My partner

   When I saw him, I could only laugh. He looked at me exactly in the opposing way, making his eyes turn around as if he had just witnessed the most annoying thing happening right in front of him. That was the kind of relationship we had the moment we started working together. For some reason, our boss had decided our skills complimented each other’s, so he appointed us to missions together very often. I have forgotten how many times I pretended to be his brother, his friends and even his boyfriend or even husband.

 It all depended on the places we had to go and the things we had to do. Sometimes, the mission would be a very relaxing cruise through the Caribbean on an enormous boat that would float peacefully for over a week, carrying carefree tourists around. People that just wanted to get a tan and swim and maybe walk the massive ship, enjoying everything the place had to offer. Yes, I have to confess I loved those kinds of missions but we got assigned to them because they were specifically for rookies in this business.

 I remember one time; only about a year after we got to know each other properly, when we were sent to the Bahamas pretending to be a married gay couple going on an exclusively gay cruise. We had to steal some very important papers out of the office of a very important businessman who happened to be frolicking in the boat with his lover, unknown to his wife. It was a hilarious place and situation to be in, and of course stealing the plans was the easiest part of the whole thing. We did it the first night.

 For the other eight days, we had to hold hands pretending to love each other to death, when in reality we had almost hate for one another. Well, it wasn’t really hated but we certainly didn’t see eye to eye. He was the kind of guy that loves to focus on the job and is obsessed by doing everything by the book, like a little boy scout trapped in an adult man’s body. That to me annoyed me so much that I would often just go rogue for a couple of hours and that would, of course, made him go insane, a result I always loved.

 In the bedrooms, we agreed on sleeping on the same bed but avoiding anything weird during the night. No touching each other’s private space, especially not each other’s bodies. The first one to wake up would be the first one into the shower and so on. After a few months, we had a great system that avoided, almost always, any unpleasant moments during our missions. And as they would often take long periods of time to get over with, we just had to find a way to live with one another. It was almost a sacrifice for both of them and we did it because it was our job.

 However, those were our first missions, years one and two. By the third one, they sent us to shorter missions that required a greater deal of commitment from our part. In not so many words, that means that we had to risk our lives during those assignments. Sometimes, we wouldn’t even see each other but once, in critical moments. Besides those, we would often fly solo and assume unrelated identities. I have to confess it was kind of fun at first, playing to be so many different types of men, so many times.

 But after a while, it got annoying and the stakes started looking at me in the face. On my first mission, I got fired several times and they had to pull me out of a dumpster with a bullet on my thigh and several cuts all over my body. It was a weird experience, which was better than what my former partner was going through. I say former, because sometime after we started that decisive year, the bosses decided we wouldn’t be working together as often as we had done in the past. They said it was the right thing to do.

 However, I heard a drug lord almost killed him, after his disguise as a dealer was blown by some snitch. The snitch got killed right in front of him and the drug lord ordered his people to tie my former partner to a pipe and beat him up in every way they wanted. I have no idea of the details, but some people say he could have been killed if it hadn’t been for his security bracelet, which was a secret piece of equipment we all wear that activates itself if we fail to report to it at least once a day.

 You see, the drug lord took all of his clothes away and let him in a cold basement for at least four days. So the bracelet activated itself, called for back up to that specific location and the agent was saved. I was in a mission during that time, so I just heard it all from others. I was tempted to visit him in the hospital, the moment I was able to go back home, but I decided against it. Actually, I realized I was caring for someone I had never cared before, and that confused me enough to do nothing and go back to my life.

 It was almost a year later when they assigned us to a mission together. This time, it was a classic spy stunt: we had no covers, nothing sleek or sexy or nice. We just had to get our hands on a witness, extract him from a certain country, and go back home with that person alive. It was a nightmarish place to be, a horrible experience to be having. But, between all of it, I have to admit I was comforted when I saw his face in the airport the day we left for our mission. I wanted to tell him something but had no idea what to say. So, again, I decided to stay quiet and focus on the mission at hand.

 As predicted, the situation was dire. We had guns and a contact, but that was all blown to hell the second day of our stay in that dreadful hellhole. A group of guys attempted to blow us up in a crappy hotel. It was just luck that the cleaning lady had gone in before us. I know, that sounds insensitive but you kind of lose that part of yourself in such a job. We just started running and killing them all to get the fuck out of there. And in that moment, we were the best team anyone could have ever hoped for.

