Saudade
Como ya os habréis dado cuenta últimamente no tengo tiempo para escribir. Pero bueno he tenido que hacer un escrito para clase. Y ya que estoy... pos os lo dejo...
The sun was filtering into the room, evading the curtains it shined over the bed. Eventually it woke me up, since I was a child I have never been able to sleep when there is light. I tried to turn, close my eyes and continue sleeping but there was something wrong. It was not my room. It was not my bed. I touched my neck, the chain was still there, it was not a dream, and so I looked around. In fact it was someone else’s bed, someone else’s room. And she was sleeping beside me.
I looked at her, trying to recall her name. It certainly started with and A. Anne. Yes, that was it. Anne. Anne had one of the most beautiful eyes I had seen in a while. Her eyes were like two deep pots of honey. They were warm, comfortable, sweet. The moment I saw her eyes I wanted to know her. So I ordered two bourbons and approached her. Casually, almost talking to myself I said:
“Did you know that Four Roses was named after a woman?”
I got her attention, she smiled, unsure of how to answer that question. So I followed my monologue.
“There was once a young lady that went to a bar. She asked the bartender for a drink. That man fell for her, almost instantly. He served her an aged whisky, the most expensive drink he had. The woman drank it, and left. While leaving she dropped a handkerchief, with four rouses labeled on it. The man was so intensely in love with her that when he found the handkerchief he thought that she would come for it. Then he spent the rest of his life distilling an alcohol that would suit her. He enveloped the bottle with the handkerchief, waiting.”
She looks at me, and then looks at the drinks that I am holding. If she wanted to kick me that was the moment, so after a pause I finish.
“When I saw you I couldn’t resist remembering that story. I would like to treat you to a drink, in memory of that man.”
Her eyes glow, with an internal smile, then for the first time since I approached her she allows me to hear her voice.
“Sure.”
After a few shots, a bottle would follow. After the introductions, the flirting would follow. And after the bar, her room would follow.
I reached for my clothes; they were all around the room. My pants were over a chair, my shirt was hanging from the door and my shoes were waiting for me at the entrance. After a few minutes I stand in the kitchen boiling tea. I let a mug of black tea by her bed and say, “Goodbye.”
At the elevator I check myself. I try to smile, but I have forgotten how to. I only get a grin from the mirror. I can remember once I saw a documentary about sociopaths. They said that the competitiveness of modern companies made them appear more often. They also provided examples of sociopathic conduct, so you can recognize one. At that time I was relieved, one of the traits of a sociopath is dressing properly. My clothes were a mess back then. Now they are not. Sometimes I scare myself.
The Show must go on! breaks my chain of thoughts. I check my phone. I had a text from Sue.
“I arrived yesterday. Do you want to meet? I will be at the beach till noon. You know where. See you.”
Sue was one of my oldest friends. She had been with me since my second year in high school, so it has been a long time. I decided to meet her. After a short walk I arrived to the beach. It had been ages since I saw the sea. I never liked it; I almost drowned when I was five. But I have missed it. The depth, the intensity. I missed that. How long has it been? It feels like ages.
Walking over the sand with shoes is an art. Many people would get their feet completely covered by sand. In fact is almost impossible. There was only one person that would be able to walk over the sand without trouble: Grandpa. And now he is gone. The rest of the world would confront their shoes soaked in sand but I was raised here. I take off my shoes and my socks. I walk with them in my hand while drifting over the dunes.
Sue was there, beside the rocks, protected from the wind. She was radiant. The bright yellow sand contrasted with the red of her towel which in turn contrasted with her tanned skin and her orange bikini. One of her arms is raised covering her face, so the sun would not disturb her. The roaring waves, the wind, everything feels so familiar. At that time it was not Sue; it was my sweetheart, my beloved, the one that completed “we.” I touch the chain around my neck, trying to capture those emotions, feel those feelings once again. But I’m unable to, what I remember are her eyes.
I approach Sue, trying to be unnoticed until I’m almost over her. Once there I extend my hand projecting some shade over her arm. After a few seconds she notices the change of temperature and moves. She makes a funny face, expecting to be blinded by the sun, her eyes almost closed looking at me trying to figure what I want. After a moment she fixes her dark eyes on me, and then recognizes me.
“Hey. How are you?”
“Fine.” As ever, I’m fine, just fine. After a short pause, I add “And you?”
“Quite well. Do you want to sit or do you prefer to have a bath? The water is warm.”
“The truth is that I’m not wearing a swimsuit now.”
“Oh, there was a time when that was not a problem,” she smirks at me. We only swam naked once, and normally I poke fun at her, not the other way around. “Weren’t you at home?”
