CHAPTER 6

Pablo

This cursed dream; I am at the bottom of a ravine. I am a child. I am sunk in a pool of water and mud. My eyes are full of tears and I'm crying like crazy. It seems to take forever. And when I am about to collapse, she appears. Shiny, beautiful, sparkling. The light she gives off almost blinds me. She holds her arms out to me with a wide smile. I am intimidated by her and I become as silent as a carp. I even start to smile. No sound comes out of her mouth or mine for that matter. She takes me in her arms, she tickles me and I laugh out loud.

Suddenly, when our faces meet, I start screaming, kicking, scratching..... and that's when I wake up.

Sitting on my bed, both hands on my head, I am more lost than ever. I've been having this dream for over twenty-five years. I don't understand anything. My psychologist at the time said it was an imagination of my subconscious. But I'm fed up with it. I don't give a damn about all this. I want peace, I want peace of mind. When? When will all this mishmash happen? I blow loudly.

I turn on my phone on my bedside table. It's five in the morning. I decide to lift my arteries. I became a sports coach because sports has always been my passion. It's the only thing I found and still find comfort in. With my headphones on, I listen to this music. It's rap music and it cheers me up. I'm out there doing laps for almost an hour and a half without stopping. It's normal, I've spent my whole life doing this. Especially since at some point I started helping people do it. I'm not going to lie, I miss my job a lot but I don't really have a choice or rather the choice is already made without even needing to ask the ultimatum.

I drop the arteries on the floor and take a deep breath. I head to the fridge where I grab a plain juice. It's natural, organic orange juice specially made by the nun who babysat and raised me.

I let out a long sigh.

I decide to go out for a jog. It is going to be seven o'clock in the morning but the outside is deserted. Not the shadow of a human being. Probably because today is Sunday, day of rest. I continue with my small strides until I reach the central park of the city. I start with my gymnastic exercises. I don't know how to explain it concretely but doing sports is more than a passion for me. I feel great, it's almost enjoyable. I keep going back and forth. A few minutes later, I see a couple. They look more than in love. Hand in hand, they are running with their poodle on their steps. The man is about one meter eighty. The woman is much shorter, about one meter sixty. They are very well matched. They smile at each other for nothing. Whatever one said to the other, he always found it funny. They chat and laugh heartily.

I am thirty years old, of course I want to start a family. In my teenage years, I always repressed this thought, but the older I got, the more it nagged at me. So every time I come across a couple that exudes so much love, I am filled with envy, and often jealousy. But I never found that woman with whom this special thing would happen. I didn't find the woman who would trigger that effect in me. I never felt that chemistry that everyone talks about. Yes, it's incredible but true. I have never fallen in love with anyone. I always lived with the idea that it wouldn't happen. At thirty, I'm done hoping.

I didn't even notice that I had left everything I was doing to admire them. It took them disappearing completely from my field of vision for me to realize I was looking at a void.

With my water bottle in hand, I decide to join the department. Time is running out and I have to carry out my plan, the one I gave up everything for.

Patricia

It's seven in the morning and I've been awake for over twenty minutes. I am jogging on my electronic machine with music in my ears. I've just started so the heat is gradually rising in my legs. This feeling starts to be felt. My phone on the bar of the machine rings: it's my mother.

-Hello, sweetie?

Me: Yes mom, how are you?

-I'm fine, honey. I can feel you blowing like you're working out.

Me (smiling): you got it right. I'm jogging right now.

-Well, I'll be damned. You never cease to amaze me. You don't even look like you were at a party that lasted until dawn yesterday.

I start laughing and we talk about everything and anything. She finally hangs up ten minutes later. Of course, after checking on her beloved son, Felix. But since I don't know anything about him, she didn't find satisfaction in me. She tried to reach him but his phone was unavailable. I reassured him as best I could because he has been used to behaving like this since he was eighteen. He kept shouting to anyone who would listen that he was of age and responsible. So he could do whatever he wanted. It just made me laugh. He says he's of age but continues to take money from his mother. He doesn't want to do anything to be autonomous and the worst part is that mom is totally on board with that.

I continue my jog. My sweat is pouring everywhere. I accelerate to the maximum and watch my rhythm evolve on the machine's screen.

I hear knocks on my apartment door. It's Yolanda. She must have just woken up. It's surprising because she's not usually an early riser.

