Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta bus. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta bus. Mostrar todas las entradas

viernes, 4 de diciembre de 2015

Cosas que hacer

   Apenas giré la llave, el agua me cayó de lleno en la cara. Di un salto hacia atrás, casi golpeando la puerta corrediza de la ducha, porque el agua había salido muy fría y después se calentó tanto que me quemó un poco la piel. Cuando por fin encontré la temperatura correcta, me di cuenta que mi piel estaba algo roja por los fogonazos de agua caliente.

Me mojé el caballo lentamente y cuando me sentí húmedo por completo tomé el jabón y empecé a pasarlo por todo mi cuerpo. Mientras lo hacía, me despertaba cada vez más y me daba cuenta de que mi día no iba a ser uno de esos que me gustaban, en los que me duchaba tarde porque dormía hasta la una de la tarde y después pedía algo a domicilio para comérmelo en la cama. Esos días eran los mejores pues no necesitaban de nada especial para ser los mejores.

 Pero ese día no sería así. Eran las nueve de la mañana, para mi supremamente temprano, y tenía que salir en media hora a la presentación teatral de una amiga. Se había dedicado al teatro para niños y por primera vez la habían contratado para una temporada completa así que quería que sus mejores amigos estuvieran allí para apoyarla.

 Me cambié lo más rápido que pude y me odié a mi mismo y al mundo entero por tener que usar una camisa y un corbatín. Me miré en el espejo del baño y pensé que parecía un imbécil. La ropa formal no estaba hecha para mi. Me veía disfrazado y sabía que cualquiera que me mirara detectaría enseguida que yo jamás usaba ni corbatas, ni zapatos negros duros, ni corbatines tontos ni camisas bien planchadas.

 Salí a la hora que había pensado pero el bus se demoró más de la cuenta y cuando llegué ya había empezado la obra. Menos mal se trataba de Caperucita Roja y Cenicienta, y no de alguna obra de un francés de hacía dos siglos. Mi lugar estaba en uno de los palcos, abajo se veía un mar de niños que estaban atontados mirando la obra. Era entendible pues había también títeres y muchos colores, así que si yo tuviera seis o siete años también hubiera puesto mucha atención.

 Cuando se terminó la primera obra hubo un intermedio. Aproveché para buscar a mi amiga en los camerinos pero el guardia más delgado que había visto jamás me cerró el paso y me trató que si fuera indigno de entrar en los aposentos de los actores. Le expliqué que era amigo de tal actriz y que solo quería saludarla y entonces me empezó a dar un discurso sobre la seguridad y no sé que más. Así que me rendí. Compré un chocolate con maní y regresé a mi asiento para ver la siguiente obra.

 Cuando terminó, llamé a mi amiga y le dije que la esperaría afuera. No esperaba que tuviese mucho tiempo para mi, pues era su día de estreno, pero me sorprendió verla minutos después todavía vestida de una de las feas hermanastras. Fuimos a una cafetería cercana a tomar y comer algo y ella me preguntó por mis padres y por Jorge. Yo solo suspiré y le dije que a todos los visitaría ese día, después de hacer un par de cosas más. Ella me tomó una mano y sonrió y no dijo más.

 Nos abrazamos al despedirnos y prometimos vernos pronto. Apenas me alejé, corrí hasta una parada de bus cercana y menos mal pasó uno en poco tiempo. Tenía el tiempo justo para llegar al centro de la ciudad donde tendría mi examen de inglés. No duraba mucho, solo un par de horas. Era ese que tienes que hacer para estudiar y trabajar en país de habla anglosajona. El cosa es que lo hice bastante rápido y estaba seguro de que había ido estupendamente.

 Salí antes para poder tomar un autobús más y así llegar a casa de mi hermana con quién iría más tarde a visitar a mis padres. Con ella almorcé y me reí durante toda la visita. Mi hermana era un personaje completo y casi todo lo que decía era sencillamente comiquísimo. Incluso sus manierismos eran los de un personaje de dibujos animados.

