Chapter 1 - An Unexpected Goodbye - mduno
"Lorena, take me with you!"
I insisted for the umpteenth time. I had nothing to do, I was bored at home. The university had canceled classes as usual and I definitely didn’t want to go to the farm to visit Dad with his usual bad temper. Since Mom died, everything changed and I didn't want to add to his sadness by seeing me, since I supposedly look a lot like her... And honestly, I didn't want to be the cause of any more pain for him at the moment.
"It's not a party for you, Vero, you know what kind of world I move in."
She stopped applying her makeup and turned around to face me, I could see her through the vanity mirror. She was only wearing her lace underwear, just the way her clients liked it "according to her."
"Do all your parties end badly?" I sat on her bed.
My roommate was a lovely model who was becoming known in the world of escorts. She was studying Fine Arts, though who knows when she would finish. She had a body sculpted by a surgeon, a very kind heart, but a strange, weak mind. Her self-esteem was somewhat bipolar, and her romantic failures devastated her. Her eyes always reflected sadness, those brown eyes, her abundant hair of the same color, which she had left naturally wavy this time. Only the artificial world she moved in cheered her up. Still, I loved her a lot, she had kept me away from her world, and in that, she had been very strict.
"Fine! When you have something not so much your world, can you take me?" I was really bored.
"I promise." She sighed. "It's nice to know girls like you."
She finished applying mascara to her right eye, then pulled out a short and tacky dress from her crammed closet. She kept saying she had no clothes, but my eyes saw the opposite, her wardrobe was about to burst.
"Does it look good on me?"
I nodded. She got dressed, kissed my forehead, took her car keys, and a few seconds later I heard her close the apartment door. I left her room to throw myself on the couch, looked for my headphones to study the new language I wanted to learn. The final exam was next week and I didn't want to fail it. Timon approached, resting his heavy head on my legs.
"What? Are you hungry, or do you want to learn Mandarin?"
He barked in approval, I got up, walked to the kitchen, and took out a dog biscuit. He was my eternal and faithful companion.
I finished studying for the final exam of the semester in languages; I had taken them as a second major since I arrived in Bogotá. My parents left the capital to give us a better future, "according to their concept of life," but they didn't consider that I never liked the education where we lived. I returned to the capital at sixteen. The town was amazing, I love animals; I was studying veterinary medicine, but sharing this moment with my father… It wouldn't be right, I prefer to postpone it. I adore him, but since Mom's absence, we were different people. Each of us deals with our grief, and the topic of my mother is delicate.
I can't complain, I’m about to finish my veterinary degree, I learn a new language every year, and I live with Lorena; who was the daughter of Mom's best friend. She was two years older than me, but her life was much more intense, too much compared to mine. I only had one boyfriend. I remembered that innocent relationship which lasted a bit over a year without progressing as it should. Juan's parents were more hurt by our breakup than the idiot himself who cheated on me. I had already forgotten that incident.
The afternoon was the same as the previous ones. I made dinner, left Lorena's plate in the oven, then locked myself in my room to watch a movie. I put on "Pretty Woman" once again, it was one of my favorites. At some point, I fell asleep with Timon by my side. I woke up feeling unmotivated. It annoyed me not having classes; there was always some reason to protest, and every time it happened, I ended up doing nothing. I went out for a jog, I lived near the university. I jogged for an hour with my beautiful dog, a lovely brown labrador.
When I returned home, my roommate was getting out of a brand-new black Vitara. There were two men in the back whom I couldn’t see because of the tinted windows. Lorena was walking in a zigzag, I couldn't imagine the hangover. The driver honked the horn when he saw me, and I glared at him; in other words, I sent him to hell. I waited for Lorena at the gate, she was smiling like a beauty queen on a runway. My expression reproached her embarrassing behavior.
"I told you it wasn't a party for you, little friend."
She could barely stand. I gave the guys who were watching Lore walk as if the ground was moving a dirty look, "such gentlemen." The man in the passenger seat made a nasty comment.
"Boss! The other little whore is acting all dignified!"
His disproportionate comment made me snap, I completely lost it.
"Look, sir, you will respect me! You don't know me and I doubt you ever will."
"Leave it, he's Crazy Black." Lorena said as she reached my side, stumbling and smiling.
"Timon, inside!"
I helped her into the apartment, managed to get her to her bed, took off her heels, covered her with her comforter, and went to the kitchen to make a strong coffee to help with her hangover. If her mother saw her, she would have a heart attack and I would get a couple of slaps for enabling her. I woke her up, forced her to drink some, but she vomited.
"Yeah, you're a mess!"
"Friend, I need a hangover cure and when I get out of bed, two cold beers to finish it off!"
She made a funny gesture with her hands, then smiled with a face that said, "help me, I'm dying slowly."
"Please, little friend."
"We don't have any painkillers or anything to make you the cure." Her eyes pleaded, "I'm your only salvation." "It'll take me a bit."
