Cleaning Days

The last one to make it in is usually a kid. Bright eyes surrounded by dirt. I close the door after him. Sometimes right after switching off the lights, before I open the valves, I think about them. They do not know. I do. Am I a monster? Somebody else would close the door. Somebody else would switch off the lights. Somebody else would open the valves. I have a wife. I have a son and a daughter. They tease each other all the time. I miss them. First the silence. Have you ever listen to it? Whenever this ends I will be back home. As it is for now, I better be on this side of the door. I hate myself. This is my job. One day my son is going to ask. One day I am going to lie. Am I the only one? She likes to dance. She is dancing around the house all the time.

- Yo!

- What?

- What's wrong with you? You're like gone. Open the valves and let's go have some dinner before the cleaning.

Chamomile

It started as a tiny lie. Not even that. It was not even a lie. It was a hidden truth. But that was a while ago. Little by little the tiny lie became more and more. Snowball effect they call it. It was too late now to undo what he had done. That is what he thought. Too late to tell her. He was not ready to take her reaction. He did not want that responsibility. The feeling would kill him. He could have thought about that before, couldn't he? Only then he understood how thin the border between sanity and insanity is. Thin and red. He saw himself killing her. Problems can be faced, ignored, or deleted. Deletion did not look impossible anymore. He could poison her. She loved chamomile tea. He could get rid of the body overnight, cut it into pieces and let alligators finish the job in the everglades. Black waste plastic bags. The worst part would come later. And the Oscar goes to. Was he crazy? As crazy as all those people in the accident and crime reports. What is the difference between thinking about it and not? A red thin line, maybe? Was he already insane? It started as a tiny lie. It just started as a tiny lie. He stopped pedaling.

"Hello," she was waiting at the door.

"Hello! I went for a ride," walking his bike towards her.

"I bought ice cream."

"Ice cream sound delicious. How was your day, darling?"

"Nothing new. I brought also chamomile. Last time I finished it," he kissed her briefly in the cheek.

"It's curious how I was just thinking about chamomile..."

Pasará en New York City

Hacía tiempo que no se iba de vacaciones. Recordaba con nostalgia tiempos pasados en los que había recorrido el mundo a bordo de un espíritu humanitario que ahora vivía ensimismado. ¿Por qué New York City? Ni él mismo lo sabía. Tenía buenos recuerdos de la ciudad. Dos veces se había perdido ya en ella. Una solo, la otra acompañado. Recuerdos agridulces mientras pisaba la quinta avenida por tercera vez. La marabunta. La vio por casualidad, su teléfono móvil en una mano, su café en la otra, un bolso a la espalda.

"¡Tú!" No se percató y continuó su marcha.

"¡Vanessa!" Entonces sí, se giró.

"¿Juan?" Sorprendida de verlo.

"Sí, soy yo. ¿Me recuerdas?"

"Sí," tímidamente, contradiciendo el entusiasmo contenido de sus ojos.

"¿Qué haces por aquí?"

"Trabajo en la Universidad, ¿y tú?" Un breve suspiro de incertidumbre antes de mirar el reloj.

"Estoy de vacaciones. Volví a España hace mucho tiempo. ¿Cuánto hace que no nos veíamos?"

"Lo siento Juan, me tengo que ir, he quedado con mi marido y llego tarde, como siempre. ¿Estás solo?"

"Sí, pero no te preocupes. En cualquier caso, ha sido un placer cruzarme contigo. De verdad, un placer," su voz, nostalgia.

Ella agachó la cabeza incómoda y se despidió torpemente. Él la vio alejarse.

"¡Vanessa!" Sorprendido.

"¿Sí?"

"Nada, que te quiero, pero eso ya da igual," susurro a gritos.

Dio una patada al suelo y se acercó a él y le besó en la mejilla. Sonrieron una última vez como cuando el tiempo los erizaba y las nubes no eran nubes.

"Yo también, pero como tu bien dices, eso ya da igual."

Se alejó de nuevo, esta vez sí, para siempre.

Normas para mirarse

Primero debe uno sentarse delante de un espejo. Es mucho mejor sentarse, sobre todo si es la primera vez que uno lo intenta. Es difícil mantenerse de pie si uno no tiene práctica. A partir de aquí la idea es sencilla. Primero contempla tu imagen en el espejo para inmediatamente después cruzar tus ojos en busca de tu nariz. Mantén esa posición hasta que deje de ser incómoda. Deberías todavía ser capaz de ver, que no mirar, tu imagen borrosa en el espejo. A continuación, en lugar de volver a la posición inicial de tus ojos, sigue cruzándolos hasta que tu imagen borrosa en el espejo desaparezca por completo y te reciba la oscuridad. Oscuridad que, eso sí, dura bien poco. Un esfuerzo más antes de finalmente gozar de lo nunca visto, uno mismo. Cabe destacar que muchos de los que lo han conseguido no han vuelto nunca a su posición inicial, y no por imposibilidad, sino por voluntad propia. Otros, los verdaderos expertos, van y vienen. La mayoría, por desgracia, nunca lo consigue.

Where?

to dr. plim

"Where are you?"

"Nowhere, really, don't worry about it, it doesn't really matter, does it? What about you? Where are you?"

"I'm now here. That I know."

¿Y ahora qué?

Respiraba agitado.

Su vida huía zigzagueando a través de una heterogénea pulsera pasión.

El teléfono comenzó a sonar.

Tumbado boca abajo se dejó seducir por el omnipresente reclamo.

"Sé que estás ahí..."

El tic tac de un pretérito reloj de pared.

"Coge el teléfono..."

El incesante zumbido de un frigorífico vacío.

"Lo siento..."

Una espita que llora gotas insípidas.

Se levantó del frío suelo y caminó hasta el teléfono e intentó sin éxito aferrarse a él. Cerró los ojos para hacer frente a lo que una vez fue y nunca más volvería a ser. Allí seguía él, tumbado boca abajo.

"¿Y ahora qué?" Se preguntó mientras lágrimas invisibles violaban su mirada.

7. redemption (or i rode my bike across a seven miles bridge surrounded by blues)

continuation

There he was. A seven miles bridge ahead. Riding above the calm water, below an infinite blue sky scattered with inspiring clouds. Blues everywhere. It was worth the ride.

A couple of hours, and two flat tires, later he finally arrived to Key West. Once there he did not know what to do. He had been there before twice. He checked in a motel and went for a walk along Duval Street. He had a frozen chocolate key lime pie for dinner and went back to dive into bed.

The following morning he rented a car and started a sad way back. Sad because he was in a car, sad because it was over, sad because he had not find what he was looking for.

"Why did I ride my bike all the way down here?" He kept asking himself while covering the route backwards on the comfortable seat of a sport utility vehicle.

Everything would be as he left it. Yes, it would. And that thought made him smile. The only thing he needed to be happy was to pedal. He knew then. And pedaling, pedaling is just an attitude...

Redemption Song by Bob Marley, his soundtrack on the way back.

the end and a beginning