We all know Doris

   Doris had never been the most beautiful woman in the world. She was rather plain and didn’t have anything special going on for her. Besides, she was already over fifty years old and women her age simply didn’t have the same opportunities in life that younger ones. She couldn’t complain about her job, because she had been very lucky to keep it for so long but she would have loved to get married at least once in her lifetime. She had always dreamed of wearing a wedding dress and having one of those fun parties to celebrate her nuptials.

 She had her chance when she was around twenty-four years old. An older man had wanted her in marriage and her father had agreed to it. Of course, Doris didn’t want to marry him but, in those times, women did whatever their father told them to and it was very difficult to do something different than what parents told their children. Doris cried and stopped eating for a week but that didn’t change his father’s mind. However, the old man that wanted to marry Doris died only a couple of days before the actual ceremony so she was saved.

 When she looked back to that memory, she found herself thinking very differently from that young girl she used to be. For example, she regretted the fact that she was never interested in knowing more about the man she was going to marry. Of course, they practically didn’t know each other but she could have asked and maybe, just maybe, that would have changed everything, even the fact that he had died. Yes, fifty year old Doris thought it was a good idea to marry a man that was, at least, thirty years older than her.

 Be that as it may, she never got to wear that wedding dress. Besides, she had to see her two brothers and three sisters getting married. She had to go to their weddings and pretend to be happy for them but she never really was. She also had to go to other weddings, where she was even a bridesmaid. That was even crueler for her because she got too close to the real thing but it just wasn’t the same. It was all an illusion to keep her away from the one thing she wanted in life, the one thing you couldn’t really buy or force to happen.

 In her work, however, Doris was successful. She was the assistant of the principal in the same high school where she and her brothers and sisters had gone. At first it had been weird to work there but she adjusted just fine in no time. Now she loved to reminisce about all those good-looking boys that had walked the hallways back when she was a teenager. She found herself thinking about them a little bit too often and even took to the social networks to track some of them down to see if they had changed a lot or not so much. The results were predictable.

 Before turning fifty, Doris had gone over backwards to get a man. It sounds a little bit too desperate but it was what she wanted. She opened profiles in most of the matchmaking sites in the Internet and also downloaded several apps on her phone with the help of one of her nieces. She even started going to bars on Friday nights to see if she could attract any man. Doris didn’t even mind if it was only a crazy sex night but that didn’t happen either, which was frustrating and also hurtful for her. She felt even older than she really was.

 As her birthday grew closer, she decided to go to all these events that advertised that you would get a couple in no time. Some of them were events where you met several men in a limited amount of time and others were holidays for singles in which the goal was to meet all of the people that were there with you and then just see who you had the best chemistry with. The thing about all of those was that they were only a waste of money. She always came back home disappointed on everything and even sadder than before.

 After she turned fifty, it was as if something inside of her changed. She didn’t want to keep being desperate and accepted the fact that she was never going to find anyone. Of course, she remembered all of those family dinners for special holidays when she had to lie to her family or confess to them that she was still alone. As her family was concerned, Doris had been in a relationship with several men but it never really worked out for several reasons. Some didn’t have a job; some others were scoundrel and they were even a couple that ended up being gay.

 Now that her parents were dead, those family dinners were over. She rarely met her brothers and sisters, only in funerals and such events, which was great for her because that way she didn’t need to talk about her private life. Stopping the lies had been really good for her because for a fragment of her life, she knew too well all the things she need to say to make a believable lie. She was so good at it that it seemed that she was beginning to believe everything she said herself. It was a very sad thing to do and it was for the best that it was all over.

 So, after fifty, Doris was not interested in finding anyone new. She wasn’t interested in anything to be honest. She went from her home to her job and back home every evening. On the weekends, she spent several hours tending to her dog Fluffy and her small but well taken care of garden. It was her pride and joy, as she really loved to spend hours and hours getting everything to perfection. It was her passion and it helped her not thinking about thoughts that hurt her.

