For years they kept the promise, until one day their father hired a young buffoon named Federico, very sagacious and sympathetic according to the gossip. He soon succeeded in touching Joy’s lonely heart, not being able to express his appreciation, for fear of reprisals from her father and sister, for the Federico was not a man of royal blood. He was only a comedian, whose ingenious graces weren’t enough to be worthy of the love of such a sublime princess.
One day, they decided to give vent to their feelings by fleeing from those lands to the neighbouring and wild Chandrexa, land of peasants and bandits, breaking the promise made to her sister. Joy chose the most difficult path and abandoned Sadness forever, renouncing the wealth of her wealthy life. Little did the explanations that turned into supplications, from Joy to her father Iñigo the Great Count of Montederramo. This forbade her any kind of relationship with Federico Bahamonte within the tables of the sacred marriage and daily coexistence. "He's just a mere entertainment, my young daughter. You will marry someone important. That will help raise the prestige and good name of the family. "
She loved him, but love didn’t count in a time, where marriage bonds were part of the ceremonious art of landlords to increase the size of their possessions. And at that time Galicia was a land of landowners, since the rest of the people lived in misery, but never lacked a crust of bread in their property for their subjects, for Inigo, despite being just as tyrant, miser and selfish as the Rest of the members of the royalty, at least he knew how to content with giblets, including good words, accompanied by a good ranch, to his day laborers. Unlike other noble lords, Íñigo de Montederramo didn’t allow a single offshoot of his vast estate to pass even the slightest hint of hunger, for although his best men had embarked with his majesty's troops to distant lands - himself Subsidized with his treasury part of those companies in the New World, being as he was aware that the peasantry yielded more with a full stomach.
Soon his coffers were filled with gold from America to make him richer than he already was, but not all the gold in the world would serve him to buy the affection of his smarter daughter, although of a reluctant and reserved nature. He couldn’t even avoid his palace march that he had provoked with his indulgence. Since he could allow a jester to inherit his crown, such an ignominy would never spill over to his venerable family.
Noticing the departure of his daughter, he organized several strikes in her search for the entire central plateau orensana. The men returned to the palace without success because the forests were gigantic, populated with oaks, chestnut trees, beeches, birches, and a thick bush without end; easy shelter for outlaws and other scum forgotten by the hand of God, because the wild Galicia remained an impenetrable forest, crossed by witches, sorcerers, healers and thieves. Then Sadness, hurt by her sister's betrayal, breaking her promise never to abandon her, suddenly fell into the deepest and most desolate solitude. She spent sleepless nights crying out for vengeance. For this she hired two old soldiers of his majesty's private guard, now turned into hired killers, small-time ruffians willing to hand out steel and shotguns in exchange for a handful of gold coins. Her mission was to find her sister Joy and her lover Federico, putting in both of them as much lead and steel as possible into their body, until they were done with their lives.
They searched for them for days, asking about, all the inns and shelters they found along the way. It was as if the earth had swallowed them, every foot of the sierra, forest or village tracked only found traces of wolves, deer or cattle. Until the taller and more burly of the two gave with their footprints. He was a great tracker, which was his job. They followed the trail marked by the hooves of the horses stolen from the Count's stable by the couple, but they didn’t know about the jester's skill with gunpowder and steel. Federico was hiding among the weeds at the top of a hill. After loading his guns and firing his arquebus, he waited patiently for the arrival of his pursuers. Federico where he put the eye put the bullet, thus, to treason, because those were not times of honour. He didn’t hesitate to blow his brains out of a shot to the greatest of his pursuers. When the other, a man of short stature and very bad words, fired his pistols at the place from which he had sensed the flash had come, Federico was no longer in that position. He had climbed a yew with the speed of a squirrel. Perched on a branch of the tree, he dropped his dagger into his enemy's back, barely allowing him time to react, slitting his throat. The man fell on his face, splattering with his blood the mud of the road. When Sadness learned of the death of the mercenaries by the hands of Federico, she gave up the search for lovers forever. "Let them!" She thought. "I will inherit all my father’s estate and I will be a rich woman."
