Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta surprise. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta surprise. Mostrar todas las entradas

domingo, 27 de marzo de 2016

Spies

   As Michael arrives, he asks the waiter where he could find the person he’s looking for. Apparently he is on the second floor, in the terrace area. Michael is escorted there by a staff member who points at a man smoking by the railing of the terrace. There are many people around and that is something Michael had not expected but, after all, it is a very popular town amongst tourists and every single day the streets get crowded with them.

 He walks up to the man, who’s younger than he expected and asks: “Is this seat taken?”

 The young man doesn’t turn to him, still taking a look a look at the people on the square below and smoking.

-       Starting with a stupid question doesn’t make much sense.

 Michael sits down. The waiter comes and takes their order: Michael asks for a whisky, straight, and the young man asks for a “screwdriver”. They don’t say a word until the drinks come to the table. In the meantime, they both watch the people and the pigeons come and go into square. The movements are almost hypnotic. When the drinks arrive, the young man throws his cigarette over the railing and takes a sip of his glass.

-       That’s unsafe. – says Michael.
-       I think people have better things to worry about, including you. – answers the young man. - Including whatever it is we are going to talk about now.

 Michael looks straight at him, with disgust.

-       That’s a nice mouthful of crap for a terrorist.

The young man laughs. He also looks at Michael straight in the eye. It’s the look of a mad man.

-       You kill people for sport.
-      Oh, please! You do that too. Besides, it’s not sport. I’m the same as you; I have a salary and everything. The fact that I enjoy it is the only difference.

Michael doesn’t say anything.

-       Oh, so you enjoy it too?
-       What are you talking about?
The young man stops directing his body towards the railing and decides to face directly at Michael and even comes a bit over the table.

-       What do you want?
-       It was you who contacted me.
-       True. But it’s you who wants something. What is it?
-       The truth.

Michael is very serious but the young man slowly pulls back, grinning.

-       There are many truths.
-       You put a bomb on that man’s house. You killed his family.
-       And?

Total silence. Michael’s heartbeat is fast.

-       His children…
-       Yes, they died. And no, I didn’t plan for that to happen, collateral damage.
-       That’s it? - Michael slams the table with his fist. – That’s all who have to say?

 The young man takes his glass and takes a big sip of his drink. He looks around and slowly answers.

-       That’s all I will say, yes. And I bet you don’t have much to say about those drone attacks you commanded while in the army.

Michael’s facial expression changes.

-       What? You didn’t expect me to know that? Please, any decent spy would have dug that out.

Now, it is Michael who pulls back to his seat. He’s reminded of a time he thought everyone had forgotten, that people in his job at the CIA told that was behind him. Apparently a sealed file doesn’t stay sealed forever.

-       Yeah, so that’s done. – says the young man. – So, what are you here, in town? Big party coming?
-       Shut up.
-      Come on, dish. What is it? A cartel, or slaves or what. What is piercing on your brain now?
-       How is it that you are a spy? If you really are, how did you get to be one?

 Again, the young man smiles. He drink some more of the drink and turns his head towards the square.

-       I suspect we have been doing this for the same time, you know. – he smokes as he talks, pausing from time to time. – The thing is you were chosen to be a spy because you were a good soldier. I, obviously, wasn’t that.
-       Obviously.

They both smile.

-       A woman that knew a lot about all of this stuff picked me from an early age. She chose me because, in her words, because “I wasn’t noticeable”. Apparently, I didn’t stand out in a crow.
-       So you stole since you were a boy?
-       Yeah. You didn’t?

 A flock of pigeons passes over them. They both looked at the birds, with so much happening in their minds.

-       So that’s how I started. I have a face that doesn’t stick. I can be in a crowd and you wouldn’t look at me twice.
-       I would.
-       Sweet but I meant normal people. Besides you know who I am now so, it’s pretty obvious you are going to look for me every single day of the rest of your life.
-       You think you’re that important?
-       No, but you do.