 One day, by the advice of her next-door neighbor, Doris sent pictures of her garden to a specialized magazine, just for fun. Her neighbor had said that sometimes they sent people over to take pictures for their magazines and that was always fun. She thought that Doris could be one of the proud owners of a famous garden. At first she wasn’t too sure but one night she decided to do it, just to add a little bit of fun to her life. Maybe it was the wine she had been drinking, but she was as happy as one could be while taking the pictures.

 Days later, she received an email from the magazine telling her that they were interested in a visit and asked her about her availability. Sure enough, they were there the following weekend. Her neighbor stood close by the whole time, showing Doris her two thumbs up every time the photographer took a picture or when the interviewer asked Doris about some of the flowers and she answered in the best way possible. They were only to people but she felt overwhelmed for a moment and had to take deep breaths when they weren’t watching.

 The interviewer, shortly before leaving, told her that her pictures would be in the mix for the next issue, which would portray suburban gardens from the country. She could be in or out, they didn’t know yet so she had to be very attentive of the issue. For Doris, it was a torture to wait that long because the magazine was released every two months. But thinking about it also made her very happy and proud and it was certainly better than wondering why she was not married or why no man appeared to have any interest in her.

 Sure enough, almost a month and a half later, the magazine’s new issue had her garden in the front page and in at least four other pictures inside. There even was an awkward picture the photographer had taken of her looking at her tulips. She was a bit embarrassed by it but many people thought it was a very nice picture. She kept the issue by her bed, to look it every time she felt down. Doris knew not many people knew about that magazine but that didn’t matter because it made her feel great and that’s what mattered.

 However, the following week every single person she met greeted her kindly, smiled and congratulated her. At first she was very confused but then she read a letter she had gotten from the magazine: she had been awarded a prize for the best suburban garden in the country. The prize came with a cash prize and an actual medal that would be given to her in a ceremony in the magazine’s headquarters. For the first time in her life, Doris was really happy, for real, and did not relate her mood to her relationship status. No man could make her feel better than that recognition.

Fachada escolar

   Todo lo que había sucedido hasta entonces había sido producto de las decisiones de otras personas. Siendo adolescentes, ninguno de ellos había tenido control sobre su vida hasta entonces. O al menos eso era lo que se suponía, porque por algún tiempo más seguirían dependiendo de sus padres. De todas maneras, terminar esa etapa era un símbolo que significaba un poco más de libertad en sus vidas. Sus padres ya no estarían encima de ellos diciéndoles que hacer o que no hacer. En teoría, ahora irían por el mundo sin nada más que su criterio personal.

 Para todos había sido un año bastante difícil y eso casi nada tenía que ver con los exámenes y demás pruebas que se hacían en la escuela. Esa era la parte fácil. Lo difícil había sido ser parte del grupo de chicos que se habían salvado, por azares del destino, del incendio ocurrido en uno de los buses que transportan a los niños a diario a sus casas. Un día horrible uno de esos buses explotó a plena hora de salida de clases, cuando todos hacían fila para subir a ese y a otros buses. La ruta que cubría el bus afectado era la más popular de todas.

 Ese día murieron cuarenta niños, muy pocos de manera instantánea. Lo que muchos tuvieron que ver y sentir ese día era mucho más de lo que la gran mayoría de adultos siente y ve a lo largo de su vida. Muchos de los muertos eran sus amigos y otros eran incluso parte de su familia. Hermanos, primos y demás habían muerto. La escuela tuvo que cerrar por dos semanas, mientras se esclarecían las razones del siniestro. Algunos pensaban que era por culpa del colegio y su política de hacer que los niños abordaran los buses a toda prisa.

 Obligaban a los choferes a quedarse en los vehículos con el motor encendido y a los niños a hacer filas ordenadas para moverse lo más rápido posible y así terminar pronto el abordaje. Así se había estado haciendo por años hasta que la tragedia tuvo lugar. El chofer del bus comprometido también había muerto y muchos lo culparon a él de lo ocurrido. Su familia tuvo que soportar insultos y otras humillaciones. Eso hasta que una investigación juzgó culpable a la escuela y no a una persona en particular. La ciudad se volvió un caos.