I answer her smirk with another smirk. We have known each other for a long time, she knows what my smirk means. Perhaps she knows too well what it meant, because she asked me:
“Did you at least know her name?”
That was mean. Of course I know her name. I’m sure that it started with an… an E? Perhaps it was an A. It was a vowel, for sure.
“She had golden eyes.”
She looks at me with a sad face. She moves, sitting over the towel. Leaving me enough space to sit by her, and invites me to sit. I sit, like a good boy. She embraces me, she pushes my body against hers. I can smell the salt all over her skin. I can almost hear the beat inside her chest.
“Rachel also had golden eyes.”
I try to escape, to run away. I don’t want to be there. I don’t want to hear that. But I’m weak. She said the name. She said that name. Rachel. I can remember now. Her long hair dark as night without stars. Her skin white like the first snow of the season. Her eyes shining as two small suns. Her smell like a mixing of jasmine and olives. Her taste sweet and salty at the same time. A feeling of loneliness strikes my heart. Instinctively I raise a hand to my neck, to the chain that links me to my past. I gasp for air. I’m strong. I’m strong. I’m all right. I’m fine, as ever. Just fine.
Two arms embrace me tightly. They hold me. They surround me warmly. I hear a heartbeat. Pum, pum. Pum, pum. Pum, pum. Is it from Rachel? No. Rachel’s pace was different; her heart was like a tango. I can remember the first time I heard her heart.
We were alone, it was our first date. We had kissed so many times that it was impossible to count. My head was resting over her legs while she looked over the infinite. We stayed that way for a moment and then she caressed my neck. She loved touching my skin with her fingers. She used to say that if she were a vampire I should run from her. I would rather let her kill me. She made me raise my head while lowering hers, and then she kissed me. My head was awkwardly compressed against her chest. At first it was even uncomfortable. The only thing I could see was her dark hair falling like a cascade over me. The only thing that I could hear was her heart.
I look at Sue. She hugs me harder. She says it’s okay. It’s okay. Everything is fine. Don’t worry. Don’t worry.
“I’m fine.”
She does not believe me. She stills hugs me like I’m trying to run away from her.
“I’m fine.”
She lets go of me. I don’t run away. I don’t have anywhere to hide. She looks at me and tries to cheer me up.
“It’s just that you have a really sad face when anyone mentions Ra… her.”
I try to smile at Sue, but I have forgotten how to smile. Rachel loved my smile. She would poke me for a day only to make me smile.
“Don’t worry I won’t cry. I didn’t cry when she left, I’m fine.”
“You should try to let her go. There are other women, you know that.”
I have tried. When Rachel left I stayed inside myself for two months, I wouldn’t speak aloud, trying to recall her voice. After that, one day, I started hunting. There are other women, but there is no one like my woman. No one.
“I’m fine, don’t worry. It’s all right, I only feel overwhelmed sometimes.”
She knows me. She knows quite well that I’m just fine. That if she pushes a little more she could break me in a manner I wouldn’t be able to stand. She looks at me, hugs me another time, just in case, and then says:
“Well aren’t you hungry? You should treat me to lunch.”
We had lunch at a seafood restaurant. I have never really enjoyed seafood, but I have to admit that it has a flavor from home. We had some rice, shrimp and white wine. I listened to Sue, like it was the first time. She was an archeologist; she had been investigating some old ruins far from town. She still dated that guy, John, the one she met at a party few months ago.
After lunch we went for a walk. So many places. So many memories. It was like walking back in time. “Do you remember when Matt climbed to that tree and jumped over you?” “Do you remember when Jess and I would hide at that store so you wouldn’t be able to find us?” “Do you remember when you decided to arrive half an hour late to our date just to give me a lesson of punctuality?”
We lost ourselves in time for the afternoon. Before we realized it the shadows were long. So we went to my apartment. She went directly to the fridge. She didn’t pay attention to the new sofa or the curtains. She opened it and the white light surrounded her. She took some milk and the apple pie that I keep for special occasions. Well, that was certainly special. With an expert hand she found the mugs. She took one without even looking at it.
“Sue… That’s my mug.”
She blushed for a second, and looked at the mug. It was an old souvenir, brought from some cheap shop. It was red and it had a message printed on it. “I miss you.” Rachel gave me that mug on our first anniversary. I raised a hand to my neck. She also gave me the chain then.
Sue picks another mug. This one is purple, and has tiny white spirals painted over it. My sister bought that mug so whenever she came she would have something to drink. I don’t mind if Sue uses that, she is like a sister.
