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Don't Come Back Here Any More

Page 14

by Pedro Menchén


  I’m sorry I have to go like this, mate, but I don’t love you and I can’t be your boyfriend. I’m not like you. Get it? There’s only one person in the world that I really love and you know who that is.

  The money that I’m taking you can consider a loan. Some day I’ll give it back to you.

  Take care of yourself and I hope everything goes OK.

  J.J.

  I couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night, and when morning broke, haggard and worn out, I went down to reception with the intention of paying the bill and getting out of there as soon as I could. Although I didn’t know how, since I didn’t want to call attention by revealing my personal situation.

  I had supposed that the coffee shop would still be closed, so it gave me a welcome surprise when I saw not only that it was open, but that there were already several people having breakfast. The guests, as usual in establishments of this type, go to bed early and get up very early to go hiking and all that sort of thing. Ecological tourism. The best of all. I thought about how beautiful it would have been to wake up next to J.J. that morning, in that magnificent bed with a canopy, to make love one more time, to take a good shower and then go down for breakfast and take a walk through the surroundings, strolling along the creek or climbing the foothills of a mountain. But no. No way! How could I have been such an idiot to imagine that something like that could happen? I’m not like you. Get it? I can’t be your boyfriend. There’s only one person in the world that I really love and you know who that is. Yes, of course. How could I have been so blind? I didn’t see, or I didn’t want to see that he’s not like me, that he couldn’t reciprocate what I felt. How stupid I was. He lived with a man, yes, but he was a child and perhaps the only thing he did was let the other guy ... But that’s not homosexuality! If you let yourself be touched but you don’t touch or look at the one who touches you, if you don’t desire the one who touches you ..., that’s not homosexuality! And now I understand why ... Somehow, he shied away from my mouth. And he didn’t want to kiss me! He was too kind in letting me kiss him. He didn’t want to hurt my feelings. He can go to bed with other men. Yes. I don’t doubt it. But only to ... And what I wanted was something more. Something that he couldn’t give me. Not sex, but love. True love. Love of comrades. And he ... he only wanted to fuck! Not kiss, nor caress! Only fuck! Stick his dick in some hole! But men don’t give a damn about that! I’m not like you. I can’t be your boyfriend. All right. That’s fine. I understand. Nothing happens. If you can understand my homosexuality, I can also understand your heterosexuality. But I’ve been an imbecile. I let myself be fooled by my own feelings. That boy isn’t even bisexual. He’s only sexual. Fuck! A hitman! A murderer! I even got lucky! lucky that he didn’t ...! Okay. Okay. It was great while it lasted. I’m not going to regret anything. But now ... now what? Yeah, that, what? Right now go back. I have to go back. I have to get out of here. This place is stupendous. I like it. The blonde woman is ... I like her. This place is incredible. I would like to stay, but I can’t. The scenery is ... No, I’m not going to cry over J.J. No. No way. That’s finished. And I would so love to cry! If I stay here ... No. No way. I’ve lost the strength to fight. And I must fight. I must confront reality. The reality of an absurd life and without incentives. Not because I would be that way. No way. These things happen to anybody. But my life is absurd. I’m thirty-one years old and I still haven’t learned how to live. Absurd, yes! Living is not easy, knowing how to live. I don’t know how to live. They didn’t teach me to … I’ve always lived in a cloud. I didn’t ... I’m going to start over. I have to ... Fuck, and today is the 24th of December! Tonight is Christmas Eve! I have to go home and stay by myself inside all night, all weekend ... How am I not going to feel like crying?

  “Good morning!” said the blonde woman, with a friendly smile, after placing on the table two plates of toast, of course made from whole wheat bread. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Marvelously!” I said. “Thank you very much!”

  “Will you be spending Christmas Eve here or will you be going to Majorca after all?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Your friend asked my husband last night where he could catch the boat for Majorca, but I don’t know if you’re going today or tomorrow. You can keep the room until noon, but I need to know how many guests we’re going to have for dinner.”

  “We’re going today,” I said. “I’ve come down to pay the bill. I fell asleep immediately last night. I’m sorry. I missed the pumpkin soup. I was so tired! The previous night I didn’t sleep at all! And where did your husband say we could catch the boat? In Barcelona, in Valencia?”

  “No. In Denia. It’s closer. You can get there in an hour or two on the expressway.”

  “Oh, great! Wonderful. I’ll tell my friend.”

  “My husband already told him.” She flashed me a sassy smile while she poured boiling water into a teapot, and added: “Well, if you didn’t have dinner last night, you must be hungry! Do you want to have breakfast now or do you prefer to wait until your friend comes down?”

  “No, no. I’ll have breakfast now.”

  “Of course.”

  “Oh, and please get my bill ready ... By the way, can I pay with a credit card?”