 Y los niños quedaron en la mitad de la controversia. A muchos los llamaban para dar testimonio, fuera en la policía o con autoridades de más alto rango que se involucraron debido a la seriedad de lo ocurrido. Algunos otros hacían entrevistas a la televisión, cosa que se usó por un largo tiempo para ganar dinero fácil. La persona que estuviera un poco mal de fondos nada más tenía que llamar a un periódico y decir que había sido testigo de la masacre en la escuela, incluso si técnicamente no era un masacre. Los medios querían sangre.

 En la ceremonia de graduación de ese año escolar, que tuvo lugar unos siete meses después de la tragedia, tuvo un minuto de silencio en memoria de las víctimas. El problema que tenían los graduados era que siempre los verían como aquellos que habían vivido, incluso si los que no se habían visto afectados eran más que los muertos en la explosión. Eso no importaba pues para siempre habían sido condenados a cargar esa cadena de eventos. Toda la vida la gente les preguntaría sobre ello y tendrían que responder de alguna manera.

 Algunos de los chicos no podían vivir bajo presión y decidieron irse de la ciudad y muchos del país. De los que se habían graduado, más de la mitad había decidido que no podían quedarse en el lugar donde siempre serían víctimas o sobrevivientes. Muchos querían ser más que eso, querían ser su propia persona y no sombras de quienes habían muerto por lo que había sido claramente un accidente. No querían vivir en un lugar don por el pasado se los juzgaba sin tomar en cuenta quienes eran o lo que pensaban del mundo que los rodeaba.

 Incluso los que habían perdido a sus hermanos y hermanas u otros familiares, estaban cansados de ser comparados con los que ya no estaban. Algunos estaban tan enojados por la situación, que se volcaron a las redes sociales para dejar salir su rabia. Hubo un chico en especial, uno muy brillante y de los mejores académicamente, que publicó un articulo extenso en su pagina de Facebook explicando como era de ridículo pensar que todos los muertos eran buenos y que todos los vivos habían hecho algo mal para seguir allí.

 Como era uno de los alumnos más brillantes de la escuela, su discurso no fue tan discutido ni controversial. Lo que hizo la mayoría de la ciudad fue ignorar las verdades que decía, pues era siempre más fácil quedarse con la versión simple de los hechos en los que todos los muertos eran buenísimas personas. Nadie quería escuchar como uno de los matones de la escuela también había muerto en el incendio. No, para ellos no era un matón sino un alma inocente que había muerto de manera horrible como todo los demás. Y hasta cierto punto, era verdad.

 Lo que muchos querían que se supiera es que muchos de sus compañeros muertos no eran precisamente hermanas de la caridad. Aunque las directivas del colegio lograron disipar dudas a causa de la tragedia, una gran crisis se estaba avecinando en el lugar por cuenta de la venta de drogas en el colegio. Eso sin contar los alumnos que metían alcohol y los que tenían relaciones sexuales en las instalaciones del colegio. Se decía que alguna incluso lo había hecho con un profesor.

 El fuego del incendio había sido, en ese caso, como un bálsamo curador para la escuela. Se habían salvado por poco de la humillación de haber sido declarados uno de los peores lugares para que los padres enviaran a sus hijos a aprender. Se salvaron de que la gente se diera cuenta que esa imagen perfecta que trataban de mostrar, esa imagen de estabilidad, era una gran mentira. Y eso lo hicieron durante los meses siguientes a la tragedia en incluso mucho después. Al fin y al cabo el dolor era una manera de manipular más fácilmente a las personas.

 Como respuesta, un grupo pequeño de alumnos, casi todos egresados el año del incendio, decidieron crear una asociación para denunciar todo lo que estaba mal con la escuela, incluyendo el destapar de algunos de los muertos en la tragedia. Buscaban hacerle ver a la sociedad, con fotos, videos y muchas otras pruebas, que no todo lo que pintaba la escuela era verdad. Recordaron, por ejemplo, cómo tres alumnos se habían suicidado el año anterior al incendio. No era algo que se recordara nunca, afortunadamente para el colegio.

