A tale by
David Corrales Rodas
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David Corrales Rodas
Thanks for letting me enter for a brief moment in your eyes and in your imagination through this letters of mine.
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To one of my best friends…
Manuel Francisco went away and left me alone on a damned Thursday, just as any other. The hard-faced man and I were together for some years, can’t even remember for how many anymore. The day before yesterday we buried him in his yellow shirt, and with some empty bottles of cachaza (yes, I know… it was a little grim but I couldn’t stand it… I even had to fight the priest so he´d let me do it.)
Before closing the coffin, I couldn’t help it, and shouted to his face to man up and tell me his secret once and for all.
Uncle Rafael and Lucrecia (that stupid and gossipy neighbor), had to grab me by my dress. They pushed me out of there and calmed me down with some valerian. I told them what I truly needed was a bucket full of cachaza (just another ironic tribute I was going to pay to that bandy-legged in the wooden box)
In the end, I lost all my strength and they just took me home to rest.
I couldn’t get rid of the knot in my throat, my dear, I couldn’t rest in peace because of him, but he could do so after all, can you see the injustice of life, you girl?
I already knew it anyway. I had seen his crazy and inept look many times before, every Sunday afternoon, when he went away without telling me. If only he had had the decency and the balls to… Yes Patricia! Don´t look at me like that. You know that´s exactly what he never had, balls to tell me about his romantic getaways.
Now that I put it all into perspective, I must tell you, my friend, that I was no saint either.
Look, if I cry is out of anger, not shame. I´m not proud to tell you this, but I must confess that a couple of times I was a sinner, I threw myself into other arms. One time, out of naivety and drinks (the damned cachaza.) Some other time, out of anger and a broken heart, it all happened when I started to suspect the wanderings of my late “little bird.”
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"Believe me, Patricia, I know men and their lusts. My mum told me everything since I was little. I refused to believe it at first, that my dad and those of his kind were all like that, but then, you see, I married Manuel Francisco".