Mala vida
Cuando le avisaron no quiso creerlo, ahora prefería dejarse llevar por la imaginación y esperar, sabía que, al llegar, ella estaría furiosa y se las iba cantar como siempre, Ya le pasaba que dijera lo de sinvergüenza, pero cuando le decía que era un malandro, la sangre se le subía, un calor le agarraba las orejas y él, le contestaba de mala gana, ella terminaba echándolo de la casa.
—La pure es una malagradecida, ni porque le traigo la comida, no me respeta como el hombre de la casa, por eso prefiero quedarme con el primo y la dejo con mis hermanos, pero ellos están pequeños y si necesitan ayuda, no voy a estar tan cerca.
—Bueno viejo, ella se lo pierde por dar tanta lata.
—Sí, pero mejor hablamos del trabajo.
Había estado de parranda toda la noche y ya quería descansar cuando llegó su hermano diciendo que mamá estaba mal.
— ¿Y qué quieres que haga? ella no me quiere, — eso le dije, —solo vino a avisarme y se fue.
—¿qué pasa viejo? — me dijo el primo
—Es mi mamá.
—¿Ahora sí te quiere? vamos a descansar un poco y después vamos, yo te acompaño.
Cuando llegó vio varias personas y estaba el jefe de calle, le dio mala espina ver ese tipo en su casa, pero lo ignoró, pero cuando vio el ataúd, algo no le cuadraba, no quiso mirar a nadie y fue a mirar el cajón, se sintió confundido, esperaba el regaño de siempre, aquel enfrentamiento entre madre e hijo, pero ya no lo miraba, sus ojos se habían cerrado para no ver su vergüenza, aquel niño que crio sin muchos cuidados, dónde abundaron las fiestas y sobraba comida y bebida y a él le sobraba libertad y algunos amigos que andaban en vagabunderías, como ella decía, luego se consiguió ese hombre que le puso tres barrigas y le aplacó las fiestas a punto de golpe, sí, yo me metí y lo mandé unos días al hospital, pero yo era el malo y mamá lo prefirió a él y a mí me denunció y pase un buen rato preso, pero eso no me cambió, al contrario, me creció más el rencor y a ese viejo terminé echándolo.
Le dije que yo me haría, cargo, ella acepto y no le importaba de donde yo sacaba el dinero, pero nunca falta un metido, y nunca supe quienes metían la cuchara donde no debían, si no, otro hubiera sido el cuento, Ella me llamaba malandro y eso a mí no me gustaba, dijo que prefería pasar hambre a recibir dinero mal habido, no quiso que yo le trajera más nada, por ahí utilice a mis hermanos, pero ya no me dejó más.
Ahora la veo ahí y no sé qué hacer, sé que todos me miran y a lo mejor me culpan de que ahora esté en este cajón donde ni siquiera me deja mirarla, empaña el vidrio para desaparecer, mi primo está ahí pendiente que nadie se acerque, no puedo decir nada, desde el otro lado me acusan, lo sé y todos saben de mi vida, sus miradas me empujan, me acusan, me toco la cintura y siento el arma, pero no me da tranquilidad, aquella gente ya es multitud.
Miro al primo y me hace señas para irnos, no puedo llorar, además no me van a creer, ni mis hermanos se acercan, —vamos, — le digo al primo, el mete sus manos al bolsillo, todos miran cuentan los pasos que voy dando, no quiero mirar a nadie, así que salimos, ya la tarde cae, nos vamos como vinimos, caminamos, no queremos oír voces, solo silencio y esa voz que invita a detenernos no la queremos oír, mi primo voltea y dice que son ellos, siento que la gente no solo mira, están esperando. — vamos primo, apúrate! — le digo y cuando empezamos a correr la noche se nos viene encima.
Bad life
When they told him he didn't want to believe it, now he preferred to let himself be carried away by his imagination and wait, he knew that, when he arrived, she would be furious and would sing it to him as always, it already happened to him when he said that he was a scoundrel, but when he told her that he was a delinquent, his blood would rise, a heat would grab his ears and he would answer her reluctantly, she would end up kicking him out of the house.
—She doesn't respect me as the man of the house, that's why I prefer to stay with my cousin and leave her with my brothers, but they are young and if they need help, I'm not going to be so close.
—Well old man, it's her loss for being such a pain in the ass.
—Yeah, but we'd better talk about work.
He'd been partying all night and was already trying to rest when his brother arrived saying that mum was ill.
— And what do you want me to do? She doesn't love me," I told him, he just came to tell me and left.
—What's going on, man? — my cousin said to me
—It's my mum.
—Now she does love you? let's rest a bit and then we'll go, I'll go with you.
When he arrived he saw several people and there was the head of the street, it gave him a bad feeling to see that guy in his house, but he ignored him, but when he saw the coffin, something didn't fit, he didn't want to look at anyone and went to look at the coffin, he felt confused, he expected the usual scolding, that confrontation between mother and son, but he didn't look at him anymore, his eyes had closed to avoid seeing his shame, that child that he had raised without much care, where parties abounded and there was plenty of food and drink and he had plenty of freedom and a few friends who went vagabonding, as she said, then he got that man who gave him three bellies and put him off the parties at a stroke, yes, I got involved and sent him to hospital for a few days, but I was the bad guy and mum preferred him and she reported me and I spent a long time in prison, but that didn't change me, on the contrary, my resentment grew and I ended up throwing him out.
I told her that I would take charge, she accepted and she didn't care where I got the money from, but there is always someone involved, and I never knew who put their spoon where they shouldn't have, otherwise it would have been a different story. She called me a crook and I didn't like that, she said that she would rather go hungry than receive ill-gotten money, she didn't want me to bring her anything else, she used my brothers, but she didn't let me anymore.
Now I see her there and I don't know what to do, I know that everyone is looking at me and maybe they blame me for the fact that I'm now in this drawer where she won't even let me look at her, she fogs up the glass to disappear, my cousin is there waiting for no one to approach, I can't say anything, from the other side they accuse me, I know and everyone knows about my life, their looks push me, they accuse me, I touch my waist and I feel the gun, but it doesn't give me peace, those people are already a crowd.
I look at my cousin and he signals me to leave, I can't cry, besides they won't believe me, not even my brothers come close, —let's go, —I tell my cousin, he puts his hands in his pocket, everyone looks at me, they count the steps I'm taking, I don't want to look at anyone, so we leave, the afternoon is falling, we leave as we came, we walk, we don't want to hear voices, only silence and that voice that invites us to stop, my cousin turns around and says it's them, I feel people are not just looking, they are waiting for us, —come on cousin, hurry up! — Come on cousin, hurry up! —I tell him and when we start to run the night comes upon us.
Las imagenes fueron generadas con VQGAN+CLIP y los separadores editados con PhotoScape
The images were generated by artificial intelligence VQGAN+CLIP and the separator crops were edited with PhotoScape.
Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)
Buen relato, amigo @silher, pero revisa un poco más el uso de los signos de puntuación, como aquí, por ejemplo: "y le contestaba de mala gana, Ella". Saludos.
Gracias @josemalaven, ya corregí esa parte, ya revisaré con mas cuidado el resto, saludos.
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Una historia fuerte y que llama a reflexión. Me gustó!