“I know that you don’t like coffee but…”
Sue loves coffee. I have never enjoyed its sour taste. But I have coffee, somewhere. I search for it for a minute before I find it, hidden behind the flour. I have not seen this package in a long time. Café de Colombia. I give it to Sue, who looks weirdly at me.
“Hers.”
She understands. She opens the package carefully and with a spoon takes some of the brown powder. A mountain of coffee rises over the milk like an isle on the sea. Little by little it is engulfed by the liquid which in turn starts to turn brown. With a few turns of the spoon, Sue achieves a perfect mixing.
We sit at the kitchen table, each one of us holding our mug with the apple pie in front of us. Well, part of it. Sue is avidly eating a piece.
“You know, the first time you cooked this pie I thought that if you weren’t one of my best friends, I would fuck you?”
I knew that she loved the apple pie. But I didn’t know that she loved it that much. She finishes a slice, and takes another one.
“You know that she loved you, don’t you?”
Of course I know that. That’s not the problem.
“Yes. You can say her name; I’m fine.”
Sue takes a deep breath, she feels unsure about she what she is going to say, slowly pronouncing every word carefully she states.
“Rachel loved you, with all her heart. She wouldn’t want to see you suffering. You should try to find someone to love.”
I look at Sue like it is the first time I see her. I’m not suffering. I’m fine. I don’t need anyone. I love her. I have so many happy memories of both of us. I won’t let them go.
“I have tried but I just can’t. I can’t be with another person. I can’t establish contact with people. It is just that if I do that I would forget her, and I don’t want to.”
Sue smiles at me. Rachel used to smile at me that way. After that smile she would mess up my hair remembering that she was a lot more stubborn than I, that I would never be able to defeat her stubbornness.
“You’re the most stupid and stubborn person that I have ever met. Why is so hard for you to believe in love?”
For the first time in years something that is not a grin, not even a smirk flashes on my lips. A warm sensation pounds in my chest. The chain around my necks feels lighter. I look at Sue with glittering eyes. I’m smiling. I probably would have scared another person but Sue has been with me for a long time. She was with me when I still could smile. So she only listens to me.
“I believe in love. Rachel was my soul mate and now she is gone. I love her more than I love myself. I’m a rational person I know that eventually I would find comfort in other arms but I won’t ever forget her. I will never stop loving her.”
I realize that it is the first time I actually said Rachel’s name aloud. I soak my smile in tears.
Es un poco largo... pero bueno, ha sido mi trabajo de un par de días.
The sun was filtering into the room, evading the curtains it shined over the bed. Eventually it woke me up, since I was a child I have never been able to sleep when there is light. I tried to turn, close my eyes and continue sleeping but there was something wrong. It was not my room. It was not my bed. I touched my neck, the chain was still there, it was not a dream, and so I looked around. In fact it was someone else’s bed, someone else’s room. And she was sleeping beside me.
I looked at her, trying to recall her name. It certainly started with and A. Anne. Yes, that was it. Anne. Anne had one of the most beautiful eyes I had seen in a while. Her eyes were like two deep pots of honey. They were warm, comfortable, sweet. The moment I saw her eyes I wanted to know her. So I ordered two bourbons and approached her. Casually, almost talking to myself I said:
“Did you know that Four Roses was named after a woman?”
I got her attention, she smiled, unsure of how to answer that question. So I followed my monologue.
“There was once a young lady that went to a bar. She asked the bartender for a drink. That man fell for her, almost instantly. He served her an aged whisky, the most expensive drink he had. The woman drank it, and left. While leaving she dropped a handkerchief, with four rouses labeled on it. The man was so intensely in love with her that when he found the handkerchief he thought that she would come for it. Then he spent the rest of his life distilling an alcohol that would suit her. He enveloped the bottle with the handkerchief, waiting.”
She looks at me, and then looks at the drinks that I am holding. If she wanted to kick me that was the moment, so after a pause I finish.
“When I saw you I couldn’t resist remembering that story. I would like to treat you to a drink, in memory of that man.”
Her eyes glow, with an internal smile, then for the first time since I approached her she allows me to hear her voice.
“Sure.”
After a few shots, a bottle would follow. After the introductions, the flirting would follow. And after the bar, her room would follow.
I reached for my clothes; they were all around the room. My pants were over a chair, my shirt was hanging from the door and my shoes were waiting for me at the entrance. After a few minutes I stand in the kitchen boiling tea. I let a mug of black tea by her bed and say, “Goodbye.”
At the elevator I check myself. I try to smile, but I have forgotten how to. I only get a grin from the mirror. I can remember once I saw a documentary about sociopaths. They said that the competitiveness of modern companies made them appear more often. They also provided examples of sociopathic conduct, so you can recognize one. At that time I was relieved, one of the traits of a sociopath is dressing properly. My clothes were a mess back then. Now they are not. Sometimes I scare myself.