 Había cocinado lasaña y no me quejé al notar que la pasta estaba algo cruda pero la salsa con carne molida lo compensaba. Allí pude relajarme un rato, hasta que fueron las tres de la tarde y salimos camino a la casita que nuestros padres habían comprado años atrás en una carretera que llevaba a lujosos campos de golf y varios escenarios naturales hermosos.

 Cuando llegamos, mi madre estaba sola. Mejor dicho, estaba con Herman, un perro que tenía apariencia de lobo y que siempre parecía vigilante aunque la verdad era que no ladraba mucho y mucho menos perseguía a nadie. Herman amaba recostarse junto a mi madre mientras ella veía esas series de televisión en las que se resuelven asesinatos. Seguramente las había visto todas pero aún así seguía pendiente de ellas como si la formula fuese a cambiar.

 Mi padre estaba jugando golf pero no se demoraría mucho. Hablamos con mi madre un buen rato, después de que nos ofreciera café y galletas, unas que le habían regalado hace poco pero que no había abierto pues a ella las galletas le daban un poco lo mismo. Me preguntó de mi examen de inglés y también de Jorge, de nuevo. Le dije que todo estaba bien y que no se preocupara. Miré el reloj y me di cuenta que casi eran las cinco. A las siete debía estar de vuelta en mi casa o sino tendría problemas.

 Me olvide de ellos cuando mi padre entró en la casa con su vestimenta digna de los años cincuenta y su bolsa de palos. Lo saludamos de beso, como a él le gustaba, y tomó su café mientras nos preguntaba un poco lo mismo que habíamos hablado con mi madre. Mi hermana hizo más llevadera la conversación al contarles acerca de su nuevo trabajo y del hombre con el que estaba saliendo. Al fin y al cabo era algo digno de contar pues se había divorciado hacía poco y esa separación había significado su salida definitiva del trabajo que tenía antes.

 Apuré el café y a mi hermana cuando fueron las seis. Nos despedimos de abrazo y prometí volver pronto. Lo decía en serie aunque sabía que luchar contra mi pereza iba a ser difícil. Pero necesitaba conectarme más con ellos, con todos, para poder salir adelante. No solo debía caer sino también aprender a levantarme, y que mejor que teniendo la ayuda de las personas que llevaba conociendo más tiempo en este mundo.

 Volvimos en media hora. Mi hermana me dejó frente a mi edificio. Le prometí también otro almuerzo pronto e incluso ir a ver la película de ciencia ficción que todo el mundo estaba comentando pero que yo no había podido ver. Ella ya la había visto con amigas pero me aseguró que era tan buena que no le molestaría repetir.

 Subí con prisa a mi apartamento. Tuve ganas de quitarme toda esa ropa ridícula pero el tiempo pasó rápidamente con solo ir a orinar. A las siete en punto timbró el celador y le dije que dejara pasar al chico que venía a visitarme. Cuando abrí la puerta, lo reconocí al instante y le pagué por su mercancía. Se fue sin decir nada, dejándome una pequeña bolsita, como si lo que me hubiese traído fuesen dulces o medicamentos para el reumatismo.

 Abrí y vi que todo estaba en orden. Dejé la bolsa en el sofá y salí de nuevo. Tenía tiempo de ir caminando a la funeraria donde velaban a un compañero de la universidad con el que había congeniado bastante pero no éramos amigos como tal. Yo detestaba ir a todo lo relacionado con la muerte pero me sentí obligado cuando la novia del susodicho me envió un mensaje solo a mi para decirme lo mucho que él siempre me había apreciado.

 Yo de eso no sabía nada. Jamás habíamos compartido tanto como para tener algo parecido al cariño entre los dos. A lo mucho había respeto pero no mucho más. Me quedé el tiempo que soporté y al final me quedé para rezar, aunque de eso yo no sabía nada ni me gustaba. Cuando terminaron, me despedí de la novia y me fui.

