Time runs away
De WikiNovela
She felt time running away from her clutching hands.
No bargaining, nothing to question about. Just a watch moving slowly and the insistent, obsessive click every second. One empty room, white walls, closed door, one dry view from a single window. The red, silky skirt, flouting around her knees. One spare chair on the dark corner, lost under the dust that could not be seen, just felt in the air, on the sticky floor. Tommy, exhausted, was sleeping silently. His long eyelashes vibrated from time to time.
Too depressed to cry, too stunned to grieve, Anna waited in silence for a long time. Slowly, she realized she was coming out of her shock, from the speed it had all happened at. Only yesterday she was pressing her mother's home number -and playing with a lock of her hair while talking nonsenses to her. School, her suspicions of some older boys bullying Tommy, that was suffering from nightmares. Her own hair, rolled around her finger -she had inheritated from her, and both hated it heartly. Trivial, reassuringly familiar topics. Anna's mother laughed scornfully at her.
"God, if all my problems were always those problems..."
Anna suddenly made a bargain with herself: She'd give herself a year of no smoking, no complaining about Charles, no shouting at Tommy at all. Then, surely the powers of medicine, God, good energies, whatever the hell it was, would save her mother. He/she/they could take whatever they wanted, excepting her son. Or her eyes -she always had a petrifying fear of blindness, and the very same nightmares that Tommy was experiencing tortured her at his age. One night she would had cried madly, with her eyes opened to infinite and the panic of her mother.
Another wave of disbelief and displacement hit her. In real life she was always surrounded by a loving tranquility, a routine as thick as melted honey. A feeling that she had created with a strong determination and the construction of semi-real relationships based on working, net and excuses. Distance she could handle with a certain grace. Proximity, on the other hand, was something sordid and painful. So she realized she should not be on her own at the moment, but she could not be with anyone else -too many years of not phoning friends, of building thick walls around her, her mother and Tommy, the most precious things of her life.
Something hot, she reminded herself slowly. A coffee, a tea. Get up, check that Tommy is comfortable, his small face turned to the plastic of the chair, walk fifty metres, don't forget the purse, but a cheap drink in on of those machines. She was inflincted again with guilt and an unwelcome thought.
"My mother will be dead in a few hours. I am alone with my kid now. Something is cracking and I am not prepared to face it".
Like an automat, she went up and caressed his son's hair. He was grabbing a toy trunk in his fist. She opened the door and listened. She could hear the electric buzz of the halogen lamps, and a lonely bumping. Her heart? The nurses' shoes? She could not tell. Then, a doctor crossed the aisle. She kept her breath, but he did not enter into the white room. He waved her a wry smile, vaguely protective. When he turned the corner, she closed again the door and reclined her forefront against it. He looked like Charles. The same height, the same constitution, a hint of a hairy arm behind the shirt.
Charles, with his new shining life glittering in front of her eyes, his excuses, his mean allowance, his dark, frightening eyes, his acrid smell when he was drunk -and that was often enough. Anna thought about Tommy, and she was irrationally glad that he did not see the doctor. She knew she was overprotective, that he could sometimes smell her anguish and the tenssion piled up when a telephone ringed at an unexpected hour. Bur she was determined to keep him far from the life she had to stand -oh, those horrible three years before he was born, fear, terror, desperation, a mute calling for help always unexpressed.
Another nurse passed, carrying a tray piled high with plastic and metallic trays. She looked at Tommy, and looked for something into her pocket. She produced three candies, mint and honey flavoured. She smiled. (Espido Freire)
But her smile gradually turned into a frown as she thought of Charles again. She could actually visualise him in front of her, tall and proud, looking at her defiantly while she tried to stop Tommy from sobbing. -'Shhh. Don't shout, Charles'. I can hear you perfectly. You can talk to me, just talk. Don't raise you voice. You are frightening Tommy'. No sooner had she said so than his hand fell on her cheek. She could not hear the words that accompanied his hand. Only his big, warm hand against her cheek, quick but effective. She could not utter a word after that, nor cry. She remained silent while she saw him turn and leave the room. She would not forget that day. It was not the physical pain that hurt, but her soul, her heart, the deep disappointment within her. Anna would have never expected that from him. It was the first time he dared to hit her. But little did she know that it would not be the last, either.
