Life..?

  The almost empty bottle of alcohol slipped from her fingers and crashed below her, on top of the massive rocks that formed the beach in that part of the port. It wasn’t an area to go an have fun of anything, rather a place for people who loved seafood to go and have a delicious dish of crab, lobster, fish or any other creature from the sea. The small pier on which Cynthia was seating, her legs dangling like she used to do when she was younger, was located in a part closed to the public, far from the restaurants and the bustling ambiance of the now exclusive and upscale area of commerce that was located a few steps away.

 Where she was, she could hear the ocean crashing softly against the rocks and then pull back and then crash the rocks again. She found that beautiful sound to be very soothing, especially at that precise moment of her life when she was feeling cornered by thoughts and things that were happening all around her. She knew the place from one time she had been invited to a party there and now she looked at the pieces of glasses on the rocks, as if they had the answer to all of her problems. And apparently, the answer was to open up the other bottle she kept on her coat and start drinking again, no regrets at all.

 Cynthia had never really been a lover of alcohol but it felt soothing for that moment to do something like that. She wasn’t into drugs or anything like that, having a crippling fear of dying from an overdose, so she would more often than not go to her nearest store and buy a couple of middle-sized bottles of alcohol, which she could feet nicely into her large winter coat. And it was that, the weather during that time of year, that made it all the more perfect. She knew it was the perfect way for her to handle what was going on and she wouldn’t let anyone else decide for her what to do or how to do it.

 As she took a good sip of the clear liquid in the bottle, she paid special attention to a fishing vessel entering the port. She was certain no one could see her there, on the spot she had chosen to be in, but realized it would be very annoying to have someone come and stop her from going on and on with that part of her life. Because that’s what it had become: alcohol had become the perfect gateway “drug” to make her feel a little less, something she really needed each time she was reminded of her past but also her present and the prospects her future held. Everything in life triggered her and made her unable to respond normally to anything.

 The fishing boat passed and Cynthia waved at it, already a bit drunk from the alcohol but also because of the cold. She closed her coat a little bit more, realizing she had chosen an especially cold evening to go out and sit over the ocean. But the truth was that she had never “chosen” such a place or such an activity. It was only the thing she could do without feeling she was doing the wrong thing or acting in an undesirable manner. She wasn’t a mess there, by herself.

  It was also easy to hear the screams and laughter coming from the people in the restaurants, but Cynthia tried hard not to pay attention. One reason was that she didn’t really liked any of the people that visited such places. They were mostly snobbish, the type of folk that don’t even realize people don’t normally have the kind of money to dine in such places every single night. That was exactly what she realized the day she was invited to a party there and soon realized how much of a mistake it had been to attend that event, at that time and in that place. It was all wrong and there was no real way to mend it.

She made everyone feel uncomfortable and the only thing she won out of that experience was the fact that she was very clear on how other people perceived her and what she didn’t really like about all of them. She was one of those people that don’t really mind what you say about them or how you say it, or at least they seem to not care at all. That’s way her appearance in that party was such a disaster, even if other things were feeling as if they had been improving in her life for quite some time. But those awful moments of social awkwardness made everything feel worse and seem worse, and she didn’t really need that.

 When she finished the bottle, she dropped it intentionally over the rocks, applauding loudly when the glass shattered and pieces flew all over the place, to the ocean, over the algae and on the rock. No one appeared after she had clapped. Maybe no one cared or maybe she had a way with the city and its strange places, but her next move was to go back to the mainland and try to exit the area without anyone looking at her. She was successful, after avoiding to look back on her way to the exit. Once there, she walked, cold and shaking but feeling a bit better. The cold wind on her cheeks was apparently doing wonders too.

 She sat at the bus stop and realized she was a bit tipsy. She looked around, and realized her only other companion was a very elderly woman who didn’t even have a reason to be walking around so late in such a remote place. Cynthia looked at her and tried to guess if she was actually younger than she seemed or if she seemed to be into the kind of things that hip people liked doing over there. She didn’t have much choice anyway, as the bus appeared soon and they both entered. Cynthia sat behind the driver and the old lady walked very slowly to a seat by the middle of the bus. Maybe she was buying something she wasn’t supposed to.

When Cynthia got home, she felt really dizzy and also very tired. She dropped on her bed in two seconds after she had arrived and realized, in a moment, that she was drunk and that she hated most of the people with whom she interacted ever. Everyone including doctors, shrinks, supposed friends and family and all other people that always try for you to have the life that they want for you, instead of the want for yourself. She really hated them, with feeling.  