I get off the machine and go to open the door. Her hair is a mess. It looked like she had a fight with a bear.

Yolanda (yawning):.... good morning...ah...are you okay?

Me: Yes I'm fine.

Exactly what I was saying. She doesn't stay mad for long. In fact, she seems to have no idea what happened last night.

She walks over to the couch in the living room and sits down with one foot tucked under her leg.

Yolanda: ...I have a terrible headache. I feel like I've got amnesia now! What happened yesterday?

I burst out laughing and head to the kitchen. I take out the medicine box and get some headache medicine. I open the wall fridge and grab some raspberry juice.

I head into the living room and hand her what I have in hand. She smiles when she sees me coming.

Yolanda : Ohh!... You're an angel...see?! I'm glad I came to you. You always take care of me like a good grandmother.

Me: You don't come to my house to call me a grandmother, on a beautiful morning at that...

Yolanda: Ah, but I meant it in a good way, in a positive way.

We burst out laughing again.

Yolanda: So! What happened yesterday? I don't remember anything but the beautiful blond stallion I was with.

Me: Well, we were at Felix's party.

Yolanda : Oh yeah?..I knew I was at a party or I wouldn't have had such a headache.

Me: But of course, you're a regular at parties and especially at alcohol, which you didn't skimp on at all.

Yolanda : Well no!?

Me: And how do you justify these increased headaches?

She starts scratching her head.

Yolanda (stammering): ...well...I know...I don't...hey say, did you cook something quick here?

I start laughing harder. She will never stop amusing me. She's a good girl with a heart of gold, just that at first glance you might think she has nothing on her mind. Which is completely false. We continue to talk about everything while I go to the kitchen to make breakfast for us.

Unlike me, Yolanda has her own cook who comes at fixed times to cook for her. She can't cook. Her mother can't cook so she couldn't learn. My mother knew how to cook but didn't do it regularly. I learned by watching our cook do it. Often my mother would also get into the kitchen. I remember those times when she would cook for us between appointments. Those are my fondest memories.

Pablo

It's been a while since I came back to the department. I thought I was going to enjoy my Sunday quietly, but no. Adriana had something else planned for us.

Today, Anthony and I are in charge of selling drugs in a suburb. Marita is not coming. I don't know why.

Special clothes have been planned for us. We wear faded jeans with puffy hoodies.

In front of my mirror, I look like a lunatic. Anthony, right next to me, starts laughing at me.

Me: Are you laughing at me? Look at you! You look even crazier than me

Anthony (incredulous): Really? You think so?

Me: but of course...

We laugh at each other simultaneously.

A few minutes later, it is time to board.

The driver, outside, presses hard on the horn.

Me (turning to Anthony): you are ready, my friend!?

Anthony : No but let's go !

I pat him on the back with a friendly gesture and we go down the stairs.

Adriana

It's noon and I've sent the two new recruits on a mission. Because I have a particular plan in mind.

The field we are in is very risky. So we have to take as many precautions as possible. So my routine with each new recruit is to investigate.

I close my computer and take off my glasses. I take off my high heels and exchange them for very low pumps.

The recruits have keys to each of their rooms, but what they don't know is that I have a spare key to their room. The first room is Anthony's. I have plastic gloves and a toolbox like a detective. I'm not looking for anything in particular. I'm looking for everything and nothing. I search everywhere: in the drawers, the cupboards, under the bed, under the clothes, under the windows, in the shower, in the shoes. I search everywhere, then there, everywhere.

The search at Anthony's house is over. I did not find anything incriminating

The search was even boring.

I close the door of his apartment slowly and I go to Pablo's.

Same scenario, I search in every nook and cranny. I always find nothing. When I'm about to go out, a paper hanging under the closet attracts my attention. I open my toolbox and take out my flashlight. I pull the paper off the floor and open it because it is folded into several pieces. It's a birth certificate, Pablo's. I go through the document a little. No surprise, he didn't lie about his name, his name is Pablo. But something catches my attention: he lived in an orphanage. The name of the orphanage: Santa Dioniso. Santa Dioniso, Santa Dioniso..... Santa Dioniso... this name reminds me of something. This name calls to me. But it is still unclear.

The paper in hand, the lighted torch. I search in my memories. Why does this name speak to me?

-Madam?

I am startled, the voice is tinged with reproach. I have just been caught red-handed.