonable man despite his unreasonable manners. Until that moment i had accepted many things, but he was crossing the narrow line. I couldn’t allow it. I didn’t want to allow it.
What are you talking about? Do you mean it’s my trouble? Why did you ask me what’s going on? If you asked me, now it is also your stuff. And you M, why do you keep in silence? Don’t you have anything to do with it? I asked staring at her. M, the journalist was keeping in silence. She was this kind of women who knew how to make questions. Even more she enjoyed talking with different people, trying to understand them, knowing them. She was a professional, even in her social life. She liked thinking different matters and making comments about everything. She used to take her time before talking. Maybe because of that she was so intelligent and sensitive.
I don’t know…I wanted to have a good time, and now we are arguing…should i say, you are arguing, both of you are so similar…I don’t know.
Did she really believe in that comparison? Was she talking seriously? Whatever, we were getting in a slab and heavy way. We could fall in a pit despite we didn’t want to. Things had turned dark. Maybe because of that she was comparing two complete different persons. In such kind of darkness she didn’t look at me anymore.
It was a rainy Saturday night when M and G came home. We hadn’t been together for many weeks. Nick, my son and i were at home. When they arrived i was preparing the bath for Timmy. I had been out all the afternoon, so i had willing to play with my little boy for a while.
M and G were pretty familiar friends. I knew them and they knew me. M was one of my best friends. We had been friends since we were kids. A lot of things had happened in our lives, good things and bad things. We had helped each other many times. We had a full-blown relationship. We accepted the whole differences between us, pretending not to shift each other. When we had some troubles we used to talk about it in a serious and sincere tone. G, her husband, liked pinching other people. In some sense he was this kind of people who enjoy saying what they want to, looking for every pinpoint on the other person, and taking him in without taking care of anything. Sometimes i had felt i couldn’t put up with his style anymore. But, he was my best friend’s husband and i loved her. So i always had tried to overlay his attitude.
When i finished with my son’s bath i came over them. They were looking for some place to buy our dinner. They began to phone to different places but, unfortunately nowhere was giving away meals that night, except such places where you could find just pizza. But nobody felt like eating pizza that night. And we didn’t have any meal at home. So, somebody had to go away to get anything to eat.
No matter, i’ m going to take the car and to bring the dinner. G, do you want to come with me? Nick was a great host for that time. He could do this kind of little sacrifices without any complaint. Perhaps he didn’t feel it like one. I did. I saw the whole of his offer like a sacrifice in some sense.
No, i prefer to stay here. Are you going to go alone? It’s raining…Don’t you prefer to change the plans? I asked. Ok, i will do it.
The three of us sat on the sofa while my son was playing with his trains. Somebody had brought some cans of beer which we were beginning to drink.
A few minutes later Nick’s voice was on the phone. Of course, there was no place open. It was too late. The storm had left part of the town with no electricity and a lot of streets under water. A huge rainy night. No doubts, we had to change plans. I told them that. Then, suddenly, M said to me: what’s going on? what’s the matter with you?, what a fucking face you have on! Yes, what a fucking face! G assured. Are you sure? I didn’t realize it. Trust me, i hadn’t realized it.. Absolutely, both replied at the same time.
Oh, let me see. Perhaps you are right.
After some minutes i broke the silence: maybe you are right…Do you want to know about the reason of my fucking face? Well, if you want to, i will tell you. And, letting a sigh out…: I had preferred someone had gone out with Nick. That’s all.
A deep silence broke in among us. We had stopped talking. Even Timmy kept playing without any word. He had put his little wooden train away. He loved trains. He could spend a lot of time playing with them. Many times he went to the train station and he could keep on there, standing in front of the railroads, waiting for different trains to show up. That night he had stopped playing with them. Every engine was laying on different places on the floor. He had taken his paintings and a white page where he was beginning a drawing. In another situation, if he had kept in silence, i would have thought he was up to something. That was not the case.
Don’t worry, M. It’s not our fault. It’s not our trouble. She has to deal with it, it’s her trouble. Don’t care about it. Just forget it! G assured. G was always assuring everything. Since i met him, eight years ago, i had never heard a little doubt coming from him. Even more, he was an “intellectual” man, or should i say he liked to look like one. So he loved reasons more than feelings, ideas more than material things, data more than experience. He used to show himself like a reasonable man despite his unreasonable manners. Until that moment i had accepted many things, but he was crossing the narrow line. I couldn’t allow it. I didn’t want to allow it.