 Some children yell and run on the square, scaring more pigeons. People take pictures and talk, a lot.

-       They say you don’t only kill your targets.
-       Who is “they”?
-       You fuck them too.

 The young man laughs so hard that he snorts a bit.

-       Only the men.
-       And the women?
-       I don’t kill women. I thought you would know that.
-       Why?
-       Because.
 He looks at his watch. Michael notices this.

-       Somewhere to be?
-       Nope. I’m just where I need to be. You?
-       Same.
-       Awesome. Why did you become a spy? Childhood dreams?

 Michael moves in his seat. He has never liked to talk about the subject, it makes him uneasy because it is private and he doesn’t handle private very well.

-       Sorry, too personal?
-       No.
-       I don’t care, Mike.
-       Don’t call me Mike.
-       Fuck you Mike.

There’s a silence between them. They drink the last of their drinks and the young man turns his body against towards Michael. He looks at every single feature of his face. He smiles.

-       You’re handsome, beneath that shell.

Michael exhales, annoyed.

-       You are. And I guess there’s a nice little brain inside of there. You knew I was here and no one knew that.
-       No one?
-       Nope. You are the only one that knows and that makes for a nice little relationship, don’t you think?

 He leans over the table and grabs Michael hand. He pulls back but the young man is much stronger than anticipated. The young man caresses his hand and finally says:

-       I came here to do my job, Mike. And that’s what’s I’m doing. No psychological shit today, ok?
-       What?

He leans over even more and says, in a whisper, “enjoy the ride”.

 Then, an explosion occurs in the square below. Every person in the balcony looks below but Michael cannot. The young man grabbed his arm, making him unable to move, and then punched him hard in the stomach. Then threw him on the ground and ran. Michael chases him downstairs, barely breathing. He sees his jeans running down the street and turning left but then, a second explosion happens just a few meters away. Michael is thrown to the floor again and remains there for a while.


 Later, in the hospital, he receives a big bouquet of roses that only have one white card with one symbol on it: the imprint of his lips in blue lipstick.

sábado, 13 de junio de 2015

Sex app

   It was very cold outside but I just had to smoke. It was one of those times when I just needed to fill my lungs with that damn poison that we all know and hate but sometimes need desperately. I was only wearing my boxers and I had put on his jacket in order not to freeze my ass while smoking at six AM like an idiot. The view from the balcony was amazing: as the building sat on one of the many hills in the city, you could see the business towers on one side and the ocean in the other, as well as hundreds of cars rushing one way or the other. The air smelled delicious, like fresh bread. I noticed there was a bakery just across the street and an elderly couple where entering the store, buying their morning bread so early.

 How did they do it? I don’t mean wake up this early to go and buy bread. I mean, how did they stay together for all these years, without boring each other or drive each other mad? I know and feel I would have the capacity to drive any other guy insane. For life… That tends to be a fucking long time and that’s something I’m not really comfortable with. I have never been able to keep a relationship with anyone for more than six months and this couple may be celebrating their sixtieth anniversary together. No, I think I would have died a long time before that or gone mad. I have a tendency to move around, never standing still for too long. I just couldn’t.

 I finish my cigarette but I don’t really want to go in. Thankfully I brought the pack with me along with a lighter. I lit up another one and feel it comforting my skin from the cold. Winter is done or at least that’s what all the people in the news say. But t sure doesn’t seem like it. My ass is freezing and I don’t know what else to do besides smoking like mad. I let my beer inside… Fuck!  Could have used that. Well, life isn’t perfect at all, shouldn’t I know that. I’m the man working in his father’s flower shop. I have to say I don’t hate it or anything but I would have liked to get so much more from life.

