Saturday, March 24, 2007, 7:38 PM
New evils
At noon today, my neighbor Magda invited me to lunch, and I found out that the neighbor from the fourth floor, the wife-beater, had come back from the hospital. They brought him last night while I was at the movies. Apparently, he has to stay in bed for a while. As far as I’m concerned, he can stay there his whole life; that way he won’t ever be able to hit anyone again.
Magda is a god woman, intelligent and cultured, and attractive for her age. I’ve always seen her well-dressed and you can tell she takes care of herself. That’s why, before knowing her, I thought she was about fifty. She has been a widow for five years, and she could never have children with her husband, but she says it isn’t important, that her Antonio always gave her all the affection she needed and more.
While we were eating, she put the news on the TV, which we didn’t pay much attention to while we were telling each other our life stories. Until they announced “the death of A. F. Gómez, a security guard hired by the Railway company, due to the wounds caused by the attack at the hands of a man still unidentified by the police. He fought for his life for more than forty hours in the intensive care unit at the Barcelona Hospital del Mar, where he passed away at 12:01 noon today”.
Then they put on images of his colleague, declaring that he didn’t remember anything that had happened, but that he wanted the culprit caught as soon as possible. Finally, he gave his condolences to the family and the program went to the next story.
Magda was staring at me with concern. I was trembling and in the opaque glass of a cupboard, I could see the reflection of my anguished face; it had lost all color.
Then she asked me if I knew him, if he was a friend of mine. No words would come out. I didn’t know what to say, either. I got up and hurried out of there, and she followed me to the entrance. When I got to the door, I was able to mumble a “forgive me, I’m sorry”, and left her apartment to go to mine. I went up the stairs two at a time, opened the door with difficult because of how hard my hands were trembling, and leaving it ajar, ran to the bathroom. Falling in front of the toilet bowl, I puked up yesterday’s dinner and what I had just eaten. Then I began to cry.
When I calmed down again, I remembered the door and went to shut it. I stood in front of it for a while, remembering the last part of my dream. Then I called Rafa. I needed to see him, but he told me that he had problems with Marta and that he couldn’t meet up today. And that if I wanted, we could have lunch together tomorrow.
Goddamnit! Fucking bitch Marta! Leave her already, Rafa, she’s destroying your life and you don’t see it! Although, now that I think of it, I’m not the best person to give advice right now. My life is going to hell in a hand basket at a dizzying pace.
I told him I’d call tomorrow.
I think I’ll go down into Barcelona, I’ll get drunk and I’ll go to some dive until they throw me out. I’ve never gone out partying on my own, and maybe now is the time. Logic says it would be best not to leave my house for a few days until things cool down a bit, but I know that if I stay in I’ll be even more bothered and I might even end up turning myself in to the police.
Yeah, I definitely think the best thing to do is to go out and distract myself a little.