The alarm clock placed on the night table, next to my bed, signalled the early morning with its bright and fluorescent numbers. Amidst a deep silence, I found myself sleeping placidly, lying on my right shoulder. Some pictures would come forth and away fleetingly like little flashes that gave form to a blueprint for the rendering of those deathly ideas that came to my mind, unconsciously. A sky covered in greys served as the stage curtain to all that paraphernalia about to come. I’m perfectly aware of that, everything around me was part of a reality where feelings, suspicions and intuition meshed together to bring forward a feeling of absolute apathy.
From a great window, about 20 floors up, you could tell the figure of an even taller building or, maybe, the same height of the one I was in. The truth is that by looking up, blocked by some metallic elements on the facade, I could see the nature of its rooftop. It was a huge expansion on the last floor, where social activities would take place. The whole perimeter was surrounded by a metallic band, painted in white, which was reminiscent of those transatlantic ships with several decks.
So my eyes stared at that point, something was definitely going on.
My cousins run randomly. My Granma was very nervous and she couldn’t help praying and the weather had definitely gone rotten to the point that being there became unbearable.
When I looked around once more, after a few seconds, I found, at top of the tower, a white shadow that seemed to be another case of deliberate suicide. The abyss –a huge gray river, or possibly the sea.
The car was white and it was perfectly parked on a sideways platform; next to it, a garden table surrounded by some old chairs that gave a living-room quality to this macabre scene. The wife of the car’s owner cooked for him fried potatoes with rice, his favourite; she looked uneasy but calmed at the same time; she was an elderly lady about seventy-six years old, with silvery gray hair and an average built. I asked her what was going on and she told me about the bad patch her husband was going through and the consequential depression he was enduring.
Not even having considered the worst, I approached this man, unfamiliar to me; and when he uttered the first word, I could tell all the ideas and misfortune driving him to come up with a plan. A plan that would last for as long as it takes for a car to reach the bottom of the abyss. I couldn’t really conceive the idea of a man capable of accomplishing this kind of act despite the numerous cases of such nature that reach the television. There´s no way to compare hearing about things like this to actually witnessing them, first hand: all the perceivable anguish is heightened overwhelmingly and all possible reactions become absolutely unfathomable. He started the engine and the car sped up and I kept still, neither reacting nor understanding what kind of relentless impulse had taken control over this being. The tires burned out and released a greyish smoke and it was then when I realized that everything comes to an end. I can’t tell why I didn’t stop him from going through with his plan. I might have wanted to respect his will, after all, the man lived a long life that let him wonder and think thoroughly about his own destiny or maybe I just got paralyzed and stunned because I couldn´t figure out what was happening.
A ghastly music ringed in my ears and moved my senses; as I gently opened my eyes I could see those twinkling numbers, fluorescent-green in colour; I could feel the hangover of a bad dream experience and the vivid memory of a story without a happy ending.
© P.J.P.F. para MERCVRIVS traducciones [castellano-inglés]; Choices. Bs.As.; Argentina; 2011-03-09.
© Germán Pisani; Decisiones; Realidad alternativa. Bs.As.; Argentina; 2011.