What are you talking about? Do you mean it’s my trouble? Why did you ask me what’s going on? If you asked me, now it is also your stuff. And you M, why do you keep in silence? Don’t you have anything to do with it? I asked staring at her. M, the journalist was keeping in silence. She was this kind of women who knew how to make questions. Even more she enjoyed talking with different people, trying to understand them, knowing them. She was a professional, even in her social life. She liked thinking different matters and making comments about everything. She used to take her time before talking. Maybe because of that she was so intelligent and sensitive.
I don’t know…I wanted to have a good time, and now we are arguing…should i say, you are arguing, both of you are so similar…I don’t know.
Did she really believe in that comparison? Was she talking seriously? Whatever, we were getting in a slab and heavy way. We could fall in a pit despite we didn’t want to. Things had turned dark. Maybe because of that she was comparing two complete different persons. In such kind of darkness she didn’t look at me anymore.
viernes, 1 de octubre de 2010
The World of the Wood
Still today when i hear a fire alarm i can feel my heart pounding wildly. This story began when i was around four. For that time i lived with my family, my parents, two elder brothers, and my grandma in a house which was built in a first floor. Below it there was a furniture-factory. It was called The World of the Wood. The house was a middle-class one, with nothing particularly important. Common furniture as common as the rest of the things that were there. There was a big kitchen, where my mother used to prepare delicious cakes. At the back a middle court, where my grandma had her plants and some time she had also had a little yellow bird in a small cage which had been eaten by an unknown cat. (after that she only kept the plants). Finally, three bedrooms, a hall with a big mirror, and a living room with an enormous table. I spent all my childhood there, so a lot of things happened there.
One day i was in the kitchen with my mother, cooking something surely, when we saw a tremendous black smoke coming from the court. We went out and we realized it was rising from the factory. When i saw the look on my mother’s eyes I felt in danger, that something was wrong.
One day i was in the kitchen with my mother, cooking something surely, when we saw a tremendous black smoke coming from the court. We went out and we realized it was rising from the factory. When i saw the look on my mother’s eyes I felt in danger, that something was wrong.
My mother was a special woman. She was that kind of people who used to live life in a heavy way. She used to turn nervous very easily. The first sign of her transformation happened on her face, more precisely, on her eyes. When something disturbed her, the looking of her eyes changed completely. Her brown eyes began to shine in a peculiar way until they stared at someone. Then, they became terrified. The horror could be seen on them. That morning she looked just like that.
Some seconds later we were waking up one of my brothers, he was still asleep. I have to say it was hard work to do with him generally: get up you! What’s going on? Come on, wake up! Don’t bother me mom…please… Suddenly my mother took the sheets from my brother’s bed out and threw them on the floor. What’s up? The factory is burning. The-fac-to-ry? Yes…The World of the Wood…is burning…the whole world seems to be burning… Oh…yes…that’s the reason i felt too hot, said my brother while he began to put his clothes on.
The three of us went out to the street. A lot of people were there. I can’t be sure if there were too many people, but i felt as if a crowd were around my home. The firemen had begun to work. My mother took my hand tightly and left me in Francis’s house. He lived with his family -parents and a little sister- on the opposite side of the street. During those summer afternoons we had spent a lot of time together riding on our bikes across the neighborhood. That time we sat on the threshold and kept there almost the day long.
That is the last image i remember since the smoke broke out until i see me sitting in the kitchen, keeping in silence, dumb. But this is another story that deserves another place.
The burning of the furniture factory is pretty different than other kind of burnings. It seems as if the whole world were burning. So is the fire alarm. It is very different than other alarms. I mean, i can recognize it perfectly. The others have a different sound. When i hear an ambulance or a police alarm, nothing really happens with me. Even more, i can’t be sure about what kind of alarm is. Nevertheless, when i listen to a fire alarm, everything changes inside me. My body begins to shake, my heart begins to pound strongly, and my whole head becomes silent as if it were dumb. On that occasion a horror feeling traps me heavily. This dumb sound really upsets me. This sound rarely leaves me alone. I mean, i can feel myself completely alone in front of a terrible danger, which comes to me as if it were a ghost. Like a ghost of a death person whom I had sometime loved. Just like that this ghost comes to me, it meets me, but it can never touch me, entirely.
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