But not all the gold of her father's coffers managed to make Sadness happy, as she had been during the years shared with her sister Joy. Suddenly her humorous character changed and became gloomy, sad and reserved. She spent the rest of her days locked in her father's castle. Every evening she thought of her sister wondering: Where would she be? Would she be happy? Would they have children? And an infinite sadness invaded, remembering the moments spent together playing in the garden wondered: Where the devil was her sister?, Joy, the whore.
The end
—What a beautiful story, —Susana said—. I won’t forget to tell my grandchildren when they’ll arrive.
Mireia watched her friends intently as they devoured the pineapple cake. Those solitary days in Chandrexa were about to make her mad, she felt nervous and euphoric. It wasn’t the best mood to start a novel, she wondered if she should return to the paper. Surely her readers would miss her, provided they didn’t find another section where to entertain better. From the dessert they went to the glasses, but not before having a well-loaded coffee.
—I will write a great novel, though I still don’t know exactly what it is about —said Mireia, in a state of new vigour, no doubt from the effect of the alcohol—. Perhaps I will speak of you my miserable and cocky friends, always by my side. In Orense, Vigo, Coruña or even here, in the ass of the world. —She paused. Thanks for being sticky, I will always carry you deep in my heart.
—For us, —she lifted the tube glass, Susana. Ruth and Mireia followed.
They toasted and drank all night until they fell on the carpet that covered the floor of the living room by the old fireplace. In the morning Ruth returned to the city, Mireia and Susana, they were left alone. Susana read some stories, which Mireia had written for the newspaper, when she finished reading her stories, suddenly she searched her friend's eyes with a galloping anxiety.
Mireia's eyes on Susana. Susana's eyes on Mireia. As time weighed like an alabaster slab. In the house the monotonous rain marked with its bustling tic, tac, the heavy load of the hours.
Susana enjoyed the pleasure of a short vacation, before re-joining her journalistic work in the pink press, which she was starting to get fed up with. After triumphing with the history of the smuggler, Lucia, to whom, after being judged, she seemed to have been swallowed by the land, she spent her days in the office, fed up with the usual avatars; she had been collecting information about the prince's wedding with his co-worker Leticia for months.
The royal wedding wasn’t her thing. She needed action, blood, corruption, mobster stories, smugglers, and underworld marshals. So, despite her salary, she was thinking of accepting the offer that her agent sent her a few days ago via an email. They offered her a one-year contract with a fixed salary of three thousand euros a month, in exchange for writing a weekly article on the life and possible whereabouts of the famous smuggler Lucia. At last it seemed that luck was knocking on her door again. It was time to get going. No one like her knew so much about Lucia. Her past, her contacts from her childhood, even her corrupt youth and would not stop until she came across her cover and ended up sticking her corrupt ass between bars. She was going to throw more shit at her than what that nasty cock sucker could ever imagine.
SECOND PART. WINTER 2004.
1—Lucia is Nuria.
Lucía looked for a job in a hidd
en tavern, on the skirts of the county road that bordered the reservoir. It was little crowded except for the locals, where she would try to go unnoticed, for that she cut his hair very short and dyed it blond. Although always afraid of being recognized by some old face of the past, she kept her eyes open twenty-four hours a day. Perhaps she should have gone south, following her father's advice, but she preferred to hide in the hillsides, serving beer to the villagers. At that time, no one, not even her father, knew for certain of her true whereabouts. She felt lonely, very alone, but happy, she had never been so much before.
She had nothing, save that job and a hut she had rented, away from the town long enough not to raise suspicion; but her eyes betrayed her, and her manner as a rich girl jumped into view, at least at first. Then, by waxing floors and washing dishes, her marquise air disappeared suddenly. As if she had never been a major drug trafficker, the camel had simply moved on to a humble and servile waitress who earned her bread with the sweat of her brow like any decent citizen. That had made her a better person than she ever imagined she could ever be. Now her name was Nuria Estévez. The hardness of daily work, reflected in her face, making him appear even more beautiful. Soon she won the heart of the customers and his presence behind the bar became essential.