 Otro autobús, este recorrido era más largo. Al cabo de cuarenta y cinco minutos estuve en un gran hospital, con sus luces mortecinas y olor a remedio. Mi nombre estaba en la lista de visitantes que dejaban pasar hasta las diez y media de la noche y, afortunadamente, tenía una hora completa para ello.

 Seguí hasta una habitación al fondo de un pasillo estrecho. Antes de entrar suspiré y me sentí morir. Adentro había solo una cama y en ella yacía Jorge. No se veía bien. Tenía un tapabocas para respirar bien y estaba blanco como la leche y más delgado de lo que jamás lo había visto. Al verme sonrió débilmente y se quitó la mascara. Yo me acerqué y le di un beso en la frente.

 Me dijo que me veía muy bien así y yo solo sonreí, porque sabía que él sabía como yo me sentía vestido así. Le comenté que había comprado la marihuana que le había prometido y que la fumaríamos juntos apenas se mejorara, pues decían que el cáncer le huía. El asintió pero se veía tan débil que yo pensé que ese sueño no se realizaría.


 Le toqué la cara, que todavía era suave como la recordaba y entonces lo besé y traté de darle algo de la poca vida que tenía yo dentro. Quería que todo fuese como antes pero el sabor metálico en sus labios me recordaba que eso no podía ser.

martes, 17 de noviembre de 2015

A character

   She sat down on the edge of the bed, naked, and just stayed there for several minutes. She then glances at the man that was sleeping in the bed and she realized she found him repulsive. There was no real reason but she felt very uncomfortable around him and decided to dress up and leave. The woman picked up her things from the floor and put them on fast and in silence. Anyway, she could have been loud and the man wouldn’t have woken up. He was snoring and drooled, making her think what was she thinking. Once the woman had everything, she grabbed her purse, which she had left on a chair, and walked out the room. She didn’t really take a look at the guy’s apartment, she knew it would be filthy and tasteless, a mirror of his own personality.

 Once she arrived on the street, she felt more free. Her name was Marina, or at least that was the name she used to sign her paintings. She was a proper artist, painting and sculpting professionally for some years now and been very recognized by it. The man she had just been with probably had no idea what the artistic world was like or how famous she was to other people. But he hadn’t been with him to be recognized, so she couldn’t really blame him for that. She had found him in a bar and had decided she needed to have sex and just went for it with him. He seemed like the kind of guy that would pick up any girl after been offered a drink, so it wasn’t difficult to convince him. She was now regretting her choice as the guy lived very far and now she had to take a bus home. Calling someone to pick her up wasn’t really an option.


miércoles, 11 de noviembre de 2015

Fish market

   When Brody woke up, the light entering his room was practically nonexistent. The only object illuminating his room was the alarm clock he had always had beside the bed. He sat on his bed for a few minutes and just stayed there, fighting the urge to fall asleep. But finally he put his two feet out of bed and walked towards the bathroom. There, he woke up even more due to the light, which was very bright. He had thought of buying another light bulb for the bathroom but he always forgot. He removed his boxers and let the water run in the shower. When it was warm, he entered half asleep, almost leaning too much against one of the shower’s walls. He didn’t really want to go to work. He just wanted to fall asleep for several hours and only wake up when he was fully rested.

 But that wasn’t happening. He got in front of the water, in order to wake up properly and spend the following five minutes trying to wake up the rest of his body. When he got back to his room, towel around his body, there was still no light outside. The world was submerged in the darkness and he was one of those unfortunate souls that had to wander through the lack of light in order to earn a living. Or something like that, anyway. He let the towel fall to the ground and then spent some minutes looking for clothes. The proof that he was still asleep was that he dressed up in the weirdest way: he put on a t-shirt first, and then the socks followed by a jacket. Then he got to his boxers and finally some pants. He almost forgot to put on underwear but he realized it in time.

 When he was finally ready, he came out of his room and into a small room outside where the kitchen was. The apartment was not very big but it was just the size he needed it to be. He could bring friends and have some beers but it wasn’t the best place for a party, even if he had already tried (often), to have some of those in there. He drank orange juice straight from the bottle and then grabbed the milk and poured some into a cup. He had it with cereal, eating standing up and closing his eyes from time to time. He so wanted to sleep. And it wasn’t only because he was tired but because he remembered bits and pieces of a great dream he had been having and he knew it was one of the good ones.