 She then decided to strip for bed and stood in front of the mirror, looking at her almost naked body. Cynthia was not a supermodel but she wasn’t the ugliest woman in the world, she was fine. But she didn’t have much else aside a degree she never used and a lot of debt towards her parents. She was one of those so-called “leeches” that live in their parents’ home for years and never really go. Her fortieth birthday seemed close, even if it wasn’t going to happen for some more years. It was pressing on her, her mind and the body she was looking at.

 It was obvious that she didn’t really feel great about all of that but even so she got herself into a pajama and then into bed. She heard her parents entering the house right when she was about to fall asleep. It was nice she had chosen that precise night to be able to come back without her parents being there and asking something about her life or, much worse, not saying anything but giving her looks and glances, certain attitudes too, that made her realize what she already knew. But how the overcome the fact that she was a non- achiever?

 How was she supposed to overcome the fact that she was just one person, unable to change the world around her? That’s why she needed to drink, why she really needed to have a proper reaction to everything happening around her. She could just be there and take it or end it all in two seconds. Neither of those two options was an actual option, she didn’t have access to any of them. So, she had to endure and keep at it until something happened. But it had a toll on her and maybe that one would be the last straw for her and her consciousness. She knew very well she was not the kind of person to hold for years and years.

 Cynthia often found herself looking up at her ceiling, wondering about all of those people she had met at least once. She wondered about their lives, their success and their stories of greatness and achievements. And she felt so tremendously alone after that. She remembered the times she had borrowed money from her father to pay for a quality education and it had all amounted to nothing. They didn’t really say it but she knew, deep that, that it was the case.

 So every night was a struggle and every new day felt as one more iron ball had been put in a jar representing her life. It got heavier and heavier, never easy to properly carry around.

Fortune favors the bold

   Every piece had fallen exactly in the place she had wanted. Every single one of them represented something she had been looking to achieve for a long time and now, she was finally able to reach every single goal she had ever wanted to attain. She was merely hours away from all of it and the only thing she could do was looking at her laptop and then at the city from her balcony and then again to the screen, where everything should appear at the right time.

 She had decided to be alone for that moment. The idea had never been to share this monumental achievement with anyone else, but to celebrate it alone in a very personal way. She had a bottle of her favorite champagne at hand, her most comfortable and loved clothes on and she was in the most private place she could ever be able to get to: her own home. Everything was just as she wanted and she had insisted on disappearing for that night, avoiding people constantly in order to have a few hours all to herself.

 It’s not like she was going to party hard until the next day came. She was not as young as she was when everything had started and, even if she felt younger, she had never been one to do that sort of thing. She had achieved her goals because she had been so focused, taking care of every single thing from the moment she had decided she would stop being the person she was during her youth and start her transformation into the woman she really wanted to be. It would take time but it would all be very much worth it.

 And it was. The sole feeling of being there, in that beautiful apartment, nestled in the mountains, with such an amazing view of her preferred city in the world, could not be topped by anything. She had everything she had always wanted: not only objects such as clothes and jewelry or furniture and the proper décor, but also things that no one could never buy with money. Things that only experience and intelligence could teach a person their worth and the real position that every single thing and person had to have around them.

 She had been patient and very controlling of it all, and it was worth it. Only minutes away from the awaited time, she poured some of the champagne into a tall glass and opened a box of fresh strawberries that she had picked up herself from a local farmers market. The smell was sweet and luscious, the perfect thing to go with the night she was having. She felt as if tears would start coming down her face in any minute, but she had also learned how to prepare for that: just open her eyes wider, smile and let the waves of good energy enter her body. When the clock on her laptop struck the hour, a shower of pyrotechnics covered the city.

 Champagne disappeared in a moment. She poured herself another glass and then another one after that. She saw the bright lights over the city and felt as she had never felt before. It was then tears begun pouring down her face and she didn’t bother to wipe them out or do anything about them. She wanted to cry and scream and to whatever she wanted because, when time had come, she became who she had always wanted to be and it was something that had never been guaranteed, so it was an understandable reaction.

 She remembered how, in her first years in the company she now ran, many people had tried to make her feel as if she didn’t belong there. They made comments very often, about her parents and her siblings, about their house and her clothes and a truth they claimed to be irreplaceable: that no girl from a background like the one she had would ever be able to achieve anything in such a competitive world. Everyone was against her and she had to take it all with patience and care, always thinking about the future.