—And don’t forget, twelve o'clock we open. Many customers usually come here to have a few drinks to celebrate the New Year, —said her boss, before closing down.
—Don’t worry, Antonio, I'll be here and I may be encouraged to have some tonight.
That night the tavern was dressed to celebrate the New Year. And there he was, looking at her above the glasses, listening to the unknown, as an eventual unwanted lover, his name was Nicholas Gallardo.
—Nuria, enchanted.
Nuria had already sensed his presence for days, feeling persecuted, harassed by him. She felt he was watching her with caution. At first she was afraid, he could be a police officer or journalist, so she had to extract information from Antonio.
—He's a poor boy, he spent several months in the army from which he was expelled. He is treated by a shameless friend of mine. The poor man is shy, for the rest he is a good customer and as far as I am concerned he is more sane than most of the people in this town.
Fortunately, Antonio forgot to tell her that at present Nicolás Gallardo was agent of the body of the Spanish Civil Guard. If he had, Lucia would have been forced to cut off any kind of relationship with him.
—Happy 2004, Nuria, —Nicholas said—. Let's go outside and chat. —It was a good idea, a little fresh air would suit both of us.
The conversation was very pleasant, so she decided, obviate precautions and go on the offensive.
—You see, we could go for a walk tomorrow, she said, sitting on the porch of the tavern on a wooden bench.
—I'm really sorry, but I have to go to the health centre, I'm doing a thesis on mental illness.
Nuria knew he was lying, really where he had to go was to his weekly visit to the psychiatrist to continue his therapy.
—Okay, let me know when you're done with the thesis, I have to go back inside and have some drinks.
Nicholas no longer returned to the party, took his Volkswagen and disappeared swallowed at night. He was twenty-six and still had not made love to any girl. Since that pair of hyenas had taken him out of the orphanage, making it clear from day one what his place in the house was.
—You're just a poor little orphan. We take you out of the street giving you shelter. Your duty is to attend to us and obey our orders without question.
—Yes, Mother Flor.
—Yes, Aunt Dolores.
Hours before he had told the good doctor sitting on the couch.
—They beat me for any reason without warning, Dr. Chopper. And I was just a kid. One day I forgot to clean the tub and Mom Dolores punished me by hitting me with a golf club in the back and in the abdomen. She always beat me in places that were not visible, trying not to leave any marks, but that day was the worst. My back hurt so much I couldn’t lift myself from the pain. This made the social worker suspicious and got their custody removed. At last I returned to the orphanage, but by then I was already broken. I vowed that no woman would ever lay a hand on me again.
—Is that why you've never dated a girl? —Asked the doctor.
—Well, actually ...
—Come on, how can a guy like you, keep so much hatred for the women, inside, for something that happened how long...ten years ago? I think there is something else that you hide inside, you must expel that devil from within you, if you want to free yourself. Tell me why you've never slept with a woman, a young man like you? Are you homosexual?
—I'm not a fag. Damn it! —Said Nicholas beside him, tears streaming down his cheeks—. She, she ... touched me.
—But who? Insisted Dr. Chopper.
—Aunt Dolores knew. She punished me by leaving me alone at home with Mother Flor. She ordered me to go down to the basement, undress and do things to her. I just said: no Mom Flower, no Mom Flower. She was fifty-six and I was only nine. I didn’t want to, but she hit me. So far she's the only woman body I've ever seen naked, it's horrible Damn it! When it was over, I ran to my best friend Juan's house and he tried to comfort me. Suddenly I grew up and became a teenager. It's funny, during the first years of my puberty, I never masturbated like the boys my age. Just thinking about sex made me sick. It was horrible to think about, Doctor.
