GRATITUDE

Angelo pictured his boxing coach telling him to “get up, give me one more round; you're the best; don't let it be a dogfight.”

He jumped back to his feet, hitting with a hook one of the thugs that were shooting at the woman's car and pushing another one. He ran under the garbage cart, giving it a bounce; he heard the noise of the friction of metal against metal and cans against cement; he watched as the garbage vehicle wobbled a little; and the woman's car came out of a small space at full speed, shooting sparks.

“Please help me; I'll give you anything you want,” Angelo begged, one of the few pleas of his life.

The car jerked to a stop. “Let's go fast. Run.” 

He ran to the vehicle, and without asking to open one of the doors, he climbed in through a window, ordering, “Please start.”

The vehicle screeched again, the accelerator pedal seemed like it was going to come off because of so much pressure, and the projectiles brushed the cans, raising the tension. She turned the first corner, then the other, without thinking about the destination, and the man told her, “That way,” pointing to a crossroad. It was perfect to mislead, and the streets were almost empty.

“Brake, turn off the lights!” said the man, and she parked the car and crouched behind the steering wheel. Some cars passed by the side of the car; they hid there motionless, and their eyes met.

“Wow, an angel saved my life,” he said, smiling at her, and that smile cultivated her heart. “You saved my life; be sure that I will repay you in the best way you want, with gold, diamonds, or even me.”

“It's a good offer,” she answered, looking at him. Although her face was dirty and full of blood, her eyes fascinated him, and he had a don't know what, don't know where: “But calm down, my friend, I did what any person in my place would do.”

“You know better than that; around here, people, if they see that they are going to kill someone, run to save their own skin”, he answered, staring at her without noticing that they were approaching little by little.

“We don't all act that way,” he replied, biting his lip unintentionally.

“You should accept all my thanks and me as a reward.” His gaze now danced from her eyes to her mouth. He couldn't hold himself together and grabbed her waist, forgetting all the frantic scenes he had just witnessed. She lost her will; she let herself go; she threw herself head first into the void; she felt his breathing; she didn't reason that she was caressing herself with a stranger, and who knows how far they would go in that dark and lonely place? Time seemed to stop, with mouths ready, tongues thirsty, bodies full of gunpowder about to explode, and everything ruined by the sound of her cell phone.

“It may be urgent, wait I answer, friend-, yes I'm coming-, I had an accident-, yes I'm ok-, I'm close-, I think so-, bye-, bye-, bye-,”

“Well, where were we?” he said, bringing his face closer to her.

“No, that's not a good idea; you're a stranger; I somehow saved your life,” she said, dodging his attack.

“Wait, we can get to know each other; my name is Angelo, and yours?” He extended her hand, smiling.

That name brought back bitter memories. He had the same name as her ex-husband; it is a coincidence that that name was common in Sicily but not here in Bogotá. That could be a trap for his family, although very elaborate. She decided to be cautious, giving him a false name.

“My name is Maria.” She grabs his hand and kisses him on the side of his mouth.  “Where shall I take you, Mr. Angelo?”

“Please leave me where I can get a cab; give me your number; I promise to give you another car; this one is already in pieces,” and she gave him a fake number. The horn concert stopped a passing cab.

“Maria, thank you very much forever; I wish I was your José.” He's saying goodbye, and he tried to do it with a peck on her mouth, but only managed to get her cheek.

…

The inauguration party of the new bar of her friend Liz was in a very exclusive area, in the 85, the T zone; it dazzled, full of luxuries. Fashionable singers and many beautiful women adorned the night. Her best friend placed this bar under the pretext of being with her; she didn't do it for money, since her father was the head of the oil company in this country.

All were perplexed to see her arrive; the music was silenced.

“Ximena, are you all right?” Her friend Liz ran out to greet her.

“Yes, of course, very well, I was to tell you,”

“Look at you, look!” Liz pointed to her damaged car. It seemed like a miracle that she had made it that far, and she was full of dirt and dust.

“I thought they were giving me a good reception; I think I heard it was a costume party. I came disguised as a tragedy.”

“I brought a new dress for you, I know you, and I'm already prepared. Besides, I have another surprise for you.”

“Friend, as long as it's not another man, everything is fine,” said Ximena, shaking bits of glass out of her hair.

“We'll see, Ximena; you can't be without a boyfriend forever.”

The party was wonderful, the attendants enjoyed themselves non-stop, and Ximena decided to forget what happened and dance alone in the center of the dance floor with a tight dress that Liz lent her. Which caused her to get all the looks. For a moment, under the lights, she dreamed that she was dancing with the man she saved; she imagined him clean and beautiful.

“Pretty friend, come look; I'll introduce you to someone.” Her friend, Liz, had a man on her arm.

“Liz, I've told you until I've had enough that I'm a married woman,” she said, pretending to be annoyed.

“You're separating yourself; you're still married but not castrated,” Liz said, smiling, pulling her friend into the light, so she could see the face.

“Hello. Nice to meet you; my name is Ximena.” She stretched out her hand to see him well; she loved that foreign bearing, erasing the effort to please her friend.

“My name is Angelo, but they call me Dr. D.” He said when he recognized her, she was his savior; now he didn't know why she introduced herself with another name.

“I'll call you D if you don't mind; I have a trauma with Angelo,” she said, laughing a lot.

“I thought you would ask what I have a doctorate in.”

“Well, here in Colombia, they call anyone a doctor.”

“Many people have called me a neighbor, but not a doctor.”

“Doctor of what?” asked Ximena, looking into his eyes.

“In psychology, besides, I teach at Bavarian University.”

“Wow, another coincidence with that university; I'm going to enter to study and to pursue that career,” he reflected out loud, biting his lips.