  THIRD PART

  CHRISTMAS STORY

  “Gabriel having finished, the huge pudding was transferred to the table. The clatter of forks and spoons began again. Gabriel’s wife served out spoonfuls of the pudding and passed plates down the table. Midway down they were held up by Mary Jane, who replenished them with raspberry or orange jelly, or with blancmange and jam. The pudding was of Aunt Julia’s making and she received praises for it from all quarters. She herself said that it was not quite brown enough.”

  JAMES JOYCE

  CHAPTER XI

  Already, already it was starting. Luckily I could catch the train on time. They realized. Yes, I think that ... Luckily that boy brought me this far. But ... Yes, I think they realized. The newspaper, right away. I have to look at the newspaper to see ... Nice boy ... They realized, yes. Very kind. And a nice pickup truck. Wow, and what a disgrace, leaving me dumped out here ... Bastard, bastard! But it’s all right. I’ll get to Madrid at ... at supper time. The headline ... No, there’s no headline. No. Nothing on the first page. So he’s gone to Majorca. Yes, of course, to meet that girl. Dora, his beloved Dora. No. Not on these pages either. And on Christmas, with all its sentimental claptrap ... Nor on the following pages. Nothing. I’m sure the two of them must have reconciled. The Commerce Secretary was fired ... Still speculations about his motives ... not very convincing for the opposition ... If she is kidnapped or confined in some way, he’ll get her free. And if she’s involved in prostitution of her own free will (but who’s involved in prostitution of their own free will?), he’ll forgive her. Although ... when he threw the gun into the creek ... It was as if he wanted to turn a page, erase his past. “This story is ended.” Yes, that’s what he said. Not in the booklet of the City of Madrid either. A very romantic story. A year without seeing her and at the end ... Freed from the yoke ... with no ties ... But without me. No. That’s not it. Another woman murdered. Bastard, bastard! When will ke quit ...? They vanished from there, leaving no trace. And if she loves him ... But why not love him? Who couldn’t love a boy like that? They’ll get back together, they’ll fall in love again, they’ll go to live far away, somewhere, another island perhaps, so some lost corner of the Balearics, where nobody can find them, never again, and where they will be very ... But, at least, that’s what I want to think. No, don’t worry about money, J.J. Consider it my wedding gift. Take good care of yourself and get along well. Aha, here’s the headline:

  THREE WOUNDED IN SHOOTOUT WITH POLICE

  Wild shootout yesterday in Madrid, resulting in the wounding in varying degrees of severity of two Colombians and a Spanish citizen. Apparently the police attempted prevent an attack against P.T.M. on the part of two Colombian hitmen, against whom there was an outs
tanding arrest warrant. The victim was the one who notified the police.

  The victim called the police! No. J.J. didn’t call the police. Although, in theory, he wasn’t the victim, but rather this P.T.M. An who is that ...? No. I don’t understand anything. Did I read the wrong story? I’ll start from the beginning. THREE WOUNDED IN ... And there was another murder last week ... Also Colombians. A boom in Colombian-related crime in Spain ... What ...? Four years ago there were only 21,000 Colombians and today ... today there are ... some 240,000. Of those, 90,000 in Madrid. Most of them ... Yes, of course, good people. They come to work ... Also criminals, hired kidnappers, drug traffickers, hitmen ... Of all those, some 500. They cause a lot of trouble ... They tarnish the image of the Colombian community in Spain. In one year, between 1999 and 2000, fourteen Colombians were murdered in Madrid ... A year later, seventeen. The main victims of the Madrid cartel ... The Madrid cartel! ... their own fellow countrymen. They don’t usually attack Spanish citizens. But today ... Settling of scores. “Lately it seems that we are in any Colombian city.” says a Colombian resident in Spain. He prefers not to give his name. Like in Colombia ... Teenage hitmen ... Last week they shot from a ... as it occurred last week in a recent murder ... motorcycle. In the door of his ... face uncovered, in full view of all his neighbors. Today’s hitmen wait in a car for their money. Yes, I know. I know. I know they’re there. The cold ... That’s not Colombia. It was very cold this morning. Why hasn’t Colombian crime gone to Germany, France, or Italy? Good question. Very sharp, this journalist. There are important Colombian colonies there too. On February 1, 2002, there were 1,954 Colombians in prison, convicted, or awaiting judgement. Ecuadorians, with a resident population of between 25% or 40% greater and with a similar human and cultural profile ... on the same date ... 162 prisoners. A percentage twelve times lower. Crime coming in from Colombia could convert Madrid into the crime capital of Europe ... In a recent police report it is verified that an authentic interdelictive Mafia is set up in the Spanish capital that some call the Madrid cartel... The Madrid cartel! ... structured in multiple gangs or independent family clans ... Colombian crime is one of the most violent in the world ... In Colombia every year 350 police officers die in confrontations with criminals. 365 days in the year ... almost one police officer every day. In Spain the figure is two dead police officers a year ... Is that all? Is it finished? There’s no more.[1]

