OLIVIA.I couldn't focus on anyone or anything else, anymore, after that thick, sexy voice entered my brain and knocked it out.Or boiled it.However, I was able to pretend so well that all my pieces were still in place for the time (which seemed too long to me) that I lasted looking for a suitable moment to get up and pay attention to the man sitting behind me.I wanted so much to obey him... I knew he was pissed off and I was curious as to why, to know what the exact point of his annoyance was. He and I were nothing, just lovers; and that in many cases is nothing. In most of those same cases, it turns out to be nothing more than that, and it's always better to understand it that way, it's always better not to feel. For a moment I wanted to look at him, but after that encounter, I assumed I would look too obvious if I did. For that fact, I settled for the effort of listening to him, where the laughter of his friends, and his cousin, where the toasts and speeches explained what his ou
CARL.There are many things in the world and in life difficult to digest, to tell, understand, process... and those we learn to live with. But there are also those aspects of life with silent difficulty, those stories of subtle appearance but with overwhelming certainty fluids, even unforgettable: the touch of some fingers on the back, background musican incomparable dress or specific color, maybe a song, maybe the rain, not being alone..., can mean difficult situations to explore when they matter, when we know that those simple details have caused a change, a click.Hell, I don't know how to explain it.After making love the same night I met her at the restaurant where I was celebrating my cousin's engagement, after making love, I don't know, two or three times (I don't think I'm sure anymore), I knew that the surroundings don't exist with her, especially in those moments that become beyond special.Well, I could qualify the terms: the external surroundings with her would be the taci
OLIVIA.A fucking long line at the bank, Thursday and at the worst time. Pathetic.I don't think I hate anyone, and I think I hate a a few things in the world, but one of those is going to the bank.The only advantage of the day and being confined to such torture is that the building is close to my job. So, any escape is possible. And even if I can do it, the hours and days are worth gold to me.I'd one check in my hand, "the" check, the same one my boss had given me as a "birthday bonus", an amount of money that I'm still assimilating and makes me smile every time I remember that day. Not because of the bonus, but the whole story and the memories surrounding it: the outing with my superior, his girlfriend, and his friend. They wanted to set me up that night, although they denied it over and over again. Then, I ran into Carl at that restaurant, left the dinner by taking off with him, and spent a great night sleeping with that man... I shudder and hiss with the memory of him because I
CARL.My work is usually too competitive and tiring. I always say and think that and I always complain and try to be understood or understand for myself why I am still in this.I used to put my weekends aside to dedicate them to nothing, to disconnect, as I often said to the mother of my son when I went out with her, something too repetitive, but for some while things were no longer like that.I wasn't alone that night. And my friend kept talking while I did not stop thinking.What is that woman doing? I asked myself.I would take the cell phone to write to Olivia (the woman), but I could no longer invite her to dinner that night. That Friday already seemed out of place because I hadn't planned to see her.I leaned in again and swallowed some of the whiskey I was sharing with one of my former clients."That nephew you're talking about now, is he the same guy you told me about before?" I asked, because, in some way, I was listening to what he was saying."That is correct. He's the one
NANCY.I love to watch, I'm a born observer. Some people call this "voyeuristic", but I don't want to mess with terms like this.My taste for observation began years ago. Just from that moment, I saw myself as someone fortunate since I was fully aware about reality of my family owning several places in Maracaibo City, especially places dedicated to public attention. I knew since I was a child that we had properties, especially restaurants, in various parts of the city, but it was only when I grew up that I understood the magnitude of it. The place where I was: La Napolitana, is a restaurant owned by my grandparents, which by succession it fell to me to manage after my parents did.After my thirtieth birthday, I became one of the owners and managers of the restaurant, one of those people who is always there to make everything run smoothly, trying to achieve perfection in its operation. But I learned early that not everything is perfect on that.It's from there, from one of my favorite
OLIVIA.A beautiful, feminine voice to my right caught my attention, I hadn't realized how crowded the place had become. At times, a simple whisper is heard there. And at others, no one was paying attention.The one who spoke to me was a beautiful woman and she was standing next to me in a confident manner. I looked sideways wondering if it was me she was talking to, but more to understand if I was the only one feeling nervous that night. I needed to relax."I don't know," I answered with an absurd grimace and a comedic shrug. It was the first time I saw her, I had ever seen her in my life.She emitted a somewhat knowing smile, right about something."May I sit next to you?" she asked.I was dumbfounded."Uh... Yeah, sure." I pointed to the chair in front.She did it.The maître came over and treated her with wonderful camaraderie.«She's a regular», I thought.I didn't want it to happen, but I felt a little jealous. I could be as regular as she was, I went every Friday, accompanied b
CARL.I was upset. Damn, I was boiling up!"Carl!""No.""Wait a minute...""No!"We’re on our way to my car, but I stopped on the sidewalk to face her."I don't know what the hell you were doing in the restaurant, but it wasn't a good idea. At all!""Why?" she challenged me. "Because you knew that woman was going to be there?""Don't fuck me now, Olivia. Please." I look around searching for divine providence to get me out of my own tantrum."¿Why do you say that? Can't a woman dine for herself?""For God's sake, Olivia, are you serious? You know how is this, you're so smart. And you don't know that woman at all, you don't know hardly anyone there at all, for heaven's sake. What were you pretending to do being alone in that place? Why the hell did you let her sit at your table?! It's just... fuck!""What's the problem? Why isn't it a good idea for a simple woman to go there for dinner on a random night?""Simple woman? Simple woman?! Have you seen yourself in a mirror, Olivia? Have yo
CARL.Until you lose what you want... A phrase that adults in our family always tell you when you grow up and mature in life, and perhaps we do not realize when it has served us little or much during the whole journey.When Olivia threw all that inside my car in the middle of a strange night, in front of her apartment, I too realized her intentions, which made me feel desperate."Nancy is La Napolitana's owner's daughter," I began to explain. "She has always wanted me to manage the accounts of her business, which of course, is separate from the restaurant. I refused because I know who she is, and what she does, and since then, she has always been annoyed by my refusals."Silence. I was still feeling overwhelmed, but at the same time equanimous enough to analyze well my discomfort with everything that was happening.After doing my mental scrutiny and making sure once again that it was not something carried away for the moment after understanding what I wanted in the middle of the silen