Chapter 77 - Remembering her - mduno
The old woman wiped away her tears after telling me the story with Roland. As she did so, I realized it was a fairy tale, modern, but a fairy tale nonetheless. It felt amazing to talk to a stranger; I had been talking for over four hours, and it was just what I needed. The man upstairs sent this lady to me so I could vent. I hadn’t stopped laughing at her expressions. She spoke so amusingly.
"Truly, dear, it's a beautiful story."
"Yes, and also sad."
"It depends on how you see it. From my point of view, he needs to mature and prepare for you." I wanted to speak, several of Roland's phrases came to my mind. "I’m not ready for you or I’m a dominion and you’re an angel." "Give him time to mature." She patted my leg. "Beautiful story! Write a book about it once he changes and becomes a good and faithful person. It will be a great book of love, overcoming, and faith in God."
"Wow, I wouldn’t like people to read my life in a book."
"And if by doing so you help thousands of people who feel lost? That’s greatness."
I couldn’t imagine Roland writing love books or anything similar, though for him it would be books of action, physical or psychological torture.
"That would be nice." She nodded.
"I feel you’re calmer now. I’m very sleepy." I smiled.
"Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you."
"You’re not bothering me, it’s just that the years aren’t a gift, they’re achievements."
"I suppose."
"Give him time, he’ll come to you."
"Thank you."
A few minutes later, the old woman was snoring. There was an hour left to reach our destination, I got comfortable on the bus and fell asleep. When I woke up, the passengers were getting off, and I didn’t see the old woman. I was one of the last to get off.
My brother was waiting for me, and the good thing was that I felt calm, comforted, with the full certainty that Roland and I would see each other again in the future. Maybe the old woman was right, he needed to grow as a person.
Santiago took my backpack, and in the car was a young woman with a delicate face and brown eyes. She wasn’t a beauty, but she wasn’t ugly either. Her eyes shone within that mass of eyelashes; without a doubt, they were her best feature.
"Let me guess, Luz Marina?" I asked.
"Finally, I get to meet you, Vero."
She hugged me, and the young woman was pleasant, with Santi’s face and my sister-in-law’s eyes, my nephews would be gorgeous, magazine-worthy kids.
"I feel the same, it was about time you came back."
I signaled, my brother got in the car, I sat in the back to leave the front seat for his girlfriend, I leaned closer and said to her.
"He was becoming unbearable."
She burst out laughing, that was her second attractive feature, her teeth were perfect, she had a beautiful smile. My brother looked at her with shining eyes like… better not think about it. Let time pass.
"Did you bring your passport? Show it to me."
He commented before starting the car. I handed it to him, he burst out laughing, I remembered how I looked and couldn’t help laughing too.
"You look like a scarecrow!"
"Santiago, be respectful," Luz Marina scolded him, taking the passport and biting her lip.
"Feel free to laugh, I arrived late in Bogotá, Raúl has a motorcycle, I put on the helmet, I was supposed to have an hour before to freshen up a bit, but there wasn’t time, my turn came. Honestly, I didn’t even think about it, and they didn’t make any comments either, I look like a mime with that messy hair and pale face..."
"Vero, you look awful," Santiago commented.
"And I don’t have time to change it, when I return from Panama, I’ll see what I can do, I’m not keeping that photo until the document expires."
"Panama? You’re going to Panama?" Luz Marina asked.
"We’re all going to Panama for a trip, you have a passport, right?"
"You didn’t tell me anything." My brother started the car.
"Sweetie, you arrived yesterday and we’ve only had time to catch up on one thing." From the mischievous look they gave each other and my sister-in-law’s red cheeks, I knew what Santiago had been up to. I pretended not to understand.
My father welcomed me with a big hug, D’Artagnan kept jumping and barking. The farm greeted me differently, or rather, I felt different, with a peace in my soul, and that’s why I noticed the family less stressed.