Suddenly, Tommy started to move restlessly and her mind was in the room with him again.
He was quiet again. Charles...she must've been crazy...did she actually care for him at all, had she ever loved him, truly loved him? It all seemed so absurd now, all those wasted years, all those unanswered questions, the lies, the insane pretending. Evelyn had been right about them after all. It won't last darling, he's not really there at all, is he! I mean what is it you see in him? He is exactly like dad, empty, a mere façade, you'll end up like mother, married to this pathetic shadow. God darling do think about it will you? But she did love him, back then she did, didn't she... She wished Gabi was there now with her soothing words, her wicked knowhow, she would kill for one of Gabi's fabulous joints. Smoke and forget who she was, this other woman she had become almost without her noticing...almost. Yes, smoke and forget, just for a while at least.
She looked at Tommy again, sound asleep. He is the only part of my life that works, the only real thing in my life. Mum will be gone soon and then there will be just he and I, alone. Evelyn had gone back to South America years ago and their relationship had rapidly deteriorated after she married Charles. I just can't stand him darling, I'm sorry but I refuse to lie to you about this, he's just not good for you not good at all. She had defended Charles fiercely. What a fool she'd been. Now her so called life was crumbling to dust around her, and she knew, she had known for a long time, that Evelyn had been right about him all along.
Gabi never met Charles but she had predicted pecisely what the future would look like. You'll end up hitched to some wet cruel idiot who will make you terribly unhappy. And worst of all my dear is that you'll participate willingly in your own execution because you are a coward. How could Gabi know? Was she, even back then, so utterly transparent? But of course she had opened her heart to Gabi during those two blissful years at Oxford. She had loved Gabi,gorgeous absurdly bright Gabi, just not strongly enough to make it last. She had let her go, she had rejected paradise, for what? for a life of emptiness and excuses, a life of security, a life of small deaths and imperfect resurrections. And now this, Tommy, her Tommy, and the life of mum slowly moving into nothingness and oblivion. But there was always yesterday to go back to for reassurance and the warmth of happier days. The present was just too dreary to face at the moment. She could hear Evelyn's voice in her head; Annaaaa you're being ostrichy again, sweetheart you fave to face up to things!
She was quite certain about it, it wasn't just sex and the sweet discovey of her sensuality, there had been real love between them. She had been afraid, that was true, but Gabi had given herself completely, without reservation, almost madly. She had cowardly thrown it all away but at least she had the memory of those days, and she knew it would stay with her for as long as she lived. Before Gabi, Anna had known good times back home...Home, she no longer knew what that meant...
Apart from her short period at Oxford, England and the English had seemed horribly gray and cold, she longed for her now distant South American childhood. The parties at the beach house in Punta del Este, playing with Erika and Ariel, smoking their first joints together. The visits to aunt Ilse's insanely decorated apartment in Buenos Aires. She had even enjoyed school in Montevideo. The Irish nuns were strict but she loved learning and she soon became Sister Catherine's favourite pet. She had a huge crush on her- as Evelyn, trying to make her blush, would often remind her years later... At home things were far from perfect, there was dad and his silent war against his wife and the world...
Mrs Lamb? She looked up, there was a young black doctor standing at the door. Mrs Lamb I'm doctor Fairchild are you feeling ok? He spoke softly with a thick Welsh accent. Anna smiled- yes, thank you doctor, just a bit tired... There was a telephone call for you a couple of hours ago, you had fallen asleep and I didn't want to bother you, I... Oh! I'm sorry I didn't even... Please don't apologise, you must be really exhausted...er..the caller was your sister, she did say it wasn't urget, she's left her contact details, a foreign number I think.
He handed her a wrinkly yellow post-it. She tried to read the words scrawled on it, at first she was unable to make any sense of it. Then the greenish ink began to take shape and form legible letters and numbers, To Mrs Lamb, room 2066. 11.15pm. Please phone Mrs Evelyn Iriart. Buenos Aires. Not urgent. The twelve digit phone number wasn't familiar but she could recognise the international dialing code for Argentina.