 When he finished eating, he went back to his bathroom and brushed his teeth. As he did, he looked at his face and did funny faces in order to make himself laugh or at least attempting to make his eyes look a little bit more open. But it was to no avail. He finally took a backpack from the floor of his bedroom and then just went out the door. He went down the stairs rather fast and at the bottom he received a powerful gust of wind right in his face. It was very cold and already blue outside, not yet full of light but in an annoying twilight that could last a couple of hours. He closed his jacket and walked on.

 The bus was always on time and that day it wasn’t the exception. People were already making a line to get into it so he almost got to stay because of how filled with people the bus was. He had to take a little space at the back, between the window and an elderly woman that smelled a lot like onions. He was thankful the trip was not that long, or he would have collapsed due to the odor. Maybe she was from a region where they grew a lot of onions because she wasn’t carrying a bag with them or anything. He looked at other people in the bus and there were any like him: head going from side to side, eyes closing for a few seconds, then opening as if nothing had happened. There was a young student already fast asleep. He felt sorry for him, as it was likely he would overshoot his stop.

 Finally, the bus arrived at his destination: the market. The place was very active already, even for the hour. Most people were owners of the stands. With the help of their employees, they were filling their areas with fruits and vegetables and many other delicious things to eat like mushrooms and dried fruit. He had to walk past all of that area to get to the next building, where he had to work. It was the place where the meat and fish were sold. The stand he worked at was in an intersection of paths, which was perfect for business, as every single shopper would see their products, no matter the way they were coming from. The owner complained a lot but he was pretty successful.

 When Brody arrived, he told him he should have arrived sooner as it was the day they got fresh octopus. And when he said fresh, he meant alive. It was Brody’s job to get those creatures into a tank in order to have them in display like lobsters. He actually didn’t like to do that because it reminded him a lot of those movies that show how everything once when there was slavery. Of course an octopus is not a person but he felt back for the poor fellow anyway. He put on his boots, apron and “mouth cover” and started helping his boss putting everything into display. Fortunately, the boss decided to fight the octopus himself, so he didn’t have to experience that sad episode again.

 All fish were in boxes and he just had to put them on the ice over the refrigerator where every single costumer could see how fresh and clean and beautiful everything was. It was a nice thing to do and he was already used to the smell. He sometimes did some changes in the display, forming words with the fish and he always did it without the permission of his boss. For a person that claimed to be in control of everything, he never realized what was going on in his own stand. The truth was he always negotiating and going around asking if other had made more money than him and what new products were being sold.

 The morning rush started just as the only octopus of the day was finally inside his enclosure and all the rest of his marine friends were well displayed in the stand. Just then arrive Marcus, a huge man that spoke once every year, which happened to be the one to cut, chop and gut every single fish that was going to be sold. He never helped organize things and he always left before the boss could ask him to help them clean. That was Brody’s job and also cashier and actual salesman. He convinced people to shop there and he gave them the best deals, trying to make them good for the boss too but sometimes just looking to sell something as he knew his salary depended a lot on how many fish got to leave in some old lady’s bags.

 It started a bit slow but as natural light grew larger in the outside, the more people came in to buy their rations of seafood for the day. In the stand, they did not only sell fish and octopus but also clams, squid, mussels and many other creatures. As more and more people started to come in, Brody had a nicer time. It was fun to explain to people the differences between some types of fish and others and how they could cook them and make a delicious seafood soup. Many were actually surprised he knew so much about cooking. The thing was he had decided to learn all he could about what he was selling and the natural thing was also to learn how to cook what he was selling. At home, he had already tried every recipe he recommended and it was always a success.