The Show must go on! breaks my chain of thoughts. I check my phone. I had a text from Sue.
“I arrived yesterday. Do you want to meet? I will be at the beach till noon. You know where. See you.”
Sue was one of my oldest friends. She had been with me since my second year in high school, so it has been a long time. I decided to meet her. After a short walk I arrived to the beach. It had been ages since I saw the sea. I never liked it; I almost drowned when I was five. But I have missed it. The depth, the intensity. I missed that. How long has it been? It feels like ages.
Walking over the sand with shoes is an art. Many people would get their feet completely covered by sand. In fact is almost impossible. There was only one person that would be able to walk over the sand without trouble: Grandpa. And now he is gone. The rest of the world would confront their shoes soaked in sand but I was raised here. I take off my shoes and my socks. I walk with them in my hand while drifting over the dunes.
Sue was there, beside the rocks, protected from the wind. She was radiant. The bright yellow sand contrasted with the red of her towel which in turn contrasted with her tanned skin and her orange bikini. One of her arms is raised covering her face, so the sun would not disturb her. The roaring waves, the wind, everything feels so familiar. At that time it was not Sue; it was my sweetheart, my beloved, the one that completed “we.” I touch the chain around my neck, trying to capture those emotions, feel those feelings once again. But I’m unable to, what I remember are her eyes.
I approach Sue, trying to be unnoticed until I’m almost over her. Once there I extend my hand projecting some shade over her arm. After a few seconds she notices the change of temperature and moves. She makes a funny face, expecting to be blinded by the sun, her eyes almost closed looking at me trying to figure what I want. After a moment she fixes her dark eyes on me, and then recognizes me.
“Hey. How are you?”
“Fine.” As ever, I’m fine, just fine. After a short pause, I add “And you?”
“Quite well. Do you want to sit or do you prefer to have a bath? The water is warm.”
“The truth is that I’m not wearing a swimsuit now.”
“Oh, there was a time when that was not a problem,” she smirks at me. We only swam naked once, and normally I poke fun at her, not the other way around. “Weren’t you at home?”
I answer her smirk with another smirk. We have known each other for a long time, she knows what my smirk means. Perhaps she knows too well what it meant, because she asked me:
“Did you at least know her name?”
That was mean. Of course I know her name. I’m sure that it started with an… an E? Perhaps it was an A. It was a vowel, for sure.
“She had golden eyes.”
She looks at me with a sad face. She moves, sitting over the towel. Leaving me enough space to sit by her, and invites me to sit. I sit, like a good boy. She embraces me, she pushes my body against hers. I can smell the salt all over her skin. I can almost hear the beat inside her chest.
“Rachel also had golden eyes.”
I try to escape, to run away. I don’t want to be there. I don’t want to hear that. But I’m weak. She said the name. She said that name. Rachel. I can remember now. Her long hair dark as night without stars. Her skin white like the first snow of the season. Her eyes shining as two small suns. Her smell like a mixing of jasmine and olives. Her taste sweet and salty at the same time. A feeling of loneliness strikes my heart. Instinctively I raise a hand to my neck, to the chain that links me to my past. I gasp for air. I’m strong. I’m strong. I’m all right. I’m fine, as ever. Just fine.
Two arms embrace me tightly. They hold me. They surround me warmly. I hear a heartbeat. Pum, pum. Pum, pum. Pum, pum. Is it from Rachel? No. Rachel’s pace was different; her heart was like a tango. I can remember the first time I heard her heart.
We were alone, it was our first date. We had kissed so many times that it was impossible to count. My head was resting over her legs while she looked over the infinite. We stayed that way for a moment and then she caressed my neck. She loved touching my skin with her fingers. She used to say that if she were a vampire I should run from her. I would rather let her kill me. She made me raise my head while lowering hers, and then she kissed me. My head was awkwardly compressed against her chest. At first it was even uncomfortable. The only thing I could see was her dark hair falling like a cascade over me. The only thing that I could hear was her heart.
I look at Sue. She hugs me harder. She says it’s okay. It’s okay. Everything is fine. Don’t worry. Don’t worry.
“I’m fine.”
She does not believe me. She stills hugs me like I’m trying to run away from her.
“I’m fine.”
She lets go of me. I don’t run away. I don’t have anywhere to hide. She looks at me and tries to cheer me up.
“It’s just that you have a really sad face when anyone mentions Ra… her.”