 Eso sí, solo uno de ellos lo había hecho en terrenos del colegio. El resto lo habían hecho en sus hogares. El punto era que tres eran demasiados niños muertos, al comienzo sin razón aparente, de una misma escuela y de edades similares. El grupo de alumnos descubrió, gracias a declaraciones de amigos e incluso de familiares, que uno de los muertos en el incendio los acosaba constantemente, insultándolos de mil maneras y ultrajándolos mentalmente de las formas más asquerosas que alguien pudiese pensar.  De haber sido juzgado, hubiese sido considerado un psicópata.

 Pero nadie quería ver lo que había pasado. Incluso las familias afectadas parecían querer dejar todo como estaba, no revolver las cosas porque siempre que el polvo de levantaba pasaba algo malo. La gente joven, sin embargo, tenía mucha rabia. Así era porque la sociedad en la que vivían parecía ser renuente a una acción tan básica como la de gritar, denunciar así todo lo que estaba mal con todo. Muchos intentaron por mucho tiempo hacer que la verdad saliera a la luz, pero casi siempre fue en vano. Por eso decidieron también enfocarse en el presente.

Esa fue la llave del éxito para la asociación de alumnos pues descubrieron que la escuela seguía siendo la misma, incluso bajo esa capa de humildad con la que se cubrían siempre que hablaban de la tragedia. El matoneo seguía, así como las drogas. Con ayuda de alumnos más jóvenes, se destapó pronto la olla podrida y ni los padres ni las autoridades pudieron seguir con la cabeza enterrada en el suelo. Era la hora de abrir los ojos y poner manos a la obra para remover la mala hierba de su atormentada ciudad.

Lemon slices

   She cut a slice of lemon and put it on the edge of the glass. One of the waitresses came in a second and grabbed it, taking the drink to its table. Working on a bar wasn’t the best paying job ever but no one ever get bored during a shift. Bronwyn had been working there for almost a year and she had already witnessed every single kind of thing you could see at a bar. From the beginning of a fistfight to a couple falling in love. She had seen first kisses and last dates. She had even been a shoulder to cry on for some people.

 It wasn’t like she had looking for that specific job or anything. The reality was that Bronwyn had not found a proper job in the two years after she had graduated college. She had a diploma that made her a professional engineer but she had never been able to work as one. Every single company she had sent her CV to, turned her down because she had no experience. But how could she gain any experience if no company would hire her? It was the eternal struggle and it got worse as time went on. She was desperate and there’s when her friend Alicia gave her the idea.

 Alicia had been dating a guy who owned a bar. The place was not very big but it had a very good location. As Bronwyn’s friend, Alicia offered her a job in her boyfriend’s club. She told her it would be nice for her to have at least one paying job in her information and that it would only be for a short period of time. Bronwyn wasn’t very convinced by that. She really wanted to find something that suited her better but Alicia reminded her of how much time she had spent looking for that. Besides, it would be fun for her to be a bartender.

 The first thing she had to do before taking the job was studying a little bit about the drinks that she would have to serve. Alicia gave her a copy of the menu of the bar and Bronwyn looked for the appropriate way to do those drinks. She practiced by watching videos online and failing once and again. She dropped several mixers to the ground before she could do the shaking moves the right way. The rest of the things she had to learn were quite easy and it was just about remembering the right ingredients and the amounts of alcohol she had to use.

 She practiced a lot because she wanted to be really good in her first job. If she was going to do it, Bronwyn had to feel she was doing the best thing she could do. The very first day she worked on the bar, she impressed everyone with her moves, despite being very nervous about something she hadn’t realized she had to do: talk to people. She had always being kind of shy but talking to half-drunks and people in almost darkness was much easier than doing it as if they were outside.