 In the afternoon, things began coming to an end. People had already had lunch and very few buyers bought fish for dinner so late. They came for it in the morning. So at four or five in the afternoon, depending of the day, they closed shop, put into boxes everything that had not being sold and began cleaning their stands with hoses as fish guts had to be pushed into a main drain. It was Brody who did all of that because Marcus left and his boss was too busy trying to calculate how much money he had made in one day. The octopus was the last one to be put away. Thankfully for him, no one had wanted to cook him for a meal.

 Thirty minutes after closing, Brody cleaned his boots and apron, put them in the backpack and bid farewell to the boss. He hoped for Friday to come soon as he got his paycheck then. He had worked hard all month and, as he walked towards the bus stop ( again in the twilight), he repeated his plans in his head: he wanted to be a chef and had to get the right amount of money to study to be one of the best cooks in the country. Inside the bus, people moved because he still smelled like fish. He didn’t mind, it was an acquired taste. When he got home he enjoyed a warm shower and got into bed early, without eating. He had to save money and he couldn’t afford dining every day.


 His dream was the most important thing to him and he was willing to sacrifice a bit of himself in order to get access to it. Before falling asleep, however, his only thought was a clam chowder, nice and warm, with all the proper ingredients.

jueves, 5 de noviembre de 2015

Rutinas matutinas

   Recuerdo que era horrible despertarse hacia las cinco de la mañana. Siempre pensé que era casi un castigo divino el hecho de hacer semejante cosa con un niño, despertarlo a una hora en la que muchos adultos ni siquiera estaban conscientes y a la que los animales tampoco respondían muy bien que digamos. El frío instantáneo al despertar, la gana de quedarse cinco minutos en la cama o el hecho de hacerlo todo medio dormido era un ritual bastante extraño, como si todo se tratase de algo que había que hacer por obligación y porque no había más remedio. Y de hecho así era, porque había que ir al colegio, no era algo muy opcional, incluso cuando estaba enfermo. Mis padres no veían muy bien que se faltara a la escuela un solo día, así fuese el ultimo antes de vacaciones o uno atrapado entre dos días festivos.

 La rutina era la misma siempre: primero despertarse a esa hora tan horrible. Cuando era pequeño era mi mamá la que me despertaba, actuando como mi despertador. Ya después yo fui poniendo una alarma que a veces escuchaba y otras no. Pasó varias veces que se nos hacía tarde, que el bus no se demoraba en pasar y que solo tenía tiempo de vestirnos y ya. No era lo mejor puesto que a mi no bañarme siempre me ha parecido difícil porque me siento físicamente sucio por horas después. Siento como si no hubiese salido de la cama. Es que la cama tenía mucho poder. Por eso seguido en el bus del colegio me quedaba dormido y solo me despertaba una vez en el colegio, para mi completo desagrado.

 Después de ducharme dormido, porque el agua no ayudaba en nada, me ponía la ropa lentamente: la ropa interior, las medias, el pantalón y así. Todo con una ceremonia que terminaba con mi mamá viniendo para decirme que apurara porque no tenía tanto tiempo y porque ya llegaba el bus. Esto era muchas veces un mentira que mi madre usaba para acelerar el paso. El resultado era siempre variado, nunca siempre el mismo. Después de cambiarme y tomar la maleta, había que desayunar. Siempre era algo simple como tostadas con mermelada o cereal con leche. Nunca comíamos nada demasiado complejo. Primero porque a mi mamá cocinar tan temprano no le gustaba pero también porque no había tiempo de tanta cosa.

 A mi me daba igual porque nunca me cabía mucha comida. Sigue siendo lo mismo de hecho. Y el desayuno, a pesar de ser pequeño, también lo comía con ceremonia, tratando de alejar al sueño de mi mente, muchas veces sin éxito. Mi hermano muchas veces estaba tan dormido que su cara quedaba a milímetros de su cereal. Normalmente teníamos unos pocos minutos más para cepillarnos los dientes y luego llegaba el bus. A veces se demoraba pero normalmente era bastante puntual. Había que bajar corriendo y sentir decenas de ojos cuando uno se subía y tomaba asiento. El de al lado mío siempre se demoraba en ocuparse.