Thank you very much doctor. My...my mother, there is no hope, is there? I'm very sorry Mrs Lamb, I think doctor Patel explained the situation to you this morning...the coma...well, it is irreversible I'm afraid. She will not wake up, her vital signs are very weak indeed. It's only a matter of hours now, a couple of days perhaps. I am truly sorry. Yes, well thank you doctor, I just wanted to make sure before, before I speak with my sister, she...well...thank you again doctor, you've been very kind, thak you.
He smiled sadly at her and left the room quietly. Anna read the yellow piece of paper again. Evelyn...after three years of total silence...She would phone her sister in the morning. Now she needed to rest, she couldn't even think straight.
Coffee machines don't give you coffee. You think you can get coffee or even tea for your money but the coffee machine has other ideas. Anna knew this universal truth but she always gave in to the tepmtation of hope. Perhaps this time the coffee machine would be generous and the cofee wouldn't taste like filthy water, perhaps just this once, for the fist time the temperature would be perfect, not cold or boiling hot, the two usual choices. She put the tiny plastic cup to her lips. -Mrs Lamb? The handsome middle aged woman who spoke to her wore an immaculately pressed white uniform. The name badge on her chest read S. Josephine Black. -There's a phone call for you at the reception desk, please follow me. Her blue eyes, Irish perhaps or even American, definitely beyond England, reminded Anna of her father's steely gaze. -Hello, this is Anna Lamb. -Anita querida you should start using your own name again, don't you think? Anna recognised her sister's voice, she sounded mellow,drunk mellow. -Evelyn! I'm so happy you called, I was about to phone you myself... -I couldn't sleep anyway...How's mother doing? Is it really as bad as you said on your e-amail? -She's been in a coma since yesterday Lyna, the doctors say it's a matter of hours now. There's nothing they can do... -Fuck! I don't know what to feel...I'm so tired...I won't come to the funeral Anna, you know how I loathe all that. -oh...well don't worry, she had everything arranged, I spoke to her lawyer yesterday. There'll be a cremation, no priest or anything, just a couple of friends... I'll bring the ashes with me to Montevideo, you know she wanted to go back... I... I'm coming home too Lyna, we're coming home Tommy and I. -Best thing you could do darling, you've been in that horrid little country far too long. Does Charles know? -I left him...or he left me, i'm not too sure, in any case it's all over. You were right about him, he turned out to be a complete pendejo. -I can't pretend I'm sorry to hear it Anita. You're better off on your own. -Yes i know now... He hit me... that's what finally forced me to open my eyes, I was afraid for Tommy too. -That bastard! ¡Hijo de puta! I can't believe it! -It's over now Lyna, it's gone. -Darling I'm sorry I've been so harsh on you. I... you should have told me Anita ¡por Dios! Please forgive me... -We'll talk when I get home, please don't worry, i'm fine now, Tommy is doing fine too, please don't worry Lyna. -I wish I could say something... anyway i'm too drunk to make much sense. I've been in B.A. since last Friday, i only managed to read your e-amil as I was leaving the house. Aunt Ilse had a car accident and she's in hospital. -My God! is she ok? -Yes, just a couple of broken ribs, but they want to keep her there for a week or so just in case. -But what happened exactly, was she driving herself? -Yes she was, at 89! can you believe it! Another car hit them from behind as they were getting to Ezeiza. Aunt Ilse was taking her friend Graciela, remember her? Graciela Bornstein? -Oh yes, her friend from the camps. -Exactly, she's 87. Well they're both ok really and not at all scared. Graciela is also at the clinic, broken arm and a black eye. They were very lucky if you think about it... naturally they keep protesting about all the fuss I'm making. They're tough birds those two. -Well, they did get out of Dachau alive, they're not gonna let a little accident get in their way... -Yes I guess you're right. -I have to go and check on Tommy Lyna. I'll call you if anything changes...well you know what I mean... -Yes, you go to him, I'll keep in touch as well. I'll phone again tomorrow if I can. -Ok, bye darling. -Un abrazo Anita, bye.