—I understand, come on, boy, and hold me.
The doctor and his patient melted into a tight embrace. At last Nicholas expelled from the interior the carrion that was devouring him inside. His tears had tarnished the good doctor's shirt. But it didn’t matter, therapy had been a success.
—Thank you doctor, I feel much better.
—Thank you, son, —said an excited Dr. Chopper—, for making me a better doctor and a better person than I am.
—Can I tell you a secret, Doctor?
—Come on son.
—There's a girl I like, but I'm nervous, I don’t know what to do.
—Time, friend, that's what we'll talk about at our next appointment tomorrow morning. I want to know everything, I'm sure she'll be a very lucky girl.
2—Nicholas
If she loved me, everything would probably change, my fear of women would disappear; my contempt for desire would be transformed into multiple particles of tenderness. Mom Flor had bittered my life, that filthy, naked body, giving off that stinking, rotten smell of manure, still seizes my worst nightmares. But I was a good boy and if Dr. Chopper gives the approval, which I am sure he will do, I will receive from his hands the medical discharge and I will join my job as a member of the Spanish Civil Guard and my commitment to The Body will be firm and forever.
My favourite sport was the continuous race. I never tired. I was like the Duracel battery bunny, always keeping the same rhythm until the muscles gave way. Only then I was absorbed and relaxed, my mind blank, free from the anxious thoughts that often haunted me. And my madness disappeared, fading into some hidden section of my mind to give way to a strange lucidity, which only appears as a thick calm after a terrible storm.
But despite the sexual abuse that Mom Flor had subjected me to, during my childhood, I still hoped to find, finally a place where all my frustrations, grudges and memories of the past shatter; To finally turn the page and start a new cycle and transform my hatred towards the opposite sex into an uncontrollable desire based on love and respect. I went back to see Nuria, well, rather, I waited for her outside the cafeteria, she greeted me with a broad smile like the magnetic strip of a Visa card, looking at me with surprise. Her smile turned vertical when I decided to invite her to dinner.
—You've decided! —She commented without hesitation.
—I'm sorry I took so long.
It was my first date with a girl in twenty-six years. I was excited and scared at the same time, I couldn’t resist the urge to tell Dr. Chopper. Although we were not due until twelve o'clock tomorrow, I cou
ldn’t wait: I acted like a schoolboy stunned, I ran like the wind and I showed up shortly, fatigued in front of the door of his house, all shirtless, sweat ran through my temple , I pressed the bell at the wrong time, because it was midnight. The doctor didn’t seem too pleased to see me there at that hour. His beautiful wife, kindly, invited me in.
—What on earth is wrong with you, Nicholas, to come and knock at my door at this hour, when I was about to chill down happily with my wonderful wife?
—I'm sorry, Dr. Chopper, but I came to tell you that I have my first date with this girl tomorrow and I'm so excited, I needed to tell you.
—By God, Nicholas! And you've ridden all this mess just for that. You wake my daughters, you almost scared my wife to death, just to tell me that you have a date. Congratulations boy! But if you return with that angel face next to my wife at this time, I swear I'll kill you myself.
—I'm sorry Dr. Chopper, I won’t do it again. Thank you and see you tomorrow.
I couldn’t sleep that night. I leaned against the fireplace, curled up on a pile of cushions, staring into the fire. I was scared and if something went wrong ... Never before had I been with such a beautiful and nice girl. I reviewed mentally in front of the mirror of the flames, over and over again, the most appropriate strategy, what would be the words with which I should approach that princess. Dr. Chopper tried to calm me down the next day at his appointment.
—You see, son, before an important meeting, they say it helps to talk. Imagine for a moment that I am Nuria and you are you. Only metaphorically, of course, you don’t need to be excited. What would you say to me?
The thought of Dr. Chopper posing as Nuria made me smile, for I could never imagine having a date with someone so ugly. So I sat down in front of him and decided to follow the game.
—Hi, Nuria.
The Queen of the Northwest Page 5