 I went to school and everything. I mean, back in high school I was a great football player and not very smart but in college I discovered I had a thing for numbers and all that. I’m good at that and that’s why dad asked to work with him. I keep the books in order and thanks to me his store is working much more efficiently than before. I even caught someone stealing for him, so I guess I did a great job. But I would have liked to have my own business, make my own decisions and just be myself in life. But this happens when you look for a fucking job for three fucking years and no one even thinks of helping you, giving you a hand. So here I am, thirty-two and still working for daddy. It pays well so I shouldn’t really but hey, I could bitch professionally.

 I turn around and see him there, sleeping as if he had just taken a magical potion to sleep like a log. He looks nice asleep… Not that he doesn’t look nice while awake but you know what I mean. I don’t really know how I got here, I mean, how it was that I accepted to come. To be one hundred percent honest, I met him earlier today on one of those apps for the phone where you get people to fuck with. Yeah, I was that bored. I just downloaded the thing and in an hour I had gotten lots of messages. Which is amazing the body I had back in high school has almost completely disappear. But I guess I have my thing and he noticed it.

 He looked nice in his picture, cute smile, nice guy he seemed. So he asked to come to his house in the middle of the night and here I am. The sex was great and he turned out to be a great guy, very nice and well mannered. But that didn’t stop me from coming out to this freezing balcony to smoke y heart out. It’s maybe because I don’t really like this kind of situations. It annoys me that I have to use those apps and shit to get to know someone to fuck. I mean, it makes it easier but one wonders if it’s all because of me or because he was horny or what.

 Down in the street the elderly couple has just come out of the store. They are holding hands and each one of them is carrying a brown paper bag with what I guess is bread inside. They walk closely together, maybe because they’re cold or maybe because of the love they feel for each other. Either way, they look perfect, happy and just beaming. They disappear after I follow them with my look for a couple of blocks. No one else is really out there except some of those idiots in bicycles and some others obviously heading to the gym or some shit at this time of day. My only obsession is smoking and maybe a beer or two but that cult on the body, I never got it.

 I hear my cellphone’s voice mail ringtone. It only lasts for a couple of seconds but I instantly worry it will awake the guy. But no, he doesn’t even move. I open the sliding door carefully, walk slowly to my pants and take out my cellphone from one of the pockets. And come out again, closing the door behind me. As I take another puff, I realize it was my ex who just left me a message. He’s drunk and says I fucked him up or something. He says I was great always but that I drove him insane. In the background I can hear very loud music. The message ends suddenly. I check it again but hear nothing out of the ordinary so I put my cellphone in the jacket.

 He has already done that, a couple of times after we broke up. It had to be said that it happened like four months ago and he still doesn’t get over it. And he should. Not only because it’s bad for him to hold that inside for so long but because he seems to forget he was the one that send our relationship to hell. I mean, that’s what normally happens when you want to surprise your guy with a nice present that you bought him in a nice little flea market downtown and you just find him in his house fucking another guy. Yeah, that’s what happened. Once I entered with the keys he had given me, I realized there was something wrong but you know people, we always want what we know to be a lie. But it wasn’t. He was fucking that guy hard.

 I’m not the kind, soft type. I opened up that door with a fucking kick and took pictures. Yeah, I did. I was driven insane and just wanted to fucking destroy him. He begged me not to show those to anyone and then I knew what was really important to him. I didn’t even look at the guy he was fucking, who just jumped like a rabbit and into the bathroom; maybe scared I would kick him in the balls. I wanted to. Fuck, I really did but I knew I could get into trouble if I did that. So I just took the present, my cellphone and what was left of my dignity and walked away.

 That ended up the relationship. Again, I’m not one of those stupid people that talks and decides and all that shit. For me, that was it. So I never saw him again. No accepting calls or messages or presents from him. Nothing. And yet, he still calls when drunk and has the nerve to blame me for him fucking another guy. I have to be clear on this: I don’t give a shit if he had a reason to go and fuck around. He felt neglected or needy or whatever? Cool, he could have told so to me and just have a healthy breakup or talk about it or whatever. But no, he took the whore’s road and here we are.