His life at the moment felt like a phone call on hold at one of those huge call-centers were one of his best friends had worked for a long time. He chose a random tile on the floor of the balcony and looked straight out into the roofs ahead. For a hundred meters or so, the view was uninterrupted. Then his eyes met one of the ugly backsides of the telefónica building.
He had recently looked at a leaflet from the real-estate agency which was selling and leasing the apartments that were yet to be fitted in that building. They would be handsome and regal. He liked those words because they made him think of what he had had in mind when he decided what he wanted his home to be like.
He had always liked architecture and interior design. He remembered a joke his architect lover had told him: why are there so many gay architects? because they do not have the guts to be interior designers nor are they men enough to be civil engineers. They had had a short, intense and romantic affair, which had ended painlessly and they had kept a variable degree of attachment over the years but never lost sight of each others' lives.
But the landmark of Mikel and Fernando's friendship was the building where Mikel had now lived for ten years. It was one of the first renovated buildings in Chueca and Fernando had let Mikel inspire him. The result had been twelve luxury apartments, including two penthouses, in one of which Mikel still lived.
"you carried it for fifteen months in your womb but I put the seed." Mikel had once said and Fernando had agreed. Fernando had earned several prizes for the renovation of the building. It had actually involved tearing down everything except the eighteenth century façade, the staircase and the nineteenth century elevator, which had originally worked on a steam engine and now was powered by the electricity supplied by the solar pannels on the roof.
Mikel's apartment consisted of a few big rooms. The old buildings in the area had had tiny narrow bedrooms, plenty of them, with narrow beds and wiry matresses. His living room was 8 by 5 meters, his bedroom a square 5 by 5 besides the "american style" walk-in closet (2 by 3) a kitchen the size of the bedroom and finally the bathroom (3 by 4 meters) and a comparatively small guest toilet. There was also an entrance hall. And finally the balcony a huge 6 meter wide, 10 meter long that ran along the outside of the apartment. That's where he stood.
Where he stood phisically, his mind somewhere else. Two weeks before he had finished paying his mortgage, and a week later his partner of seven years had left him. He had not been surprised when some of his friends organized a party to celebrate the end of those seven years. he wondered why he had stuck to that so long. And he regreted not having taken that decision - leaving - instead of being the one being left. Whatever. He was now free of a burden.
It had happened all of a sudden and he was momentarily - or so he hoped - as clueless as Reese Witherspoon's character when her boyfriend left her to pursue a serious life in Harvard.
In the middle of his reverie, he listened to his Argentinian neighbour, who lived in the other penthouse and who could not care less who listened to his conversations or, for that matter, who heard his lovers' moans.
As it turned out, his ex-partner had taken to visiting the neighbour. One afternoon, Mikel had met another of his neighbours, Mrs Aguirre, a middle aged divorceé who had bought and united the two already huge flats in the floor below.
"Would you care for a cup of coffee?" She had asked.
And while they were having coffee and some cake, she just said:
"Now listen."
And he had listened. That had been just before their sixth aniversary. he had heard his partners' moans while his neighbour picked a piece of cake. The next thing he knew he was asking her, what she would do in his place.
"You can make it subtle or big headlines, but just wrench his crotch until he cannot even dare think of having sex, including you."
He had done none of that but tried for more than a year to pretend that he did not know and try to recapture the love he knew had belonged to him.
Now that was gone and he was left a 34 years-old bachelor with a luxury flat and a big time job.
While he had pretended to be blind and deaf, he had actually set a private investigator on Michael. He was easy to find. A six-feet two ex-rugby player, with baby-blue eyes and a killer smile, whom he had bumped into in the middle of gay pride ten years before.
The argentinian neighbour who talked incredibly high on the phone had provided him with more information than he had obtained from the private eye. Actually as it turned out later, he had leant on the subdivision while talking about shagging the neighbour so that Mikel could hear.
"Yes, he is pretty dumb... even in bed - this had struck Mikel, but then, his neighbour was one of the city's official casanovas - and I hope his boyfriend finds out soon because he actually does not deserve it. You think I should tell him? Maybe I should. Maybe I have already done that." Mikel could imagine his neighbour making some complicity gesture at him through the wall.
