The Trip

“And on top of it, this insistent rain. I don’t see anything.” Julian decided to stop at the side of the road and wait for it to clear. It was a bad sign so much rain. The entrance to the town would be full of mud, and he had not worn adequate footwear. Since before leaving the trip was badly shuffled. He hadn’t could pass through the cemetery like every Friday, and that had already upset him. “Mom won’t find out,” said his daughter when he called her from the Service Station to say goodbye. “And dad, you’re not going to the end of the world. You ain’t going very far. You’re back in five days, right? Great. Have a good trip. Kiss.” Young people always in such a hurry. His daughter didn’t understand his regular visits to the cemetery or that he had all of Marita’s clothes in the closet. After five years, her dresses still had their scent.

The boy at the service station almost gave him diesel instead of gasoline while he spoke on the phone. The coffee he ordered was burned. The bathroom was a monument to neglect and dirt. And after that, the sky decided to finish ruining his afternoon, sending him curtains of water, insistently.

“I should have come by bus, as Mike told me,” He thought as he tried to tune in to something on the radio. Static. Where would be all Marita’s CDs by Frank Sinatra, Aretha Franklin, The Platers?

“That’s exactly why you need a woman, Julian” Mike would have told him. “A woman who takes care of the details, who were a co-pilot, who join you in trips, who accompanies you to the cinema.” He knew Mike will be right. He didn’t want to be an old pussy, curmudgeon and end up in a seedy nursing home, alone.

He had decided to go by car so he could show it, that was the truth. Come on, not everyone keeps in that state a Taunus Coupe with the original paint and upholstery. In the town it would cause a sensation. If it stopped raining, of course, so that people could go outside to see it go by.

When the rain stopped, he could see the signs that indicated that there were still 80 kilometres to go to the town. He would arrive at dusk. Fortunately, Louis had offered him his house when he found out that he was traveling. “I hope that the old rabble of the woman has gone to visit her grandchildren in the Capital. How is she calling? Louis says her Chichi, but I couldn’t say it like that. Bah, I will try not to treat her. And that’s it.” Marita would know the name of the old mob. She always knew everything. She remembered everything. “Elephant memory” he jokingly told her when she took out some useless data of 50 years ago from her head.

As he travelled the missing kilometres, he was structuring the next steps. That night he would have dinner with Louis, the next day he would go to see Lourdes at her daughter’s business. Louis assured him that every Saturday morning she spent it there. “Is she still as pretty as ever?” Julian consulted. “56 years have passed, what do you think?”

If everything went as he thought, he would invite her to lunch, they would spend the whole afternoon together … and after two, three days, he would ask her to marry him, to move to Capital town to his three-bedroom apartment with a view of the River. Yes, it was the best option.

He and Lourdes had been dating one summer. Three months of love and passion that he remembered with longing. How young and happy they were! What energy did they have, especially! Lourdes was sweet, helpful, quiet, submissive. And besides everything, beautiful! When he had to leave her to go to college he felt it: it had been an unforgettable summer.

The town’s Welcome sign passed by. The main street was paved. Point for the mayor. The street of Louis’s house too. How many businesses were there! Bars full of teenagers. Many lights. Julian remembered the dark street in which he grew up. It should have Led lights too now.

He parked in front and crossed to ring the bell. Louis opened immediately: he was waiting for him. How old and wrinkled he was! It looked like a raisin. Fat. They hugged each other fraternally and went into the living room, where the old gossip woman stood defiantly. Julian greeted her with a kiss, she seemed to peck at his cheek. “How are you?” He muttered out of pure courtesy. “So far so good. Better than you, sure.” The old rabble -and harpy- answered, Julian didn’t know how to respond to the comment, so he ignored her and began to tell Louis about the flood of the route, the near disaster of the service station. All the three standing in the living room. Louis continuously looking at the door while listening to him. “Are you waiting for someone?” He asked puzzled. “Yes, yes. But I don’t think it’s coming. Do you want a whiskey?” “Please”.