 It was as if our minds were connected, as well as our bodies. We didn’t even have to look at each other to work in unison; it was almost like a dance that has all the perfect moves to be the best anyone has ever seen. At the same time, I realized we weren’t the same people that had enjoyed those cruises and nice hotels at the start of this whole thing. We were two entirely different men and it showed. I saw it in his eyes the moment we started running away and I had felt it in myself for a long time before that. It just had been confirmed.

 He surprised me with his knowledge of the underworld of that city. Maybe he had been there before or maybe he had just changed that much. I had heard that after his traumatic experience, he had stayed on his post, taking many other risky assignments. He had a nice fiancé at the start but eventually she left him and no one could point at the exact thing that had caused that rift. However, the job was not one where you could see a lot of happy endings. So I understood if that had been the reason why he had decided to be left alone.

 In time, we got our witness and got her out of that place. It was by the skin of our teeth, as I was shot in the shoulder moments before our party rescued us on the border. The thing was, he had stepped in front of me and blocked most bullets by using a metal door as a shield. Only that one bullet had been able to reach me. Making me lose a lot of blood. I fainted in the helicopter that was carrying us and woke up many days later, back home, in a hospital bed. I was very dizzy, so what I saw seemed very unreal.

 It was him. He was fast asleep in the only furniture in the room other than my hospital bed, a very old sofa that seemed to have seen better days. When the nurse came in, she told me he had been there for over two days, never leaving for his home, never going anywhere. He just stayed there.

 After she left, I watched him sleep for a while. And as I did that, I tried to understand the whole situation. It was confusing for me and I know it must be the same for him. So I just decided to think it through another day. What was important was that I felt safe now, and I could finally rest properly for a few days.

El buen pozo

   Uno, dos, tres disparos. Hubo un silencio sepulcral por un momento y luego se escuchó un cuarto disparo, seco y triste, el último sonido que rompió la calma de semejante lugar, olvidado por el hombre hacía muchos años. Era uno de esos pueblos que había sido clave en la expansión minera del país, un motor de la industrialización y de la modernización. Uno de los primeros lugares adónde llegaron los automóviles, la electricidad, el teléfono y muchos otros avances que solo años después pudieron disfrutar todos en casa.

 Pero ya no es eso que era. Ahora es un montón de polvo y oxido que se pudre lentamente bajo el calor del desierto. De las grandes máquinas no queda nada: se las llevaron hace tiempo para venderlas por partes. Lo poco que dejaron empezó a decaer rápidamente sin los cuidados de las personas encargadas y ahora solo son estantes de tierra y de bichos. Algunos animales se posan allí por largas horas, escapando del calor abrasador del exterior. Las plantas lo han tomado todo a la fuerza, en silencio.

 Es el lugar ideal para tomar la justicia en manos propias. O eso había pensado la mujer que ahora miraba el cadáver de su esposo, sangre derramándose sobre uno de sus vestidos más caros. Tuvo un impulso horrible, homicida y maniaco, de tomar un bidón de gasolina y freír el cuerpo hasta que nadie pudiera reconocerlo. Pero se abstuvo, más que todo porque lo que necesitaba no lo tenía a la mano. Fue apropiado el hecho de escuchar un ave de rapiña sobre su cabeza, seguro intrigada por la presencia de la muerte en el lugar.

 Lamentablemente, ese castigo posterior a la muerte sería demasiado largo y alguien podría venir y desatar una investigación que nadie quería que pasara. Por el bien de ella y de su familia, era mejor que nadie nunca supiera que había llevado a cabo un plan que había empezado a ser construido hacía muchísimo tiempo. Nada de ello había sido un impulso ni algo del momento. Todo había sido meticulosamente ejecutado y por eso terminarlo con un bidón de gasolina se salía de todo pronostico.

 La mujer se quedó mirando el cuerpo por un tiempo largo, hasta que cayó en cuenta de que el arma seguía en su mano. Entonces se acercó a un pozo que había cerca, limpió el arma con la manga de su blusa de flores y luego la lanzó por el pozo, escuchando como daba golpes contra los costados metálicos del tubo. Se dejó de oír después de un rato pero era casi seguro que el arma seguiría cayendo por un tiempo más. El hombre había ido muy profundo en su afán de buscar metales y de hacer negocio con ello. La tierra se comería todo lo que cayera por ese pozo, sin dudarlo.