Mikel moved out his stupor and walked out of his tile. He went into the flat, around the sofa, took the keys and went out of the flat. he had decided to go out for a while.
He waited for the elevator and then an idea struck his mind. He went for a walk, and looked around for something.
Twenty minutes afterwards he was on his way back home, with a tub of dulce de leche ice-cream.
Marcelo, his neighbour, opened the door in flip-flops and underpants and looked like he had been naked ten seconds before.
"Hello, nice to see you. What's that... you brought dulce de leche ice-cream... I will kill you. Come on in, I guess you want to talk and I have just the faintest idea what it will be about." "It is my way of thanking you." "What for?" "For shouting through the partition how dumb my partner was." "Oh that, I guess you realised it was absolutely on purpose." "I think I figured that out pretty easily... even if you usually talk exactly that loud on the phone." "Anyway, how are you feeling?" "Stunned. You see, I had just finished paying for the flat." "Congratulations... I still have sixteen years before that." "How is your show?" "Pretty lame... I do not get any good options so I stick to it but I guess they are going to cut it off soon." "What are you going to do?" "Work, of course. What do you do?" "He he, I work too. I used to work in channel five I just moved to the new one..." "You work on TV too?" "Yes, but you never get to see me. I am in production." "If you hear of something that might suit me..." "I owe you a big favour." "Listen he is an absolute prick. You should have ditched him straight away." "Many things happen in such a long relationship." "You may not believe me, but I know."
They talked for hours and the conversation derived from "the prick with the killer smile" to Marcelo's hometown, a few hundred kilometres from Buenos Aires.
It was 2 a.m. when Mikel yawned first. Then Marcelo made his proposal.
"Listen Mikel. I have had a great time talking with you. I do not get so much good talk that often and I would feel very happy if you stayed the night here. I am not talking about sex. It is that you just put me in a certain mood. I would rather not sleep alone tonight, as simple as that. I hope you understand."
Mikel felt suddenly completely awake.
"You realise this sounds just like a big joke." "Listen, you just touched certain keys, that's all. I know my reputation. I just ask you to forget about my reputation, about the fact that I shagged your partner twice and... please stay, for God's sake. I just need that favour."
The next morning two lonely hearts woke up in the same bed, bodies intact.
"Good morning neighbour..." "Good morning neighbour..." "You realise they would either not believe me or they would slap me for not taking the chance." "You took a chance and I hope you feel it was better than sex. I am certainly glad you stayed." "So am I."
Anna knew that the problem with being so many brothers and sisters was keeping track of all of them, their whereabouts and so on. No one could contact Marcelo at the moment. Apparently their cousin Cecilia knew where he was, or rather where he had been six months before. After that nothing. And asking Cecilia was pointless, since she was herself almost out of reach too, an explorer in the Amazon forest, risking her head everyday in her tree-huging crusade.
There were three other brothers and two sisters left, besides Evelyn. Then, out of the blue, her inspiration came. It came to her actually, at least through the phone. After twenty-five minutes of hurried updating and hard swearing on Gabi's side, she suggested what Anna should have thought of.
Gabi would do an internet search so they could find Marcelo. She said it was unbelievable how they could have lost track of him.
"I will call you as soon as I have any clue."
"mom?" "yes dear?" she langidly replied but inside she was suddenly alert. With Tommy's father departure, not only had she fared better but she had ceased to fear for Tommy, at least because of his father. Now all Tommy had was a deranged mother (she admitted to that, at least), though a loving one, a dying grandmother and a series of uncles and aunts whose whereabouts were sometimes difficult to trace. Probably they were never all together in the same continent. Not even when they were children. Family disrupture ran in their blood, and dispersion was in their genes. seven children of two mothers and three husbands, a hullabaloo of half-siblings and some of them not even sharing a surname but still... if you needed them, no matter how far lost in the jungle they might be, they would fly to your rescue.