I try to smile at Sue, but I have forgotten how to smile. Rachel loved my smile. She would poke me for a day only to make me smile.
“Don’t worry I won’t cry. I didn’t cry when she left, I’m fine.”
“You should try to let her go. There are other women, you know that.”
I have tried. When Rachel left I stayed inside myself for two months, I wouldn’t speak aloud, trying to recall her voice. After that, one day, I started hunting. There are other women, but there is no one like my woman. No one.
“I’m fine, don’t worry. It’s all right, I only feel overwhelmed sometimes.”
She knows me. She knows quite well that I’m just fine. That if she pushes a little more she could break me in a manner I wouldn’t be able to stand. She looks at me, hugs me another time, just in case, and then says:
“Well aren’t you hungry? You should treat me to lunch.”
We had lunch at a seafood restaurant. I have never really enjoyed seafood, but I have to admit that it has a flavor from home. We had some rice, shrimp and white wine. I listened to Sue, like it was the first time. She was an archeologist; she had been investigating some old ruins far from town. She still dated that guy, John, the one she met at a party few months ago.
After lunch we went for a walk. So many places. So many memories. It was like walking back in time. “Do you remember when Matt climbed to that tree and jumped over you?” “Do you remember when Jess and I would hide at that store so you wouldn’t be able to find us?” “Do you remember when you decided to arrive half an hour late to our date just to give me a lesson of punctuality?”
We lost ourselves in time for the afternoon. Before we realized it the shadows were long. So we went to my apartment. She went directly to the fridge. She didn’t pay attention to the new sofa or the curtains. She opened it and the white light surrounded her. She took some milk and the apple pie that I keep for special occasions. Well, that was certainly special. With an expert hand she found the mugs. She took one without even looking at it.
“Sue… That’s my mug.”
She blushed for a second, and looked at the mug. It was an old souvenir, brought from some cheap shop. It was red and it had a message printed on it. “I miss you.” Rachel gave me that mug on our first anniversary. I raised a hand to my neck. She also gave me the chain then.
Sue picks another mug. This one is purple, and has tiny white spirals painted over it. My sister bought that mug so whenever she came she would have something to drink. I don’t mind if Sue uses that, she is like a sister.
“I know that you don’t like coffee but…”
Sue loves coffee. I have never enjoyed its sour taste. But I have coffee, somewhere. I search for it for a minute before I find it, hidden behind the flour. I have not seen this package in a long time. Café de Colombia. I give it to Sue, who looks weirdly at me.
“Hers.”
She understands. She opens the package carefully and with a spoon takes some of the brown powder. A mountain of coffee rises over the milk like an isle on the sea. Little by little it is engulfed by the liquid which in turn starts to turn brown. With a few turns of the spoon, Sue achieves a perfect mixing.
We sit at the kitchen table, each one of us holding our mug with the apple pie in front of us. Well, part of it. Sue is avidly eating a piece.
“You know, the first time you cooked this pie I thought that if you weren’t one of my best friends, I would fuck you?”
I knew that she loved the apple pie. But I didn’t know that she loved it that much. She finishes a slice, and takes another one.
“You know that she loved you, don’t you?”
Of course I know that. That’s not the problem.
“Yes. You can say her name; I’m fine.”
Sue takes a deep breath, she feels unsure about she what she is going to say, slowly pronouncing every word carefully she states.
“Rachel loved you, with all her heart. She wouldn’t want to see you suffering. You should try to find someone to love.”
I look at Sue like it is the first time I see her. I’m not suffering. I’m fine. I don’t need anyone. I love her. I have so many happy memories of both of us. I won’t let them go.
“I have tried but I just can’t. I can’t be with another person. I can’t establish contact with people. It is just that if I do that I would forget her, and I don’t want to.”
Sue smiles at me. Rachel used to smile at me that way. After that smile she would mess up my hair remembering that she was a lot more stubborn than I, that I would never be able to defeat her stubbornness.
“You’re the most stupid and stubborn person that I have ever met. Why is so hard for you to believe in love?”
For the first time in years something that is not a grin, not even a smirk flashes on my lips. A warm sensation pounds in my chest. The chain around my necks feels lighter. I look at Sue with glittering eyes. I’m smiling. I probably would have scared another person but Sue has been with me for a long time. She was with me when I still could smile. So she only listens to me.
“I believe in love. Rachel was my soul mate and now she is gone. I love her more than I love myself. I’m a rational person I know that eventually I would find comfort in other arms but I won’t ever forget her. I will never stop loving her.”
I realize that it is the first time I actually said Rachel’s name aloud. I soak my smile in tears.
Es un poco largo... pero bueno, ha sido mi trabajo de un par de días.