 I don’t even hate him. I stopped feeling anything for him at that moment. Yeah, I guess I cried a bit but I got over it. Again, it was a short-lived relationship and I never expected it to last for too long. But it hurts more when it that person who disappoints you. Because I can see me disappointing anyone and I have. But never like that and never before taking time to sit down and talk about what’s happening. It may seem cruel but I always tell them “You’re not my type”, “This isn’t working” and so on. I cut the shit and say the truth because I believe we all deserve that.

 So I guess that’s what makes me uncomfortable about this whole sex app thing. I mean, it’s great that we just cut to the chase and we know what we’re there for but maybe it’s too blunt, to direct. I would love to be able to charm someone into having sex with me and not just ask. Fuck, maybe I’m a romantic that way but doesn’t it fell better when people are attracted to you as a person and not just because you are another horny guy in their area or something? People nowadays seem to just be fucking around but not really caring about anything else and that kind of bothers me. But I guess that’s the way it is and who am I to say anything? Any way, this might be my only time in this so, who cares.


 Then, I feel two warm hands holding my waist and lips kissing my right cheek. We share a kiss and a hug and then we go back inside. I spoon him until he falls asleep and just before I do that myself; I realize things are as I want them to be. So I’ll smell his hair and enjoy his smile and just see where I can take this later today.

martes, 12 de mayo de 2015

Friends

   Opening the door was like opening the fridge. It was too cold outside, too cold to be there and yet, people found reasons to go out in that weather. In her apartment, Laura was sitting next to the heating but somehow it wasn’t working as it usually did. She decided to go into bed early and wear many layers of clothing but that did not help much. She was freezing and needed to keep warm in order not to go insane.

 The next day, she had to go to the office to work. It was awful as many roads were covered in snow and so were the sidewalks. She did not care for slipping on frozen ground and then falling on her ass. It was not only shameful but it hurt a lot and it made her feel more of the weather they were having. It was very uncommon, but the cold wind had arrived very early this year, almost in October. And weather people were saying it was not going to leave the region until March. So they had to stand it for many more days.

 Luckily, Laura’s office decided that it was too cruel to make people go all the way downtown to work so they decided to let some people stay at home and work over the internet. They had to be available and working at the same rhythm but in their pajamas and warm blankets. Laura was happy that she was one of the people they set free although many were pissed off at them because their jobs could not be done remotely. Laura’s pity lasted for a few hours, until she got home and realized the heating system was working, as it should.

 Maybe it was because she had gotten there late and it only worked properly at nights but anyway she was happy about it. She put her dinner in the microwave and as it was heated, she decided to check her phone. Some friends had been freed too from their jobs but were still looking forward to the weekend when they could sleep for hours and hours without been disturbed.

 Laura ate her dinner in bed, not minding if the bolognaise sauce of the pasta tainted her blankets. She was warm and cozy and was already thinking how much warmer she was going to feel inside her bed. And then, someone knocked on her door. She almost threw her plate of pasta because the sound had taken her for surprise. No one ever came to her home and if they did they had been invited. Been a weekday, she was sure that no one had been invited. Laura decided to leave the plate on her nightstand and walked towards the main door, where someone was knocking again.

 It scared her again, for some reason. She did not have a way to see who was at the other side but tried leaning over the door and hearing what was going on the other side. The person there was breathing heavily, as if he or she had been running like mad for the last hour. Laura stayed there, trying to hear something else but the only thing that came was another knock, which almost made her scream. She covered her mouth and heard the person on the other side walk a few steps and then another person talking. She recognized that voice: t was the old lady that lived in the apartment in front of her. She was telling the person there to be quiet, as many people had taken an early night. This one funny because how could she know that but she didn’t say more and slammed her door.

 The person on the other side was about to knock but Laura decided to open before the old lady had to be dragged out again. At first she did not see who it was: the lights of the corridor were not working. But as the person walked into the light of her apartment, she realized it was her best friend Jeanne. When she saw her, Laura punched her on an arm and the other one started rubbing it, obviously hurt.