 El dilema de qué hacer con el cuerpo seguía allí. Podía ejecutar el plan inicial de enterrar al hombre allí mismo pero se había dado cuenta de la estupidez de su plan momentos antes de subir al vehículo en la ciudad. Con tantos avances tecnológicos, incluso habiendo pasado muchos años, podrían fácilmente saber quién era el cadáver e incluso como había muerto. Eso podría llevarles, en cuestión de poco tiempo, al asesino. En este caso a la asesina. Y ella no pretendía ser encerrada por culpa de ese maldito.

 Siempre había sido un hombre algo estúpido. A pesar de su inteligencia para los negocios y de su facilidad para interactuar con la gente, en especial con mujeres, él siempre había sido un imbécil en el sentido más elemental posible. Era además un animal, uno de esos tipos que cree que tiene derecho a quién quiera y a lo que quiera nada más porque tiene los cojones de decirlo a los cuatro vientos. Así había caído ella y, era gracioso, pero también había sido así que él mismo había caído, resultando en su muerte.

 No había dudado ni un segundo del viaje que iban a tomar, de la sorpresa que ella había fingido tener para él. Habían sido cuatro años juntos pero nadie sabía la clase de tortura que era vivir con una persona como él. Era el peor de los seres humanos, tal vez por su idiotez o incluso por lo contrario… El caso es que el mundo no había perdido a nadie importante ese día, en el desierto. Tal vez su familia lloraría por él unos días, pero ellos eran igual de desalmados que él, así que seguramente sus vidas seguirían adelante sin contratiempos.

 Lo difícil había sido drogarlo sin que se diera cuenta pero suele pasar que la gente cae en los momentos más evidentes. No vio nada de raro en que ella tuviese refrescos fríos en una pequeña nevera dentro del coche. Se comió el cuento del picnic que iban a hacer, se tragó toda la historia que ella le había contado, sobre como quería arreglar todo lo que estaba mal en su relación y como ella quería luchar por ese lugar que los dos habían construido con tanto esmero por tantos años. No dudó ni un segundo.

 Se desmayó fácil, como un elefante al que disparan un tranquilizante. Se durmió medio hora antes de llegar a la mina y allí ella solo tuvo que bajarlo del coche, amarrarlo a un viejo poste con una cuerda especial para campamentos y dispararle algunas veces. Iban a ser solo tres disparos: uno a la cabeza, otro al corazón y uno al pene. Pero se le fue un cuarto, después de tomar un respiro. Fue un tiro al estomago, que por poco falla pues fue un disparo lleno de odio y resentimiento. Sin embargo, las manos no le temblaron ni lloró después ni nada de esas ridiculeces tipo película de Hollywood. Ella solo lo miró.

 Al final, decidió que lo mejor era dejarlo allí amarrado para que pudiera ser de alimento a los animales de la zona. Según parece, no solo los buitres habitaban los alrededores de la mina, sino que también coyotes y otras criaturas capaces de arrancar la carne de los huesos, sin contar a los miles de insectos, habitaban ese sector del desierto. Se aseguró de que la cuerda estuviese bien amarrada y luego caminó al vehículo, para sacarlo todo y tirarlo al pozo, igual que había hecho con la pistola hacía algunos minutos.

 Las bebidas frías, el hielo, la nevera, el recibo por la cuerda y las balas, la billetera de él y algunas otras cosas. Entonces se dio cuenta del potencial que tenía ese pozo sin fin y, sin dudarlo, empezó a quitarse la ropa y la arroyo por el pozo. Cuando estuvo completamente desnuda, le quitó la ropa al cuerpo de su marido y la tiró también por el pozo. Después de lanzar las llaves del carro, el último artículo que le quedaba, la mujer miró la escena y sonrió por primera vez en un muy largo tiempo.

 Acto seguido, se dio la vuelta y empezó a caminar por el mismo camino de acceso que había seguido al entrar con el coche. En su mente, empezó a construir una historia elaborada para la policía, así como para su familia y la de él. Tenía que tener todos los detalles en orden y no olvidar ningún elemento de la escena del crimen. Tenía que tenerlo todo calculado y ella sabía muy bien como hacerlo, tenía los nervios de acero para ese trabajo y la paciencia para repetir su historia ficticia mil veces, si era necesario.