 En la universidad, la rutina cambió sustancialmente. Ya le horario no era rígido, no era el mismo todos los días. Había algunas veces que de nuevo tenía que despertar a las cinco de la mañana pero normalmente era más tarde. Eso sí, nunca modifiqué el tiempo que me daba para hacer lo que tenía que hacer antes de salir: siempre era una hora, a veces con algunos minutos de más. Lo calculé así por la sencilla razón de tener más minutos de sueño. Lo primero para mi era poder dormir a gusto porque así me despertaba con más energía y disposición. Eso sí, no servía de mucho porque empecé a dormir hasta tarde, costumbre que todavía tengo y seguramente no dejaré.

 En ese momento la rutina era la misma pero variaba por la hora del día. Me encantaba cuando solo tenía una clase en la tarde. Hubo semestres en los que almorzaba en casa o al menos desayunaba rápidamente teniendo a mi madre ya despierta. Los días en los que ella era mi despertador habían pasado y me tocaba a mi despertarme todos los días. A eso me acostumbré rápidamente y descubrí mi sensibilidad a esos sonidos. Hay gente que no oye las alarmas y tiene que levantarse con movimiento pero a mi en cambio nunca me gustó que me sacudieran para despertarme. Era demasiado violento para mi gusto.

 De pronto el cambio más significativo entonces era que me despertaba para ir a un sitio que yo había elegido para aprender de algo que yo quería aprender. No era el colegio en el que a veces la primera clase del día era matemáticas. Eso era una combinación mortal. Pero en la universidad ya no había matemáticas ni nada demasiado críptico para que yo lo entendiese. Así que muchas veces despertarse era un gusto y yo lo hacía con un ritmo envidiable, creo yo, pues sabía usar el tiempo de la manera más eficiente posible. Además que ahí empecé a aprovechar ese tiempo del desayuno para también ver televisión o algo en internet, pues así podía relajarme aún más antes de clase.

 Los desayuno seguían siendo pequeños pero, como dije antes, esto es porque me quedé así. Los grandes desayunos con muchos panes y huevo y caldos y bebidas calientes, eran para los sábados y los domingos. Entre semana todo eso me hubiera caído como una patada y más si tenía que levantarme temprano. En la universidad yo hacía mis desayunos y aunque sí comía mucho huevo, la verdad era que no había nada más ligero que eso y a la vez más completo. Después era cepillarme los dientes e irme a tomar el transporte. Entre que salía de casa y llegaba a la universidad, pasaban tal vez cuarenta minutos, considerando que eran dos transportes lo que tenían que tomar.

 Por dos años, aunque eso terminó hace un mes o un poco más, tuve la fortuna o el infortunio de no tener responsabilidad alguna con nada. Es decir que no  tenía clases a las que ir ni tenía un trabajo al que responder. No había nada porque no conseguía nada. Entonces la rutina de entre semana cambió a su modo más relajado que nunca. Ya no importaba dormir hasta tarde pues podía levantarme casi a la hora que quisiera al otro día. Al menos al comienzo fue así. No era poco común que me acostara a las casi tres de la mañana y al otro día despertara casi al mediodía. De raro no tenía nada y siendo ya adulto nadie me decía nada. La rutina entonces se diluyó bastante pues no había como modificarla de verdad. Así que yo solo hacía lo que tenía que hacer.

 Dejé de bañarme después de despertarme para poner el desayuno primero o comer algo antes del almuerzo, porque no tenía ya mucho sentido comer mucho a dos horas de comer la mejor comida del día. Hubo muchos días en los que simplemente comía un pan o algo de pastelería o solo el jugo de naranja y con eso duraba lo que tenía que durar hasta la hora del almuerzo. No era lo mejor pero así era. Después me duchaba y podía durar el doble de antes cambiándome, ya no porque me estuviese durmiendo sino porque hacer que las cosas se demoren más es una técnica muy obvia para hacer que los días tengan algo más de peso, si es que se le puede llamar así.