-       What the hell?! What are you doing here?
-       What? You’re busy?
-       No! It’s just… Why didn’t you call first? You scared me!

Laura let her friend in and they walked fast to her room. As Jeanne seated on the edge of the bed, Laura went back to her plate of pasta. She had just realized how hungry she was. Jeanne was still rubbing her arm when she told her friend she had come so hastily because she had learned something had happened and she was very close.

 Apparently, according to Jeanne, a former friend of theirs from high school had died just a few hours ago. Laura was about to tell her friend she didn’t care but then Jeanne said the name: “Brock”. It was as if she had been sprinkled with glue. She couldn’t speak and, for a moment, she didn’t care about the cold. Brock had been one of their best friends in high school. They were always the three of them parading around, talking and having many laughs. They would seat together in every class and would share tips on the subjects each one had a problem with.

 The reason they had stopped talking was college. He had left after obtaining a scholarship for a university in France and they dais they would talk and chat and text but that went only for a few months until he stopped writing. They knew nothing bad had happened because he kept uploading pictures and they noticed there were many people in them. He had apparently made new friends in college and had decided it was best to cut off all ties to high school. As their friends, Laura and Jeanne understood. They knew how hard it had been for him but anyway they felt a bit betrayed and hurt that he wouldn’t have said a word about it.

 Now, according to Jeanne, he was dead. Her friend told her that she had taken the bus to get home from work and decided to check on the news on her phone, as the journey was a long one. She browsed through several articles about very different things until she stumbled upon one with “breaking news” written in red and yellow. Apparently, a plane that was about to land on the city’s airport had crash by the end of the runway. They had no idea how many dead there were so they updated the article every few minutes with details. Finally, after a long time, they revealed a list of the bodies that had been already found. Brock’s name was there and as the bus was not very far from Laura’s home, she decided to go down and walk to her door. She had been so shocked by the news, she couldn’t think of calling her friend, only of getting there.

 Laura had a few tears on her face. She wiped them clumsily and asked her friend if she was sure the dead person was Brock. She told her that many people had the same name but Jeanne interrupted her saying that both of his last names were written in the article and being Brock Holowitz Sepulveda, she was sure he was the one who had died.

 Just then, Laura stood up and decided to go to the kitchen. Jeanne joined her and they made hot chocolate to compensate for the cold. Obviously, Jeanne could stay the night and they could share the bed to be warmer. She let Jeanne put on one of her pajamas as she poured the hot chocolate on two large mugs and took them to the bedroom.

 As she took a first sip, Jeanne remembered one time in her home when they were in school. They had reunited there to make a science project and they had ended up eating and sharing silly gossip about people in school. They had also read magazines and watched TV and their science project ended up being finished at 2 AM, much to Jeanne’s mother grief, who had tried for them to work all day long.

 Laura remembered the time they had spent a whole summer together, none of them having any place to go to. They had paraded around town confusing tourists; gone to the top of Brock’s building to tan on his used beach chairs and they would also eat a lot of pizza from a place close to the school. They each had a favorite flavor but they all loved the garlic dressing, for which they always fought.

 When they were done with the hot chocolate, the two women got under the covers and fell asleep very quickly. Their sleep was dreamless so one could not say if it had been good or bad. In the morning, Jeanne called her office and told them she was going to be there after lunch due to a personal problem. Meanwhile, Laura called a number featured on one of the accident’s articles and decided to check if Brock was indeed a victim. It hurt her to verify his death but asked the lady who had told her if she could go and see him or if she knew if his parents had already been notified. The woman said she had no idea but that she could come over and be in a room with other relatives to get the latest news.


 Laura and Jeanne decided to go, even with the snowfall forecasted for later that evening. They took a bus to the airport and met Brock’s parents there. They were surprising but relieved that the girls were there and they all relieved some memories as they waited for someone to tell them the next step in this whole painful process.