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It was an ordinary June night in the hottest city in the country, I didn't really want to engage in conversation with anyone, just my obsessive thoughts and me falling off the cliff.
I took a sip from the mug and yawned as Michelle, The Beatles' song murmured in tender French.
What was to become of me? My 35th came with only a few coins accompanying my wallet. Unemployed, dull, still looking for the opportunity I dreamed of in that sleazy joint.
It was suddenly and without words when she entered, illuminating the hallway like a soft wave of light, creating a void of sounds among those present, the bar where I was waiting for my next round became adorable just with her presence.
She sat two seats away, ordered an aged whiskey with no icebergs singing on the rim of her glass, she didn't belong in the sultry place, full of proletarians with no end or cause to fight for.
After a few minutes, she asked me if I had a lighter, I lent it to her without even turning to look at her, she gave me a shy smile in return.
-Let's intoxicate the night," she said.
Without even looking away from the beer mug, I stood up, taking out of my pocket a crumpled pouch with two cigarettes that were in my way.
-Marlboro? -he asked.
With a grimace, I hinted, "Don't you see?
We went out and the noise of the cars on the avenue was the perfect excuse to wait in silence, but she came closer and said sweet words with her pink melancholic voice, "I also know what it is to lose".
What could she know, a beautiful woman drinking liquor in the midst of men who sighed for her unicorn eyes?
-You know, to this day I'm that idiot's mistress," she blurted out close to my ear and kissed her cigarette as I had wished she would have done with me.
-What are you talking about? -I asked
-For 10 years I've been in the background, free for him whenever he wanted, as another vase in his luxurious cage he calls office - he kissed the cigarette again - today his wife left him and I also took the opportunity to take my sweet revenge for the 10 years he stole from me.
I was confused, among so many people who were dying to be near her, she chose me to tell her anecdotes of a woman lover.
We returned to the venue and she said she would pay for the next round, I took a napkin, writing on it a poem of consummate drunkenness, she read it, signing it with her purple lips, then put it away in her miniature purse.
Innocently I brushed her hand, and she returned another smile, raised her glass and recited a Dickinson poem:
Love - is before Life -
subsequent - to Death -
initial of Creation, and
of earth the Exponet.
That was how the new illusion was born in my chest. I don't remember why I got up from my seat, if I could I wouldn't do it again, when I came back she was gone, I looked around but she only left the trail of her perfume purifying the smell of misery.
I asked the bartender about her and he replied, he has left her a couple of rounds of cancelled beers and a pack of red Marlboro, he said, "throw puffs of smoke between your problems and you as a shield" - the bartender recited, or so I wanted to think - she left with a gentleman in a van of the year he finished saying, while drying with a cloth, the glass he would serve me.
To this day, I do not know if she was an angel or an illusion, but since that day my luck changed, she awakened in me, the youthful impetus that the flow of time had erased.
To this day, in spite of time, she is still alive inside me, between the beams of my chest as a tender legend that beats in my ear, beating in my sweetened heart since she appeared.
I keep coming back to that bar and although I stopped smoking a long time ago, I still keep a last couple of cigarettes in my pocket in case she crosses the threshold one last time, where I surely won't let her escape again.
For me her name was Honey and without a doubt, her sweetness saved the little that remained of these fragments that she was able to reconstruct with a smile.
| Spanish Version |
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Nunca supe su nombre, por eso decidí apodarla Miel. Debo admitir que esa noche ella endulzo el amargo sabor de mi cigarrillo y la tibia cerveza lager que bañaba mi garganta.
Era una noche cualquiera de junio en la ciudad más calurosa del país, la verdad no deseaba entablar conversación con nadie, solos mis pensamientos obsesivos y yo cayendo al precipicio.
Tomé un sorbo de la jarra y bostecé mientras The Beatles murmuraba en un tierno francés la canción "Michelle".
¿Qué iba a ser de mí? Llegaban mis 35 con solamente unas monedas acompañando mi billetera. Desempleado, embotado, buscando aún la oportunidad soñada en ese antro de mala muerte.
Fue de pronto y sin mediar palabras cuando ella entró, iluminando como suave onda de luz el pasillo, creando un vació de sonidos entre los presentes, la barra donde esperaba mi siguiente ronda se hizo adorable solo con su presencia.
Ella se sentó a dos puestos de distancia, pidió un whisky añejo sin témpanos que cantaran en el borde de su vaso, no pertenecía al bochornoso lugar, lleno de proletarios sin fin ni causas porque luchar.
Al cabo de unos minutos, me preguntó si tenía un encendedor, se lo presté sin siquiera voltear a verla, ella me devolvió una tímida sonrisa
-Vamos a intoxicar la noche -me dijo.
Sin siquiera separar la mirada de la jarra de cerveza, me levanté, sacando de mi bolsillo una arrugada bolsita con dos cigarros que me estorbaban.