Marcelo had once appeared at her doorstep and requested her husband to come out and fight. He was not drunk. Anna's husband had been elated that his gay half-brother in law claimed his right to fight for his sister. Marcelo ended up in jail for a couple of days and her husband had gotten two black eyes. A horrible sight to behold.
Both inside and outside, his true nature had began to develop as their marriage went on.
Mum thinks I don't notice anything, even though I am here with her -at hospital- while granny is dying. Connected to all those tubes, she looks like an alien. Her skin is greyish and it seems to me she's not real anymore. She's like one of those alien toys that blow up when sank in water. But instead of getting bigger, she just got smaller. No one could say she was a tall woman, not even when looking at the old pictures where she appeared grabbing the arm of my grandfather, smiling in a calico dress. I used a ruler to measure their size (I am always measuring things) and she was only three inches tall, while grandfather was six and a half. When I met her, I mean not when we became grandmother and grandson but when I was old enough to recognize her as my granny amongst the rest of adults, she was already bent by the weight of the years, at least that's what she used to say. Personally I don't find years that heavy, I find them way too long. I'd like to be a grown up man right now, possibly a doctor so I could fix whatever is broken inside granny. Anyway, I prefer to think she was really interested in the treasures you can find in the street, that's why she walked staring at the pavement. However short or bent she was, it has nothing to do with her current dimension. She's just gone flat over the inmaculate bed, so small it makes me want to hold her tightly and tell her everything will be alright. But I know it's not true and she always told me not to tell lies. I wouldn't want her to be upset right now. She must feel already quite overwhelmed under those cables. I've noticed her breathing is weak and I reckon it must be because of the weight of the cables, not of the years.
They believe I don't know what the death of a loved one means. But I do. Two years ago Rory, my rabbit, disappeared. Mum said he went on a journey, as dad would do from time to time, but it was me who pushed him to death. My friend Carl stayed over for a pizza party. Friends usually sleep on the sofa bed in the living room. Carl helped me open the sofa bed, not without great effort. And poor Rory was hidden inside it. I saw a trail of dark blood running across the floor while Carl put the freshly washed sheets on the bed and the air filled with a scent of lavender. But I didn't say anything. I knew it was Rory's blood but still didn't say anything. Granny used to point out that if you don't have anything interesting to say, you'd rather keep quiet and that's exactly what I did. And that's why I say nothing now and let them believe I just don't realize of what's going on. Next day I pretended I didn't know where Rory was, as I was looking for him around the flat. Then mum said he went on a journey. I didn't ask more and mum was happy with it. Mum is unremarkably happy when no questions are placed. The less inquiries, the happier she gets. That's why I would never become a private eye.
What would she do with a penis anyway? Evelyn cleaned the old Luger for the second time in fifteen minutes. Wank, she would wank quite a lot probably, yes, she would wank all the time. She wondered if Marcelo could give her a few tips on penises... Would a cut penis be better than the uncut gentile version? She took another sip of scotch and admired the empty magazine, she loaded the gun and aimed at her aunt's elegant blue hairdo. "Evelyn please! I'm trying to read the paper!" "Tell me auntie, is it dificult to get bullets for this?" "Darling we live in Buenos Aires, after the the war practically half of the Wehrmacht and plenty of SS retired here, and they brought their toys with them- but why do you ask dear?" "Oh nothing just thinking about...well never mind" "Drink auntie?" "Thank you querida, i'll have another scotch" She could hardly remember Rodrigos's penis...twenty five years was a long time, even for a penis, and more so for the nebulous memory of a penis, even for her husband's penis.
It was already dark outside, she had fallen asleep. Aunt Ilse was still reading her week old copy of Die Zeit. "Was it hard to live here knowing that they were in the same country, the same city even? It must've been hard for you and Graciela and for the others too..." "We learned to live with it...but it wasn't easy, naturally" "How many did you catch?" "Darling you know that's priviliged information..." The old woman's piercing blue eyes got lost in the past, the bad old days, as she often called those years when everything had become brutally simple, no shades of grey back then, black or white were the only two choices available. "Just a few, unfortunately, just a few... it felt good of course, but it doesn't help with the pain...nothing does. One just has to learn to live with it"