 Eventualmente llegó a un pueblo, donde se desmayó por falta de agua. La ayudaron llevándola en ambulancia a la ciudad, donde pude contar su historia varios días después. Cuando la policía llegó a la escena del crimen, pasaron dos cosas con las que ella no contaba pero que le ayudaban de una manera increíble. Lo primero era que el vehículo ya no estaba. Al parecer, se lo habían robado poco tiempo después de todo lo que había ocurrido. Y lo otro era que no quedaba casi nada de su querido esposo.

 Enterraron lo que pudieron y, tal como ella predijo, la familia de él superó todo el asunto en cuestión de días. Acordaron cuanto dinero le darían por ser su esposa y no haber herencia. Cuando eso estuvo hecho, ella se fue de allí alegando que los recuerdos eran demasiado para quedarse.

 El asesinato que había cometido jamás la persiguió. No hubo remordimiento ni tristeza. Casi nunca recordaba los momentos que había vivido con él y su historia de ese último día en el desierto se fue adaptando a su cerebro, hasta que un día ya no se pudo distinguir esa ficción, de la realidad.

The morning after

   The moment I opened my eyes, I had to closet them shut again. The ray of light falling on the bed ignited an instant headache. Besides, the amount of alcohol I had consumed the night before was piercing through my brain. Both pains made me stay there for a while, until I realized I was not at home. It was strange to notice it by just smelling the covers in the bed, but that was the thing that really made me wake up. I was completely naked on that large bed, in a very beautiful room that seemed particularly spacious.

 I got out of bed and walked towards the window. I was in an apartment building, probably in the seventh floor or so. I could see a park right in front of me: some people were walking the dog and others their babies. The sun was up there, in the sky, shining brightly with only a few clouds covering its warmth. It was probably around midday. Then, I realized I hadn’t gotten home. Walter, my cat, would be begging for food. I had completely forgotten about him the night before, because of the alcohol.

 I turned around and looked for my things: I found my cellphone on the floor, near the bed. But I couldn’t really see my clothes. I entered the bathroom and it was very big, the size of my room in my apartment. My clothes were nicely folded on the counter, just besides the sink. I took that as a sign to wash my face. Cold water felt amazing on my skin, it really help woke me up for good. I realized I had some breakouts on my face, no idea how the hell I had gotten someone to take me to their place looking like that.

 Then I realized, rather slowly, than someone had actually been there with me. I checked the garbage bin in the bathroom and, sure enough, there were two condom wrappers. I felt kind of bad in that moment but also good because even in that state I had been careful enough to protect myself. That was something. Now, I had to put on my clothes and walk the famed walk of shame towards my home. I really wanted the man I had been with to be out at that moment, I had no intention of talking to him.

 As I put on my underwear and my socks, I tried to remember what I had done the night before. I had met a friend in a restaurant and from there we had gone to a party filled with people. So many people, that I had felt I needed some booze in order to properly socialize. I have never been the kind to be great at communicating, so I know I had drunk some vodka or something. The party must’ve worked like a charm for me because I had woken up in a very nice place the next morning. I had no idea what I had done after I started drinking. No idea at all, which wasn’t a good thing.

 When I was fully dressed, I checked my jacket to see if my wallet and my keys were there. And they were. I also found some mints, which I must’ve grabbed from the restaurant. I didn’t really want to get out of that room, but it was necessary in order to get home. I had to find the main entrance fast and just run out of there, whatever happened. Walking towards the bedroom door, I heard something that paralyzed right there on the spot: someone was whistling very nearby, probably in the same apartment.

 I doubted for a moment but then I just opened the door and walked fast, looking around me: there was a small corridor with paintings all around and then the living room. There was no one there and the entrance was probably very near. I was looking for a door as I passed the dining room but then I realized there wasn’t a main door but an elevator. I pressed the button, all the while thinking that the rent for such a place was probably something I would never be able to pay in this life or the next.