-¿Marlboro? -preguntó.
con una mueca le insinué ¿Acaso no vez?
Salimos y el ruido de los coches en la avenida eran la excusa perfecta para aguardar en silencio, pero ella mas bien se acercó y dijo palabras endulzadas con su rosada voz melancólica “Yo también se lo que es perder”.
¿Qué podía ella saber? ¿Una hermosa mujer bebiendo licor en medio de hombres que suspiraban por sus ojos de unicornio?
-¿Sabes? Hasta hoy soy la amante de ese idiota – soltó cerca de mi oído y besó su cigarrillo como yo hubiese deseaba que hiciera conmigo.
-¿De que hablas? -pregunté.
-Por 10 años he estado en segundo plano, libre para él cuando quisiera, como jarrón más en su lujosa jaula que llama oficina -besó de nuevo el cigarro- hoy su esposa le ha dejado y yo también he aprovechado para tomar mi dulce venganza de los 10 años que me robó.
Estaba confundido, entre tantas personas que morían por estar cerca de ella, me eligió para soltar sus anécdotas de amante mujer.
Volvimos al recinto y dijo que pagaría la siguiente ronda, tomé una servilleta, escribiendo en ella un poema de ebriedad consumada, lo leyó firmando la misma con sus labios purpura, para luego guardarla en su bolso miniatura.
Inocentemente rocé su mano y ella me devolvió otra sonrisa, levantó su copa y recitó un poema de Dickinson:
El Amor - es anterior a la Vida -
posterior - a la Muerte -
inicial de la Creación, y
de la tierra el Exponente.
Fue así como nació en mi pecho la nueva ilusión. No recuerdo porque me levanté de mi asiento, si pudiera no lo volvería a hacer, al volver ella se había ido, miré alrededor pero sólo dejó la estela de su perfume purificando el olor a miseria.
Pregunté por ella al cantinero y este me respondió, le ha dejado un par de rondas de cervezas canceladas y una cajetilla de Marlboro rojo, dijo que “arroje bocanadas de humo entre sus problemas y usted como un escudo” -recitó el barman, o eso quise pensar- ella se fue con un caballero en una camioneta del año terminó de decir, mientras secaba con un paño el vaso que me serviría.
Al día de hoy no se si ella fue un ángel o una ilusión, pero desde ese día mi suerte cambió, ella despertó en mí, el ímpetu juvenil que el caudal del tiempo había borrado.
Hasta hoy, a pesar del tiempo, ella sigue viva dentro de mí, entre las vigas del pecho como tierna leyenda que palpita al oído, latiendo en mi corazón endulzado desde que apareció.
Sigo regresando a ese bar y aunque hace mucho dejé de fumar aun conservo en mi bolsillo un último par de cigarrillos por si llegará a cruzar el umbral una última vez, donde seguramente no pienso dejarla nuevamente escapar.
Para mi su nombre era Miel y sin duda, su dulzura salvó lo poco que quedaba de estos fragmentos que ella con una sonrisa pudo reconstruir.
Sources:
translated with https://www.deepl.com/es/translator
Ai images generated with: https://wepik.com/es/inteligencia-artificial
Inspiration and renewal is to be found in the strangest places, often when one least expects it. It does not matter whether Honey was real or not. She is brought to life by this author as he hones his craft. A clever and well-constructed piece, @rdsmas. Honey is that fleeting moment that grabs all of us on occasion, stealing us away from reality, providing a fresh perspective, awakening something new and exciting that then drives us forward once again. A thoroughly enjoyable piece to be read on as many different levels as one may choose.
Small note: watch out for switching pronouns in translated pieces.
Thank you for sharing your writing in The Ink Well.
It is worth writing when you come across comments as enriching as this one, when your work is the delight of someone other than yourself.
Thank you for the wonderful gift of your company to my text, and apologies for the escaped pronouns, I note and continue learning.
Very interesting story and I liked how you achieved the right mood. An encounter with a mysterious woman that brought you luck.
Well told!
Regards @rdsmas
even when the time is gone i remenber that beautiful ghost
So sweet to read this sweet piece from a sweet set. When you are entangled in such a lovely atmosphere, you need not be told.
A lot of thanks, is good have good readers this days
Greetings, very good story, and how nice that luck comes to you in such a nice environment.
!ALIVE
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Thank you very much for the mention, I am honored and we are at your service through my blog.
How is it that an entire life can change; alter its course on a cigarette break. Some people are definitive, attractive magnets. People who whisper about a changed dawn without uttering a single word.
Stunning, stunning 🤩 piece of prose!
Wow what a wonderful description of the story, I am very flattered by this comment, I hope to read you again soon, Thank you very much and blessings.
Wow what a wonderful description of the story, I am very flattered by this comment, I hope to read you again soon, Thank you very much and blessings.