Her first day was an absolute success. Alicia came around late to watch her for a bit and then congratulated her on how much energy she put into doing the drinks. Bronwyn couldn’t really talk much because she was always focused on making the drinks properly and not missing one thing about them. She supposed that, in time, she would be able to do them without thinking that much. And it was true. After only a month in the bar she began to be more relaxed and even made friends with the other people in the bar and some of the clients.

 Besides, she found out people could give her tips and some of them were really good tippers. It was very clear for her where they came to, but it was pretty obvious that Alicia’s boyfriend had attracted the right crowd to the bar. They dressed with expensive clothes and paid for several drinks that large groups would consume. Some nights it was truly insane, seeing these rich youngsters drink and drink and their wallets never feeling a single thing from all of that craziness. For Alicia that was simply incredible, as were the tips she received.

  The place had two levels: the lower level was where the bar was located also had a lounge area and a small dancing floor. But the true dancing area and full club experience was upstairs. Lights there were even more scarce so all the waiters had to act as security officers also: they couldn’t allow any bottles or glasses upstairs, only in the tables and the bar in first floor. It was a difficult task for everyone and Bronwyn tried to help as much as she could by always being attentive of the stairs and the people going up to the second floor.

 There had been several times in which people tried to go there with their champagne or whisky bottles and one night in particular they found out why it was so dangerous for that to happen. A very drunk client grabbed his vodka bottle and hid it in his pants. The lights, or lack of them, helped him go unnoticed until he reached the stairs. Bronwyn thought he looked very strange, so she told a waiter to follow him and just see if he was hiding something under his clothes. The waiter did as she said but finding the guy wasn’t easy upstairs.

 It only became clear what he wanted to do once a girl screamed upstairs. Bronwyn almost dropped a bottle when she heard the noise. She ran upstairs automatically, as well as many other people. When they got to the second level, they realized the drunken man had broken the bottle and was threatening a woman with it. The waiter that had gone behind him was trying to convince him to lower the bottle but the he launched himself at the waiter, trying to cut him. Someone, a big guy, grabbed the drunkard before he could do any harm and put him on a lock.

 The bottle fell to the floor and the big guy took the man downstairs. The lights were put on and everyone was asked to leave the scene of the aggression, except for the workers, the drunkard and the girl he had threatened with the bottle. They all waited for the police, who arrived shortly and took the man away. The girl then explained to the officers that she was his ex-girlfriend. She could only guess that he had followed her into the club and had been waiting to do something all night. She was trembling a little bit as she told her story.

 After that, the big guy revealed his identity: it was Victor, Alicia’s boyfriend and owner of the club. He had been there just by chance and had been able to intervene. However, he wasn’t in a very good mood. He told everyone it was a shame that they hadn’t realized he was going up there with a bottle. He told them that they should be much more perceptive about who went up the dance floor. He told everyone he was very disappointed in them. After saying all that, he just left, leaving everyone to clean everything before leaving.

 Bronwyn thought she was out for sure. After all, she had left her post only to see what had happened upstairs. People could have stolen drinks or even money. She was certain that Victor would call her to tell her she was fired or not even that, maybe someone else would tell her. The next day of work, she was really nervous about that but no one ever came in to say anything. Furthermore, every single person that had been working in the club was still there and some of the also thought that they were going to be fired on the spot.

 Apparently, Victor was a much kinder guy that he looked like. That was a good thing for all of them because it wasn’t only Bronwyn that needed the job but every single one of them. From then on, they assigned a waiter to the stairs area to check on people and eventually Victor hired a security guy to do that job. The tips eventually got even better and Bronwyn realized that working as a bartender was not bad at all. She earned good money, she was good at it and she would make friends every night. The conversations she heard sometimes made her laugh, and some other times almost cry.

It was such an experience to be there with all those people, hearing their problems and the reasons they were happy about. It was funny to see the groups of friends dancing all together and it was also great to see love flourishing between two people, whoever they were, or seeing friendship be so active in men and women. Eventually, she stopped working there when a company finally decided she was good enough for them. But Bronwyn never forget the lemon slices she cut and the drinks she served at that club.