I stormed out, angry with Lorena. She was having fun in a way she shouldn't, and as always, I was here to take care of her drunkenness. I started jogging again, half-closed the door; it was still early. I took the shortest path to the drugstore near the house and didn't take long buying what I needed. I crossed the street, and then I heard the screeching of a vehicle's brakes, followed by the yelp of a dog.
Everything happened in slow motion. I never imagined it would be my dog lying in the street. The car was blocking the exit to the highway, causing a slight traffic jam. I turned back instinctively, forcing my feet to move. A young man got out of the car with trembling hands. It was my dog that had been hit, dead, bloodied, and lying in the middle of the road.
"Is the dog yours?" The cars were honking, and the young man looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I didn't see it, it came out of nowhere." I recognized him; he was one of our neighbors, though I barely knew him.
"Don't worry." I heard myself say. "It's my fault for not closing the apartment door; he just followed me."
I had a tight knot in my throat, and tears began to fall. A well-dressed woman got out of her car to yell at them to move the car, as it was causing a traffic jam. Something surged from deep within me.
"Well, screw you!"
I'm not one to use foul language, much less swear. If I remember correctly, it was the third time in my twenty years that I had expressed myself that way. I never use obscene language.
"Back up and take the other street! Can't you see what just happened?"
"It's just a damn dead dog!"
Yes, maybe. But it was my dog! I approached her with the intention of pulling the hair of the insensitive woman. The young man stopped me.
"Vero." I looked at him. "Help me move him out of the way so we can move the car. Don't lower yourself to a fight."
"How do you know my name?" He shrugged.
I turned my back on the woman. The people from a black car, similar to the one Lorena had gotten out of, also got out. My eyes were so clouded with tears that I didn't pay attention to them. The young man was the one who carried him. He parked by the sidewalk, got out with a trash bag, and put Timón in it.
A flood of emotions overwhelmed me, choking me with guilt. My dog was dead. He had been a gift from my mother six years ago to keep me from being alone, his company a comfort in her absence. Timón was what I had left of my mom. The cars passed by, and I couldn't do anything. He took care of everything. I started crying and crying.
"I'm sorry." I looked at the young man. He wore glasses, had a chubby face, and brown eyes and hair. "I'm Carlos, you know, your neighbor."
"I can't bury him," I said, stammering. "He was the last gift from someone very important, and now he's dead like her."
"I'm sorry, I'll take care of it." I walked distractedly back to the apartment, went in, and went straight to my room to cry over his absence.
My mind wandered through memories of my mother in our home. We were among the best families in town, though my interests always leaned toward books. When I expressed my desire to stop studying at the town school, she was the one who helped me get my father's permission. I usually taught myself. She was the first to stand up to my father, avoiding his scoldings. She secretly enrolled me, talking to her best friend and arranging for me to live with her daughter, who worked for an airline and was well-paid.
That was Lorena's mother's version, but she didn't know about her world as a high-class escort, popular and recognized among the city's or the country's drug lords, thugs, and politicians. She left me in the apartment equipped with everything necessary for a comfortable room. It was somewhat childish for my age, but it didn't seem so back then. Now, I didn't want to change it, keeping it intact as a memory of my mom. I remembered that afternoon when she gave me the gift that would ease the loneliness and her absence.
She took out a cute one-month-old Labrador from a box, and since then, we were inseparable. I didn't know about her advanced breast cancer. She never told us so we wouldn't be depressed. I had to stop the memory there; I didn't want to feel the pain of her death again. I preferred to fall asleep to avoid crying any more.
"Vero! Vero! Wake up, you need to eat something."
Lorena woke me up. When I opened my eyes, I saw remorse in her gaze. I imagined she knew what had happened. Raúl sat beside me. He was my best friend, his sexual orientation a secret from his father, but his mother accepted it. To his family, he presented one image, but with us, he could be free, though he always acted masculine. Loyal to the word friendship, we studied at the same university; he, pure chemistry. He had dark brown eyes and hair, a lean but fit body. His eyes also showed he knew the news.
"How did you find out?" I asked, tears returning.
"Carlos knocked, came to tell you he had buried him, expressed his sorrow over what happened. How did it happen?" I glared at her.
"Because of you! I went to buy something to help you with your hangover, and I didn't notice when he followed me."
"Vero..."
Raúl, with his typical conciliatory voice, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, tried to calm me. Lorena lowered her gaze and left my room.
"Don't treat her like that," he said softly. "You know how it will affect her if you don't talk to her."
"Is she never going to change? Today she came with several guys in a car! She's shameless, believe me, and yes! I'm very angry. She only lives to be a floozy, going from one man to another. It's not fair that we have to cover for her messy life. It hurts me that she's wasting her life like that."
"Did you see the men she was with?" I shook my head. "She told me she was with the top guy, the very same Don Roland Sandoval." "What do I care about that man?"