Since Louis hadn’t said who they were waiting for, he decided not to ask. It would be the son who lived alone. “Did you bring a bag? Do you want to put it down while dinner is on?” “In a little while. Let’s enjoy the whiskey. Can I smoke?” “Don’t!!” The scream from the kitchen was heard. “You don’t smoke in this house.” The harpy appeared on the landing of the door. “Ah, sorry. I’ll go out then.” “Obviously”. And plunged back into the kitchen. “Is everything alright with me staying? No problem, I can go to a hotel …” “Noo, please. She’s like that, you already know her.” The bell rang and the harpy rushed out of the kitchen to answer. After a few minutes she reappeared in the living room, with a triumphant expression. Behind her was a petite woman, almost white gray hair, dressed in a threadbare, faded cover. Julian didn’t get to see her face. “Come in, go ahead” Louis murmured.

The woman stepped forward. “So long, Julian”. “Lourdes ???” he was stunned. Could that grey, faded, old and sad woman be his teenage girlfriend? “Yes, Lourdes Padilla, the same one you abandoned more than half a century ago,” exclaimed the harpy. “Mabel, please. Leave it to me.” Lourdes said to the harpy.

Julian looked at them both without understanding what they were talking about. Abandoned? It was a summer love, they were young, he had to study … what more did they want? “Julian: long ago, I would have liked to meet and talk well. Today, I just want to get rid of him.” “Get rid what off of you? What are you talking about? I don’t understand, I also wanted to talk to you …” “Let me speak, please. Don’t interrupt me. I say so and voila. Then you do whatever you want.”

Julian looked at her impassively, not knowing what to think.

“For a long time I thought that I was the wrong one, that the selfish one for wanting you to stay with me … When Paloma was born, Mom wanted to call you, to take over again. And I, who knew of your desire to being a famous architect, I didn’t want to. I still loved you and although you didn’t answer my letters, it did me good to know that you were continuing your studies. Later, when I found out about your marriage, I was angry, I was very angry. And little by little I realized.

I got to know people who made me see things in a different way. They made me notice how silly I had been, yes. But also how selfish, self-centered and manipulative you were. That you took advantage of me, because you knew that I was in love with you since elementary school. You used me Julian. And you rejected me as you always did with everything and everyone. You remembered Louis just when you needed him. When did you come to visit him? Did you call him often? Everything happens around you. If it works, you grab it and if not, it will rot. “ “Well, I think this…” “Let me finish! Once I have you in front of me, let me let go of what I have choked on. You- are-Shit Julian. For discarding me as soon as you left town. Knowing that I was pregnant and never, never asking who the father was. Again: It wasn’t on your radar, it didn’t matter. Yes, you’re going to tell me that the letters didn’t reach you. May be.

Didn’t you know about the accident, either? Didn’t you care about the death of your ex-girlfriend’s baby, either? I know that the news reached Buenos Aires. Your sister kept you up to date. Never a call, a “how are you”, never wanting to know, Julian. Never in more than 50 years did you want to know anything, from me or from anyone in town. And today you appear to want to relive old times? You-are-shit Julian. I don’t know how Louis receives you at his house. You should have died instead of your wife in the assault. You were lucky, the jets didn’t know you. Poor mine will have suffered next to you. I feel sorry. But more pain you give me, that you arrive with your pathetic car, with your air of an important man, your hair dyed and the smell of mothball to reaffirm to all what we already knew: that you are shit. You had a daughter: Paloma, who died at six months in my arms. I had to tell you Bye Julian. Go back to your little apartment and leave the rest of us alone. “

Lourdes left the house with Mabel behind her. Louis didn’t look Julian in the eyes.

After a few minutes of silence, Julian raised his head, and with the glass of whiskey in his hand murmured:

“The harpy was called Mabel.”