 Every time they slammed her with horrible words, she would deflect them with indifference and, with time, she learned to outwit them at every turn, making them feel that the girl they had seen coming into their company was not the same they were standing in front of years later. She became much more certain of her choices and even dared to share her past life with no regrets whatsoever. Contrary to her enemies’ beliefs, she gained a strong following because of that choice. People regarded her as a true beacon of light to look up to.

 Power could be gained easily, or so she thought, if she followed her well thought plan from the beginning. That had started years before, when she had decided to save for school doing horrible and menial jobs. But she got to the point where she could study and also work, and she did. By the time her bosses understood she could not be so easily “taken care of”, she was almost untouchable because of the support of the people that worked under her. They knew that if she left, they would leave after her and sink the company in the blink of an eye.

 That power grew exponentially until she made it to the top ranking of the company. She made it to the board of directors before she turned forty years old and, by then, most of her competition had either died out or moved on to other endeavors. She ultimately took over completely and then, it was impossible to pretend she hadn’t achieved something that seemed impossible. The former owner was still there, but she had become the face of the company they had owned for so many years and there was no way they could live without her. And she knew it very well, even if her plan still had some stages to be accomplished.

 The night of New Year’s Eve, the one when she celebrated with champagne on the balcony of her elegant home, she fifty-six years old. She had effectively ended her plans, the ones she had designed from the age of fifteen. She had executed every single stage of the whole thing and she celebrated the fact that she had won. No one in the planet could argue with her that, after so many years, she had been the one to come on top and not him. Not Anthony Klein Volker, the man that was supposed to own all of it once his father died.

 Anthony was her prime target and the one she really wanted to get with all of her scheming and plotting. Of course, Lavinia and Arthur, Anthony’s siblings, could not be left out of it all. And not his mother Clara either, or his father Jonathan. None of them were going to be left alone until she got what she wanted and, what she really wanted more than anything in the world, was to have every single thing that belonged to them: every property, all the money, their precious company, their transports and even their pets. She wanted it all.

 And although most people loved her for being who she was and became, some hated her. Most of them sided with the Klein Volker’s because they had business with them or because they knew the truth and were the kind of people that hated when someone brings out the shit that has stained the carpet and is making everyone ask themselves why there’s such an awful smell in the room. Of course, they knew, she could clearly see that in their eyes when they tried to scare her out of making one of her bold moves.

 But she moved. She moved because Anthony had been the one that had assaulted her one night, after he had seen her in one the company’s open picnics for children in need. The oldest of the Klein Volker’s raped her and his father Jonathan, instead of vomiting when he saw what his son had done, he rewarded him with objects and ordered the girl to vanish, forcing her into a life of prostitution, a life she would never be able to leave. They thought she was weak and that she could be punished into compliance, shutting her mouth forever.

 And she did, for a while. She did work as a prostitute and saved money that way. Then she got another job and then another and she started school and education became her best weapon against everything that had ever happened to him. When they saw him, they didn’t recognize her at first.

 But, after a while, they did. But it was too late to say or do anything. She had them right where she wanted them and she claimed revenge in a myriad of ways, in every single one of them because they all knew what had happened and had all collaborated in her destruction. Yet, fortune favors the bold.

I choose freedom

   I had never been the type of man that smokes. However, after so much shit happening around and to me, I figured smoking was not really the worst thing in the world. I had received all the cancer pep talks, all the advice to tell me it looked so disgusting and the smell was so repelling. But I didn’t care. I had already been in a hospital for several weeks and had been given a bunch of things to do, as if I had just entered middle school or something. I threw all that crap out to the garbage and decided to leave as freely as I could.

 Then again, freedom was a word people said but rarely understood in these times. Freedom is not what it used to be. Now freedom has limits, it has rules and regulations. Freedom stopped existing a long time ago and gave way to all these people that just want to rule over everything people are able to do with their bodies, including the use of their penis and their brain. Freedom doesn’t mean shit anymore. The good thing is that I don’t give a rat’s behind either. The world around can crumble and I will crumble with it.

 In my small flat, the one I barely have money to pay for, it is me who determines what freedom is. And my version of freedom involves not using clothes around the house, except when cooking and just doing whatever I want, in whichever way I want to do it. I eat whatever I feel like and I invite all the people I want, when I want it. And if I want to be alone for days, I do that too. Books and movies become my refuge and I binge them like crazy for a while until I’m ready to be in the world of the living again.

 I do have sex when some of the people I invite come. They seem a little bit scared sometimes, because my flat is not the kind of mess they are expecting to see. They look at me and think they have me all sorted it, some weird hipster fuck that rarely bathes, smokes weed and smells funny. And then I’m not, because people often prefer to form ideas of others in their heads instead of properly getting bothered to really know someone. Then again, sometimes there’s no time to really get to know each other.