 Ya después, cuando empecé a escribir, me puse una hora para despertarme con alarma incluida. Me despertaba minutos antes de las nueve de la mañana, me demoraba una hora o una hora y media escribiendo y luego me premiaba a mi mismo con el desayuno que podía variar de solo cereal a un sándwich de gran tamaño o de pronto algo especial que hubiésemos comprado en el supermercado y que vendría bien a esa hora. Empecé a darle una estructura a mi rutina de la mañana, y de todo el día de hecho, porque me di cuenta que me faltaba esas líneas, esos muros en mi vida para sentirme menos perdido y más coherente a la hora de decidir o de pensar que hacer en el futuro próximo.

 Hoy en día, de nuevo, mi rutina cambia según el día aunque son variaciones pequeñas. A veces desayuno a las diez y media, a veces una hora más tarde. Duermo más o menos dependiendo de mi nivel de cansancio y, en ocasiones, del nivel de alcohol. Me ducho hacia el mediodía porque no le veo la urgencia a hacerlo antes y hago mi almuerzo a la hora que lo comía en casa que era hacia las dos y media de la tarde. El resto del día lo ocupan las clases o mi esfuerzo por rellenar las horas caminando y conociendo cosas que no sé muy bien que son. Todo va cambiando en todo caso y seguramente tendré otra rutina de estas en unos años y otra más en otros años más.


 En todo caso creo que necesito la estructura de una rutina diaria y no creo que haya nada malo con eso. Solo que, al parecer, no soy muy bueno a la hora de hacer las cosas tan libremente.

domingo, 11 de octubre de 2015

The earring

   The wedding was over and now Christina had to supervise the removal of every single table and fork from the premises. The castle was a very special place to do such celebrations but they always asked for the place to be cleaned thoroughly after each party. It was very late and everyone was not very eager to clean anything but it had to be done. Christina supervised the men and women and checked every room where people may have wandered off to in order to see if it needed cleaning or if thee was something left behind. She found a scarf in a bathroom and even a high heel stuck in the grass in the garden. Another employee found a tie on a tree and a baby bottle beneath one of the tables. But the most beautiful thing Christina found was on a fountain in the garden.

 The water seemed tainted with something but she ignored that and just grabbed the earring that lay there, beyond the surface. The design was very simple but beautiful: an orchid made of metal with a center formed by a large purple precious stone. Christina saw every detail on the earring and realized she had never seen such a beautiful thing worn by anyone in the past. She decided to keep it and look for the owner herself. Maybe that way she could be able to ask where the earring was made so she could herself a pair. When everyone was done cleaning and leaving the place as if nothing had happened there, they were allowed to leave. It was almost four in the morning and everyone just wanted to get home and sleep for as long as they were able to.

 Christina wanted that too. She entered her car, sat down and pulled out the earring from her pocket to put it in her purse. But when she did that, she pricked her finger with the tip of the earring, which fell beneath her seat. Somehow, that had made her feel a little dizzy and her head felt big, like if it was a balloon or something. Christina inhaled deeply many times until she thought she was able to drive. She opened and closed her eyes, turned on the engine and drove in the night. But the truth was she couldn’t see much. She knew she was tired but not as much as she know felt. The car slid off the road a few times but she was able to control it but she knew that couldn’t be done for long.

 On a long curve, she finally succumbed to what she was feeling and let go of the car which when out off the road and into a tree. The airbag was the thing that killed her. The police discovered the car hours later and several members of the staff of the party said that they had seen her drive off after the cleaning was over but really no one knew about the earring. A detective assigned to the case, just in a routine way, discovered the piece of jewelry beneath the scene and he too fell in love with its shape and beauty, so he grabbed it for himself, even if it was evidence from the case. He took it home at night and left it in the kitchen counter.

 In the morning, it was already too late. Her youngest daughter had touched it out of curiosity and pricked herself too. Like Christina, she started to feel groggy. They were able to take her to a hospital but she was slipping away until she died. The doctor couldn’t give a proper explanation, as the child appeared to be falling asleep to very deep slumber but then died. The parents were crushed and stayed home to do the paperwork but they had forgotten about Marta, their housekeeper. She had keys to come in to do her work, so she did. As she mopped the floors, she found the earring and found it to be just marvelous. She had the idea to get it praised and maybe get some money out if it. She had never seen any of the women of the house wearing it, so it shouldn’t be an issue.

