Just the sight of the stretch marks in his
arms, close to his armpits, was enough to make him swim abruptly and very fast,
further into the ocean. He could see the people and the beach getting away, he
couldn’t feel the bottom anymore and, when he stopped, he noticed he had passed
the border marked by the buoys. He swam towards one of them and rested there
for a while. He was very agitated because of the effort, his chest going up and
down. It seemed he was having problem breathing. Shortly after, a lifeguard
boat appeared and offered him help. But he was able to say that he didn’t want
any and then swam towards the beach.
It took him a little more time getting there,
making a few stops along the way. The salty water of the ocean mixed with the
salty water from his tears, but no one knew that or noticed that in the beach.
No one really had seen him going that far, everyone was minding their own
business, not caring if a guy just swam like a mad man. When he got to the
beach, he stood on the edge for a while, cleaning his face and letting the
water drip from his body. Then he walked up to one of the showers by the
walkway and showered thoroughly there, he had sand all over the place. When he
finished he walked up to the parking lot and changed by his car. No one was
there to watch.
After that, he drove home and there he ate one
of those salads, the kind you buy in the supermarket and are already done for
you. He was hungrier than a salad but he didn’t want to go out again and eat
something else. He instinctively gazed at his arm but he had a shirt on now and
didn’t bother to yank up the sleeve or anything. He just finished his salad and
then sat in front of the TV and put some silly documentary about aliens. They
were always on, always with some crazy theory. They were the best shows for him
to sleep to because he didn’t really care what they were all about. He only
knew he was really tired.
When he woke up, the room was in darkness. He
looked at his watch and just sat down, covered his face and then stood up. It
was time to go to the gym. Once he got there, he realized he was too tired. He
tried several machines in a very short time but he just couldn’t do much on any
of them. He didn’t know if he was tired from his earlier workout or if he was
just not in the mood to do any exercise. Even though he clearly wanted to
leave, he made himself stay at least an hour. He didn’t wanted to waste time,
even if he preferred to be home reading or watching TV or doing whatever else
felt more attractive than being in a gym, not being able to do much. Again, in
that place no one really looked at him and he luckily wore a sleeve shirt too.
Somehow he had never been a sleeveless shirt type of guy. He just wasn’t many
things…
When he finally came out of the gym, he intended
to go and eat another salad in his home but he chose, instead, to go and walk
around for a while. He was very close to home but he didn’t wanted to go there
just yet. He wanted to think for a while or maybe not think at all. He just
wanted to keep moving because when he stayed still he began torturing himself
and he didn’t wanted that at all. He walked looking at the people going up and
down the street, some were alone and others were in couples or even in groups.
Some seemed happy and others not so much. Some were in a hurry and others just
sat in the benches and just were there, not doing much more than looking at the
cars and at the people, like him.
He stopped to check out many store windows,
some of them selling toys, others videogames or home appliances or even art.
The street on which the gym was located, the same that passed near his house,
was very commercial and active. And as the night progressed, more and more
people popped all over the place, entering bar and restaurants, greeting people
with hugs or only a cold handshake. It was Saturday night after all and
everyone was out and about, no one wanted to be alone at home and he was
certainly one of those. Normally he wouldn’t really care but this time was
different. He felt he needed to stay outside for the remainder of the night
because if he went back home he would do the same thing he did every time his
thoughts cornered him.
People never really watched, never really
cared. They always excused themselves on a false sense of modesty or on a fake
respect that no one ever asked of anyone. When he exercised in the gym the
first few months he had a trainer. She was very strong and beautiful. He knew
she saw the marks on his forearms, on his forehead. They were difficult not to
look at if one really thought about it but she never mentioned anything and
they saw each other everyday for at least three months. How could she not say
anything? Did she really not mind or was she appealing to that false sense of
respect that no one ever asked for? It’s not that he wanted to be asked but at
the same time he did, he needed to be recognized.
But no one had ever asked, no one had ever
been interested. Besides he was very good at curing himself, he knew how to do
it in order for anyone to miss the obvious marks. But nevertheless, they were
obvious and anyone could have seen the problems, what was bubbling below his
surface, that emotionless face and the stretch marked arms and the tired body.
Everyone knew but no one cared. He was aware with that everywhere he went, even
in that street, walking among people that seemed to be having an ice time with
each other, that looked like they couldn’t care less about what happened beyond
that place.
He stopped at a small park and realized he had
passed his home several blocks ago. He turned around but as he did, a
voluptuous figure appeared in front of him. He didn’t really want to have that
interaction, not then. It is common that the only people that see those in the
shadows are people in the shadows themselves and these people really were. The
police, the city officials and the neighbors all knew about it but no one
really did anything to prevent it. Prostitutes had taken over and had taken the
park as their place to work and get work. The lamps were not as bright as they
could have been and some places were just very dark at night. Not only
prostitutes hid in the shadows and he knew that well.
Before she could offer him anything, he told
her he wasn’t interested. She walked closer, in order to get in his way. She was
very tall and had very strong legs and a wide chest and back. But she had the
most luxurious head of hair he had ever seen on a prostitute. He repeated
himself, told her he wasn’t interested. She then explained what she could do
for him, what she liked to do and what he might like to do. She got neared but
he took a step back. She smiled and he didn’t and she put a hand on his
shoulder. It was a heavy hand and he felt as if he had sunken a couple of
centimeters because of that hand. She assured they would have the best time
ever and that she wouldn’t charge him too much. But the think her arm, pulled
her hand off him and told her he wasn’t interested.
This time he walked away and heard the
prostitute insulting him and saying a bunch of derogatory terms, one after the
other. She was like a machine of insults and, it had to be said, she was very
creative about it. He tried not to hear any more that meant that he had a small
penis and just walked home as fast as he could. It was late and the weather
outside got very cold without him noticing. When he got home he took off his
gym clothes and put on a pajama. Again, he turned on the TV and tried to watch
some documentary about sharks, then a movie about some teenagers lost in an
island and finally some cartoons. But the thought was already there and he couldn’t
get the image out of his head. He had to do it, he had no option.
Hours later, he was in his bed, head on the
pillow looking up but with his eyes wide open. He was shaking and his arms were
slightly opened, as if he was playing to be an angel of sorts in his own bed.
But it wasn’t an angel one would have thought of when looking at the large
blood stains in the blankets. They were rapidly expanding, forming the wings of
the possible angel. But no real angel could have been found there. He closed
his eyes to sleep and, this time, he cried again. He understood this was the
day in which it finally got to him, in which he lost his grip on everything. He
was finally lost and there was no one that could save him. Then again, there
was no one at all.