 Sometimes they only come here for a fuck and that’s all we do. And I try to make it good for them, because if I went to a guy’s house, after paying the bus fare and maybe dressing nice and getting something to do before fucking, then I would want the whole experience to be at least enjoyable. Sadly, many times that doesn’t happen, especially when people come thinking one thing and then it becomes this other event in which no one has sex and everyone is miserable because they are dealing with some kind of shit. Those dates are the worst and after those I go back to my books and movies.

 Weird or not, I never mix both those things. I never ask someone to come and then watch a movie. Not only does that seem counter productive to me, its almost invasive and unbearable. I enjoy watching movies and those that I love are like precious gems to me. Sharing them with people that may not be able to see what I see in them, would be problematic, to say the least. And I never talk about books, religions, politics or anything like that before having sex. No idea how many right-wingers I’ve brought in. And I don’t want to know.

 Besides sex, I really like to cook and sometimes I do that with the only friends I have. We’re only three, two guys and one girl and we like to get together sometimes and just chat away, and talk about all those things I can’t and won’t talk about with the people I sometimes bring in. It’s fun, because it makes me change a little bit every now and then. It makes the place look different and feel different, and it’s not all about the food we make. It’s about the trust and all the other feelings that are able to exist in those circumstances.

 Those two are my only friends in the whole planet. There’s no one else. I know the have other friends, their social lives being way more diverse and entertaining than mine. They sometimes mention those other people but I think they know how uncomfortable it is for me to hear about people I don’t know. They only do it when they want to make a point or tell a funny story. And its not because I forbid it in my house or something, it is just that they know what kind of person I am and they have decided to respect that.

 They ask me about the people I bring in my house and always ask questions, trying to get funny stories and anecdotes from me. They know how it is and that weird stuff always happens. I tell them and they usually laugh their asses off and that’s how we know our gathering is going well: by counting how many times we’ve laughed as hard as we can. Of course, we don’t actually count the times but we are very aware that some times things are different, because of some exterior occurrence that has the power to change the ambiance.

 That happened on the first meeting after I got out of the hospital. They had visited me there a couple of times and when we decided to meet up just the three of us, it just seemed odd. For most of the time, it felt like we didn’t even knew who the others were, as if three complete strangers had suddenly appeared in some random living room with glasses of wine and little things to eat. Even the food tasted funny that time. Thankfully, it all ended very early and the next time we actually discussed it all and started having fun like all those other times before. It was a tough situation.

 The third kind of visitors I get in my flat are my mom, my dad and my brother. They often come all at the same time, as if it was an invasion. I have to say that I really like catching up with mom and dad and I try to visit them in their place as often as I can. It gets a little bit tiring because they always want me to do something for them, but I guess that’s one of the things that happen when your only brothers is married and has a full family of his own to take care of. They assume he’s too busy to ever help at all.

 Of course, he kind of is but he could still visit them more often. The reason he comes to my house when they come is because he can then do two visits at the same time and that’s time saved for him. The thing is he brings his wife with him and his two children. Yeah, I think she’s kind of a bitch and I know she thinks something similar about me. And the children are okay but a little bit to overprotected, so they tend to do dumb things and ask the stupidest questions, but I really do not blame them for that. I blame her.

 She’s always going around my house telling them not to touch my things or not to do one thing or the other. I always tell the kids, away from her, that they can do whatever they want as long as they don’t break anything or do any serious damage to my place. But besides that, they can jump on the bed or flood the sink and play with boats or whatever the fuck they want to do. Oh, and she also hates that I curse but, as it is my place and I was in a hospital for so long, even my parents have decided not contradict me on that.

 I love watching her all pissed off while we eat. Not only because my concept of freedom goes much further than hers, but also because she knows she cannot say a word. She’s in my house and they are my nephews, my parents and my brother. In a way, she’s the one that doesn’t belong there. But I would never tell that to my brother who loves the woman like a mad idiot. He knows we don’t get along but has decided to ignore that in order to have a peaceful family life. And I greatly admire him for doing that. Very well done.

 When everyone leaves, I clean and get everything in order. I take off my clothes and lie down in my bed and do what I like, read something or watch a movie. But sometimes I also stay there, looking at the window or at the ceiling, just thinking about how much my life changed after I had the accident.

 We all thought I was going to die. We really did. The doctors still tell me it was nothing short of a miracle that I was able to live through that, to survive. I do consider myself lucky but I wonder about the responsibility that gives me. I’ve decided to be really free. That’s what I think the world wants from me.