Dad also burst out laughing when he saw the passport photo, I was the subject of jokes all day. I sent a text message to Raúl to inform him I had arrived home. The days went back to being the same. Consultations at the farms around town, my order of medicines for the animals' vaccines arrived.
I hadn’t rested; my dad’s friends had given me plenty of work. That was the advantage of living in a small town, full of farms around, and thanks to that, I was generating a good income.
Luz Marina and I hit it off; we couldn't stop talking about the clothes we would wear. It was my first time traveling to a different country, while she had already been to Venezuela. Tomorrow we're traveling to Bogotá. Ever since I accompanied Santi to buy the engagement ring, which will be a surprise for her when we return, I've been feeling nostalgic.
I tried reading a book, but I couldn't concentrate. D’Artagnan always stayed by my side in bed. I'm happy for the step my brother is about to take. It's a big commitment, but I'll be at peace. He found that perfect person for him, with whom he will walk the path of life together; the one you argue with, get angry at, challenge and confront their way of thinking, and at the same time, the person who will also endure your mood swings. With whom you'll find the necessary empathy to exercise the five personalities.
I've always believed that to establish a solid marital society, the couple must always be "friends." "Lovers" several times a week, "husband or wife" whenever both desire it. Being "spouses," a word that encompasses a society full of commitments, duties, and sacrifices, they must also be "lovers," in the necessary doses for the mutual agreement and nurtured with that touch of lust. Those unexpected craziness that generates adrenaline in the body, and nothing less than doing them with the person you chose for life.
Marriage requires effort, a touch of sacrifice, and mutual work. You should not endure physical or psychological abuse, fears, or lack of love for your partner. No, but all those problems would be minimized if you know how to choose that person, if you know their flaws, and still love them. You must understand that maybe in twenty years what you don't like about your partner can't be the cause of a divorce. You must tolerate the unpleasant and give wings to what you love about that person.
People today don't understand that. Marriage was a sacrifice with love until it became worthy for both. Those were the eternal discussions with Lorena. For her, marriage was disposable.
She used to tell me about the infidelity around her as a reason not to risk forming a relationship with the connotation of "family." She always said she wasn't born to make sacrifices when, in the end, the home would fall apart. She wouldn't strive for anything that would end the same way.
Those responses only strengthened my concept of marriage. And no matter how much I explained the meaning of sacrifice in a dignified context, I couldn't change her mind. That conversation came back to me in the living room of the apartment.
"Vero, you can tell me whatever you want, but I’ve seen how men mistreat women, force them, and degrade them, making them housemaids and sex workers whenever the husband needs it without pay and deteriorating them until they become fat and ugly."
"That's your way of seeing it, and you're not understanding me. We can say that men are our ATM machines."
"I will never get married! So that they can cheat on me with young women while I stay home raising kids? I'm not crazy."
"Lore, you see it that way because that's the world you move in. There are good men and very bad women."
"You live in an ideal, dreamy world. Meanwhile, I know the truth about life."
"A part of life, the one that degrades human capacity."
"And according to you, what's important for a marriage?"
"Marrying someone who wants to have that commitment with you, who shows you who they really are, and whose flaws don't exceed what you can tolerate."
"Sacrificing myself to stay at home?"
"Sacrificing what's necessary to build a home by mutual agreement."
"You're telling me I have to endure mistreatment, Vero!"
"I never said that! When I say sacrifice, I don't mean you have to endure mistreatment."
"Explain yourself, I don't follow. She had that frustrated expression."
"Lore, I mean that everyone knows how much they can tolerate from a person. I said that a marriage should be preserved and sacrifices made as long as dignity allows."
"In my case, I can tell you, it would be hard for me to accept infidelities, although I leave that part a bit flexible. If he shows remorse and with gestures manages to minimize the pain caused, I forgive him, but not without showing him that if he does it again, there won't be a second chance. I reiterate that after the logistical display of courtship, with details, wooing, etc. I make my dignity count, making him see the great woman he lost."
I looked at the time; I couldn't sleep. What could Roland be doing?