TREATING AND AVOIDING

I woke up with a concert of drums in my head and an urgency that kicked me in the belly, threatening to shoot out of my throat. I got up, crawled to the bathroom, and vomited a lot. Furthermore, I make an effort to breathe while I make the oath of the dawn, “I do not drink again.” When leaving the bathroom, I am surprised to see a hand offering me a glass and the other two pills, I look at his face, and the floor seems to collapse. It was him; the cowardly dog was there with me. It is possible that the floor opened up and a river of lava flowed out of it. Filling me with anger, I slapped that glass, breaking it against the wall. “You are a bad man!” I shout at him and slap him in the face, and the very agile man stops it and answers me,

“Don't make things more difficult; they are already very complex.”

I follow him, trying to hit him with the other hand, which also grabs me and hugs me. Maybe it was the drink I still had in my system, but I felt his smell, not his cologne, for a few seconds in paradise that minimized my rage.

“You're a cynic; you made me spend the shame of my life; I married alone,” I tell him calmly, while his scent still tickles my larynx.

“I don't think you know what shame is,” he tells me, the very cruel one. While I can see that in the mirror on the wall, we reflect on each other, and we see ourselves hugging as if we were the best couple. That's why they say that mirrors reflect the opposite.

“And you keep insulting me; you have no limits to your insults.” I try to look him in the eyes, trying to decipher what's in his soul.

“You know the reasons for this farce; I tried to do my part as best I could.” He tells me, pressing me against his being, where I can feel that athletic body, and I guess I feel his heat that ignites me like gunpowder. Unintentionally, I bit my lips and let out a sigh.

“At least you should have fulfilled them in the best possible way,” I say, sticking to him and rubbing my body against him.

“It has been difficult, the truth is, I wasn't sure about this, and I didn't want to.” I close his mouth with my lips, letting my impulses take me. Again, the cretin hurts me, pushing me away and running to the door, scared like a little child.

“Let's go; at least do your marital duties; let's make an effort to make this work; let's take advantage of this presidential suite and consummate our honeymoon.” I tell him, panting, imagining that I am a beautiful actress in an adult film and the slimy guy answers me,

“I'm not ready, and frankly, I don't know if I will ever be. I think we should pretend appearances behind closed doors and, in our intimacy, be like mere acquaintances.”

“There are acquaintances and friends who have relationships.” I whisper to him while I undress softly, as I think it happens in those movies, only that when I take off my little panties that look like shoelaces, I get tangled, falling on my face to the floor. What a shame to pretend to be something I'm not. I feel his strong arms hug me again, placing me on the bed.

“Now it was,” I thought, and again I ended up being deluded; he just tucked me in with the sheets. A cocktail of feelings floods me: a few drops of desire, a glass of shame, a few gulps of disappointment, and many bottles of pure anger.

“Then why did you come?” I am furious. Letting the tears escape that I tried to hold back, I wrapped myself in the sheets, tightening them, imagining that I hanged him.

“I didn't really plan to come; I didn't want to see you, only that my grandfather found me and used his persuasive powers; he almost incapacitated me; he made me carry you to the room; besides, he forced me to apologize to everyone, especially to your parents; how I hate them.” said the miserable man, causing me to get up, and this time I slapped him in his bearded face. What an ugly beard! It's degenerate; it's unreal that with so much money he doesn't buy a shaver, or maybe he's fighting with his barber. I shout at him, trying to get out all my resentment.

“I forbid you to mess with my family; you are a coward, a liar, and I imagine you must even be weird since you don't want to fulfill your marital duties.”

“I'm not like that; I have nothing against them; I just don't feel comfortable being with a person for whom I feel nothing, well, at least nothing good,” said the jerk opening the door.

“Wait!” I yell at him, “did you bring me? Did something happen, or did we do it?”

“I would never be able to take advantage of a woman; I hate those who take advantage and degenerate, like your family, who took advantage of saving my grandfather's life; maybe it was all planned by them from the beginning,” he answered me, gritting his teeth like a furious dog.

“I don't really want you to touch me; let's pretend to be a married couple; we wouldn't be the first, nor the last,” I say, adding my evil look.

“Yes, that, but please don't play the long-suffering one with my grandfather,” he says, making me want to caress and scratch him, I try to answer him, making me cry.

“I am not a sufferer; I don't need your compassion; you don't know all I have suffered; you are insensitive.” The crying cuts my speech; he leaves; he leaves like a thief without making noise; he steals my calm; I cry bitterly; I imagine that the room is flooded with my tears; I try to keep myself sane by remembering the facts that led me to this dilemma, or the dilemma that led me to these facts.

Vague memories come to me, blurred and difficult to differentiate if they really happened or were a dream. The night I lost my real parents, the smell of gasoline and asphalt how we were rescued with my sister The panoramic glass is full of holes. My parents are sitting with their heads bent, motionless, and a drawing of a D with bones causes me terror. In the memory of the shareholders' meeting, taking control of my parent's jewelry company. And the lawyer reading the will, where another damned clause obliged me to marry an heir of Don Joseph in order to take control of those businesses, reminded me of my disgusting uncle. How he abused us and how his horrible wife, upon discovering it, did everything she could to cover it up. He called us liars in front of everyone, and his trickery put us in an orphanage, where we suffered even more misfortunes. These are memories that are not worth remembering—memories that maybe I will erase to become stronger. I remember cutting off my arm and swearing to the moon to take revenge on everyone, and now I sit here like an undaunted stone. Suddenly, my conscience is like lightning that falls, breaking that rock. My destiny is a triumph. I cannot minimize myself; I have to get ahead despite the difficulties. This is just another one of the bunch, and I will overcome it. Someday it will be but a single bed, a blurred memory that I will believe was a nightmare.

And so it was for three years that I lived harvesting bad memories in his private villa, pretending a dream marriage until the scorns became unbearable, the scorns intolerable. I even moved to a nearby apartment, but it was useless. I cannot stand this situation of being a wife of lies, although I almost do not see it. That's why I couldn't stand it, and at the family reunion, he didn't show up either. I asked his grandfather for a divorce, who almost gave him a heart attack because of his anger. I hope he forgives me. Furthermore, I appreciate him very much. In the end, among a thousand objections, he accepts my happiness. “Life is bliss,” he finishes saying, and he sends a beautiful maid to notify Angelo of my decision to divorce him.

I stay crying in Don Joseph's arms in a moment that seems to be suspended in eternity; it is the end of a cycle and the beginning of my exciting life.