 Then, another noise: the elevator rang a bell as it arrived. Just when the doors opened, a man appeared from the other side of the dining room. His hair was all over the place and he was wearing an apron with cartoons drawn on it. I noticed right away that he wasn’t wearing any else beneath the apron. The elevator doors closed again, as I hadn’t gotten inside. I was paralyzed looking at him, as he walked closer and asked me if I was already leaving. I felt, once again, like a complete piece of shit. I wanted to sink on the ground.

 I have to say that he was a very nice looking guy. He wasn’t a top model or anything but his body looked pretty decent behind that silly apron, and his hair was very cute as it was. What got me, almost surprised me, were his eyes. He had beautiful honey colored eyes. They seemed like the kind that change colors depending on how the person feels. For a moment, I forgot at what he had told me because of those beautiful eyes. How could I not remember them from the night before? How could that even happen?

He smiled and asked again. I told him I had to leave because my cat was probably hungry and I really needed to get to him. He smiled again and asked me to have something to eat before I left. At first, I told him I couldn’t but he insisted and I just couldn’t say no to those beautiful eyes. So I followed him to the kitchen, were he told me he understood my hurry. He whistled again, but in a different way, and out of nowhere a cat, white as snow, jump out and started doing turns around his legs. The animal looked at me with a certain curiosity, but didn’t get near me immediately.

The guy asked me to sit down on a high stool on the bar the kitchen had. I did, trying to conceal the fact that I had no idea who he was, his name, profession or, really, anything about him. Remembering was not really something I could do and even if I tried, my headache would grow in size. He then put a glass of tomato juice in front of me, saying it was very good for hangovers. I smiled at him and drank some. I had been a little bit too innocent thinking he had no idea I was severely drunk the night before.

 The juice was delicious and then he served pancakes with lots of syrup and strawberries. I hadn’t eaten pancakes in a long time, as I never really had time in the morning to do such a simple thing. And the days I did have the time, I would just spent that time sleeping, trying to feel rested. As I ate, he spoke about cooking and I just stared, ate and nodded. I couldn’t really do anything else because I still had no idea who he was, what kind of person he was and what kind of person he thought I was.

 Had I been a very honest drunkard, telling him every single thing there was to know about me? Or had I been the type of drunken idiot that comes up with an alternate lifestyle out of nowhere in order to seem more interesting? He had stopped talking and apparently I was doing some funny face because he smiled again and told me it was a shame that I probably didn’t remember him. Right then, I laughed loudly. I just couldn’t help but feel relieved and the way to let it all out was laughing like a crazy person.

 I confessed I had no recollection of the night before and that I felt really bad about it. I was about to say a bunch of meaningless things, in order to make him feel a little better, but he interrupted me and said that he was very happy to have met me anyway, as he hadn’t met anyone so good looking and great in bed as me in a long time. I laughed loudly again, but he just looked at me, no smile or anything in his face. He had meant every word. I stopped and blushed like a high school girl. I felt so stupid.

 I finished my pancakes and told him I really had to leave. He asked if he could take me home but I decided against it because I needed to buy some things before getting home. After all, I had run out of cat food and I had just realized that. He smiled and asked if he could hug me goodbye. I said yes.

 You know what’s weird? I felt that hug in my soul. It made me warmer. I felt better after it and realized he was a really nice person. I pressed the elevator button again. I got in and right before the doors closed, I asked him his name. He smiled and winked at me, waving his phone at me. Right then, I got a message on my phone and the doors closed.

Uno de esos días

   El dolor de espalda no cambió de un día para otro. Cuando hice ejercicio por la mañana, de nuevo sentí como si algo estuviese a punto de romperse en mi cintura. Forcé un poco el cuerpo pero luego me detuve porque el dolor era demasiado intenso. No me gusta ir al doctor ni a nada que se le parezca. No es que sea una perdida de tiempo o dinero ni nada por el estilo. Es solo que no creo que todo lo que sea físico deba ser visto por un médico ya que suelen exagerarlo todo con bastante frecuencia.

Además, dolores como estos van y vienen y no tienen nada que ver con estar a las puertas de la muerte ni nada parecido. Pero eso me duché con agua caliente y me masajee la zona suavemente por un buen rato. Al salir de la ducha me sentí un poco mejor pero sabía que, de todas maneras, el dolor no había pasado. Apenas terminé de vestirme, pude constatar que el dolor había tenido un efecto muy especifico en mi: sentía en ese momento una gran cantidad de pereza, una falta completa de ganas de hacer cualquier cosa.

