AS LONG AS THERE IS LIFE, THERE IS HOPE

“Old man, you're still giving me the runaround; you've already gotten my head around with so much procrastination.”

“Dear Mike, all of a sudden you haven't paid attention; I've already told you, and you don't want to see the truth.”

“No, Don Richard, the truth is that I have to wash my muddy honor with gunpowder.”

“Honor? But you're not a samurai.”

“I wish I were. And that everyone in this country was one, so there wouldn't be so many rogues and corrupt people who live only for money, without caring that to get it they have to sell their mother.”

“That's very profound coming from you.”

“What do you mean, old man?”

“It's just what I've heard around.”

“What is it? Tell me, old man, we've had enough drinks of trust.”

“I heard a whisper from the wind that you were the one who betrayed her first with her best friend, and that it is possible that this son is not yours but of a certain Juan.”

“You see, you could talk. What happens is that the truth is distorted as it passes from mouth-to-mouth, and sometimes things happen differently than we remember them. Maybe the truth is molded like clay or stretched like chewing gum; maybe the corrupt do have an honor because their truth and values are so altered; everything is so different from what I remember than what they say. What happened was that first I met her best friend, and I, as a gallant, kissed her to the soul. Then everything changed when I met her. Her friend introduced me to her. One afternoon I was leaving work to have lunch, and I found her alone on the street. My hunger had vanished or been replaced by another. I convinced her to go to a park, where I had to arm myself with a lot of courage to kiss that beautiful mouth, and… Ah, I do not want to talk about it; they are memories that fill me with nostalgia; evoking the past is dangerous.”

“Not when they are good memories.”

“But yes, when they are mistakes or when you think about what could have been and never will be.”

“In your case, it's what you idealized it to be, and maybe it wasn't convenient for you.”

“Yes, Don Richard, sometimes you think you are on the way to triumph, and you are heading, but you are blinded to the slaughterhouse. We idealize failures, we smell dung, and we keep garbage. We are unhappy with what we have, treasuring what belongs to others; we consider ourselves perfect and worthy, but at the same time unhappy and martyrs.”

“Now you are a martyr because your ex-girlfriend is with a mafioso, who will surely give her a life of luxury until the police or his competitors neutralize him.”

“I wish that would happen quickly, so I could have her back.”

“Would you settle for being the second table? The consolation prize, and what about your pride?”

“And why do I want pride if I have no joy? I'd be willing to have everyone whisper about me, to be the village idiot, or to go far away where no one knows what happened. I would forget that maybe she slept with others, while I have not been able to be with someone this time because her memory prevents me from doing so. We will be a family with my son, even if he doesn't look anything like him. It will be like starting a new chapter in my life, forgetting the past ones, like starting a notebook in the middle of a course; nothing would matter as long as I have his warmth every night for the rest of my life.”

“Then we have to do something; I know a guy who works with that mafioso; I can find out things from him to make a smart plan. Not that you go screaming at the doors of these criminals, so they shut you up with lead; there must be a better solution.”

“Ah, I don't know; at this point, I don't know anything anymore. Possibly I could kidnap her to imprison her in a basement forever or kill as many lovers as she can get until she realizes she can only be with me. What other possibilities do I have left?”

“You could win her back with a lot of details, or?”

“Or what? Come on, Don Richard, tell me straight.”

“The way I see it, you'd be better off letting the water run down the stream. You can't try to hold back the wind with your hands. It's like my grandmother used to tell me: “If she wants to leave, let her leave; let her come back alone, because she left alone, and if she doesn't come back, it's because she wasn't worth it”. Just go on with your life, get other things to exercise your mind. It could be that she burns the stage with that narc, or suddenly she is moved by jealousy to see you with someone and that you are no longer dying for her, or maybe you guys will be back in a few years, and it won't be pleasant the second part at all.”

“Yes, I have considered that. But I just can't reason with the pain I feel inside my chest, which sometimes rises up in my throat or goes down into my gut. How can I go on with my life? I just can't imagine it next to her. I want to be a good father like mine was, and I want to be a good husband too, like my father.”

“Maybe that's it; you're idealizing your relationship with this little girl because you may have impregnated her, and you want to be as correct as your late progenitor. This girl is not an inch to compare with your sacred mother.”

“I have also reflected on that in my long sleepless nights, but I can't find arguments to reduce my anguish, just looking for her to at least look at her from afar calms me down. That's why I found out I was expecting a child.”

“So before you found out about her pregnancy, you already felt that anxiety.”

“Yes, even before I lost her, I knew I would lose her. I tried to hold on to her, even making her feel sorry for me and using other ineffective tricks. Potentially, one of those was to impregnate her so that she would have to tie herself to me. I tried that, although it didn't work as I wanted it to. The truth is that all my fears and misfortunes added up the day I lost her.”

“Come on, Mike, you are still alive, and as long as there is life, there is hope.”

“Of what? Returning to her or finding another? My son is growing up with another father. Are her kisses and caresses aimed at me, but being received by someone else? What would be left for me to do? Would I go and rip that guy's skin off and put it on to take his place? To live a lie, does anyone in this world know how to distinguish the lie from the truth or the real from the unreal? I don't care as long as I am happy. I wish she would be happy, but only with me. Furthermore, I wish she would come one night to look at me, to ask me for forgiveness, to beg me to forgive her, and for us to be a family. Besides, I would like that miracle to happen to me; it is the only thing I pray for. I love her with the purest love, though she doesn't seem to care.”

“Well, Mike, let's go look for him; let's destroy that delinquent's fortress; let's serenade her with mariachis and him with rifles. Let's even finish with the sow's nest.”

“It may be a good option, or maybe the drink already speaks for us. Mr. Richard, continue telling his story. Tell me what happened with Luis. I identify myself with him. While Luis was training to fight for Luisa's love, she was with another one in other fights.”

“You are right, but first, please answer me the question: is it true that you betrayed her with her best friend?”

“Yes, and no. It's complicated, and I'm still not drunk enough to tell you those intimacies.”