   However, Marta lost the earring on the bus. Fortunately, it fell off her pocket and just rolled under a seat, where it wouldn’t be found for some days until a driver checking his transport found it. He took it home, as they had all done. He told his wife it would be a nice pin to wear, in order to give his attire a little bit of class. His wife found a piece to put in his husband’s jacket and she was successful enough, she didn’t even prick a finger. And the jewel looked simply beautiful against the blue suit he had to use for work. He used his jacket like that for many years, been praised by many people when going in the bus.

 Those kind words made his life very happy. But one day, as it was destined to happen, the safety piece his wife had put behind the earring fell silently when he was driving. It was the same day a car crossed his path incorrectly, so he when he stepped on the brakes, he leaned forward violently and pricked his chest with the earring. The crash was blamed for his death. His body was transferred to a morgue, where they would fix him to look perfect. But a young mortician named Lidia fell in love with his pin and took it for herself. When he was buried, his wife thought he was wearing the pin, looking handsome as always but he wasn’t. The pin had a new owner, one that did something the other didn’t.

 Lidia had gotten several piercings and tattoos and she knew what was right. She got home and there she cleaned the earring carefully, avoiding pricking her fingers or damaging in any way the integrity of the piece. Weirdly enough, once she started cleaning the piece the pointy end started to turn purple, just like the jewel it had there. Lidia found this to be very strange so she decided to grab a small plastic bag, put the earring there and go to a friend that worked in a lab. Maybe he would be able to explain what was wrong with it because it was obvious she couldn’t put it on her ears. Maybe it had an infection or some other kind of disease and it wouldn’t be surprising if it had been on a dead man’s suit.

 Larry, Lidia’s “scientific” friend, worked as an assistant in a pharmaceutical company where he worked with various compounds and many advanced machines. When he was able to take the earring to the lab where he worked, he noticed something strange. He asked Lidia if he could damage the piece a bit, specially the tip and she agreed. She wasn’t going to wear it, so no one cared. Larry broke the tip of the earring and a soft purple dust tainted a small plate he had beneath. He had the dust checked and the machines couldn’t tell him exactly what it was but he was able to know what was, chemically, in there. So he did some of reverse science and discovered the dust was some kind of poison.

 But it wasn’t just poison. The earring, apparently, had been dipped into it and then left alone until the metal, and even the jewel, had absorbed the poison. But who would want to do something like that? It was a very complicated way to poison someone but Larry then realized that, looking at the compounds of the poison, it would be unlikely for medical scientists to even know they were dealing with something like that, mainly because the poison seemed to disappear from anywhere in a few hours. Larry told Lidia that maybe a lot of people had been killed by it and no one would ever know as the poison was untraceable and only they knew about its existence and about the earring.

 But then envy made its appearance in the form of a rival to Larry, who just happened to be very good at his job and had found many ways to make the pharmaceutical company win even more money. So this person, this enemy if you will, discovered the ring and thought that if Larry was working with it, it was because it meant something important. So he grabbed it and took him for himself. He took it home and checked it there with a microscope he had but he found nothing and he wouldn’t because the poison was not made to be found. In time, he pricked himself with it, enraged because he couldn’t find something to steal from his rival. His father found his body the next day.


 After that episode, no one really knew what had happened to the earring. Larry always thought he had just lost it but Lidia knew him very well and she knew he wouldn’t just loose something. More deaths happened but, as the people before Lidia, no one was curious or careful enough to handle it. They all thought that the beauty of the piece meant it was made to be worn, to be shown to the world and to be an icon of status and recognition. But it wasn’t. It was just a way to lure the people, the large crowds that believed that beauty was as simple as they were. They didn’t understand that beauty can also be lethal and should always be handled with the uttermost respect and curiosity.