 Lamentablemente, no podía descansar. Debía hacer la comida del día para luego comer apresuradamente antes de salir a dar clase. Eran solo algunas horas pero lo suficiente para sentirse cansado después. Así que no tenía ni un momento para ponerme a mirar hacia el cielo y descansar. ¡Que más hubiese querido! Pero lo mejor era empezar pronto para así tratar de acelerar el paso de mis responsabilidades del día. Claro que todo estaba amarrado a un horario, pero un esfuerzo es mejor que ninguno del todo.

 Mientras cortaba verduras para hacer un arroz con ellas, me di cuenta que cada vez más me estaba sintiendo como si hubiese corrido una maratón. Mis huesos dolían y cada vez que hacía fuerza con el cuchillo, se sentía como si estuviese gastando los últimos remanentes de energía que tenía dentro de mi. Tuve que parar por un momento y sentarme antes de seguir. Noté que temblaba, muy ligeramente, pero lo hacía sin parar. Me puso algo nervioso en ese momento y no supe qué hacer, me sentí perdido.

 Pero una voz en mi cabeza me dijo que lo mejor era seguir adelante y no detenerme por nada. Al fin y al cabo, era viernes y después de acabar con lo que tenía que hacer, tendría todo el fin de semana para relajarme. Sabía que eso no era exactamente cierto pero sí tendría mucho más tiempo para no hacer nada que entre semana. Así que me forcé a ponerme de pie y seguir con mis quehaceres gastronómicos. Cuando la comida estuvo lista, unos cuarenta minutos más tarde, me sentí contento de poderme sentar a la mesa a comer, tomándome cierto tiempo.

 De hecho, casi me quedo dormido en la mesa. Por un momento cerré lo ojos y luego los abrí de golpe, pensando que había dormido por lo menos quince minutos. La verdad es que apenas unos segundos habían transcurrido pero mi cuerpo sentía todo de una manera más lenta, más pesada. Terminé de comer casi forzándome a meter los alimentos a mi boca. Cuando el plato estuvo limpio, me puse de pie y empecé a arreglar todo lo de la cocina, tratando todavía de seguir alerta y no darme lugar para descansar.

 Me arreglé para salir rápidamente y salí mucho antes de lo necesario, solamente para que no tuviese mucho espacio para quedarme haciendo nada. En la calle tenía que caminar hasta la parada del autobús, lo que requería de mi un movimiento continuo y atención al cruzar las calles. Sentí como si me hubiesen inyectado algo en la sangre que me hacía estar más alerta, incluso creí estar mucho más descansado que cuando estaba comiendo, aunque era obvio que todo era una mentira auto infligida.

 Cuando llegué a la parada del bus, este pasó rápidamente, algo muy poco común. Pero eso me daría oportunidad de dar una vuelta antes de llegar a mi compromiso, lo que me mantendría despierto por el resto de la tarde. Fui hasta el fondo del bus, donde había un puesto libre junto a la ventana. Me quedé mirando hacia el frente y luego por la ventana hacia el exterior, hacia la gente caminando al trabajo o a la casa, hacia aquellos que sacaban a pasear a sus mascotas, hacia los niños que llegaban del colegio.

 El bus se sacudió y me sacó de un ensimismamiento que no me ayuda en nada a como me sentía. Me di cuenta que tenía sudor frío en la frente y entonces entendí que podría estar sufriendo de alguna enfermedad o virus. De pronto no era pereza lo que sentía sino los síntomas primarios de alguna futura dolencia. Por alguna razón, esto me alegró un poco el viaje porque quería decir que no estaba luchando con algo tan tonto como la pereza sino que mi cuerpo estaba peleando algo más importante y conocido.

 Fue en algún momento durante toda esta argumentación cuando me quedé profundamente dormido. El movimiento del bus ayudó a que cayera en el sueño con facilidad. Desperté un tiempo después, apurado por no saber si mi parada había pasado hacía mucho o poco. Afortunadamente, estaba a solo diez calles cuando pude bajarme del bus. No había contado con la caminata pero al menos tenía tiempo extra por haber salido antes de casa. Por alguna razón, me sentí algo mejor después de esa siesta, a pesar de su naturaleza involuntaria. Cuando llegué a dar clase, me sentía algo mejor, pero todavía con sueño.