  Atocha. This is Atocha. We’re already at Atocha. Two-thirty in the afternoon. No, I’m not going to eat. I’m not hungry. A snack? A little snack and a beer? Yes, a beer! I’m thirsty for a beer. I should really tie one on. Or maybe I’m just afraid to go home? I don’t know what I’m going to find there. Maybe the police have sealed up my door. Some hitman has forced the lock and broken in? Will they think that I ...? Will they want to kill me? This is all absurd. Or is it? But I like to think about it. I like to think that some terrible imminent danger is closing in on me. But it’s better to be in danger than alone and bored. It’s always a comfort to know that somebody’s watching over you, that somebody’s thinking about you, even if it’s just to kill you. No. I don’t mind dying. Come on, bastard, shoot me! No, not you. Let him do it. Come on, finish me once and for all. Shoot me! But do it with style and elegance. That is, like this, looking me in the eye. Come on! What are you waiting for? What nonsense! More than fear of hitmen is disappointment ... Besides, tonight is Christmas Eve and tomorrow is Christmas. I have to make some calls. I have to ... Engagements. Family, friends ... I’m not looking forward to it and I don’t enjoy it. At least I should return the calls on the answering machine (there’ll be more than one). I’m not going to turn the computer on either. No, I’m not going on the Internet. No, not today. I don’t want to go home. It’s too soon. What am I going to do there? It’s not the hitmen. It’s the ... And if I go now, I’ll be cooped up there all weekend and I won’t go out until Monday, when I have to go to ... I’ll walk across Plaza Atocha and keep walking through Paseo del Prado up to Cibeles. Afterwards ... Ah, the number 27! The same bus where I met J.J.! And at the same stop! No. No. It’s morbid. It’s ... but, what ...? He doesn’t love me. Even if he says he loves me, he doesn’t love me! He never ... never loved me. A sexual experience, only one, and too expensive! Three hundred euros! Come on, not even a first-class hustler! Too many problems for ... But I was on the verge of losing my life because of him! Fuck, and how the bullets were flying over my head! No. I’m not going to miss him now. I don’t love you any more! Do you hear me? And don’t come back here any more! I can’t be your boyfriend. I’m not like you. Go fuck yourself! I don’t need you! I don’t love you either! What do you think? You’re resentful. It was nice while it lasted. That’s life. Damn it! The Paseo del Prado. I’ll go up Huertas Street, to Plaza Santa Ana. I’ll slip into the Ideal Cineplex, into one of its theaters. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. And I’ll spend the afternoon there. A couple of cans of beer and a big bucket of popcorn. To keep my hands occupied. So as not to think. When I come out of the theater, it’ll be night, late, and then I’ll go straight home to bed. With no dinner, of course. What do I care about Christmas Eve dinner?! An awesome plan! Two cans of beer, an American movie ... Bad, action, with lots of violence ... and a big bucket of popcorn ... No, I’m not going to call anybody. Fuck them! Nobody! Not my sister or anybody! I’m fed up with hypocrisy! I always ... No. I never ... Christmas. Fuck them! I don’t need anybody’s affection! Besides that, I’m an atheist, what do I care about Christmas?

  I walked along until I got to the Ideal Cineplex and I kept walking home. It was far, very far, but I didn’t care. I could have taken the metro or a bus, but I didn’t. The longer it took me to get there the better. Much better.

  I crossed Sol, I got to Callao by way of Preciados and I kept going along Gran Vía toward Argüelles. I turned from there toward Cuatro Caminos and I kept walking along Castellana toward Plaza de Castilla ... Walking entertained me. I was afraid of staying quiet. Even though I was already worn out. At least the exercise made me warm. And it kept me from thinking. I made a brief stop in a bar to have a beer and I kept walking. Another half hour walking. And the night was still left! Finally I reached my street and I stopped at the bar on the corner. Even here you could see the inevitable atmosphere of Chrismas! The sickening smiles, the exaggerated and forced friendliness, the overly generous finger food, which I did not want to eat, but which I didn’t dare refuse so as not to seem rude, the fucking Christmas carols, the fucking Christmas tree. Fuck, and on top of all that I have to smile at this jerk of a bartender that I don’t even like and who doesn’t even like me! All this is pathetic. What am I doing here? I ought to go home. What am I doing drinking one beer after another, when I have no desire to drink any more? I want to get drunk, of course, but am I going to solve anything that way? I’m going straight home, as soon as I drink this one. I’m going to bed and sleep until tomorrow. I’m going to waste no time falling asleep. I’m very tired. I did well to walk so much. And besides, I’ve hardly slept for two nights. But I’m going to unplug the telephone so nobody bothers me. Tomorrow morning I’ll start a new life. I’ll go out for a walk. A walk through Retiro? Better through Casa de Campo. An ecological walk. Or down the street. If I don’t destroy anything, I’m being ecological, even walking down the street ... But what ...? Am I stupid or what? What does ecology have to do with ...? Starting on Monday, I’ll begin a new life. Monday. Tomorrow I’ll be too worn down. I’ll make new friends. I’ll go out more often. I won’t be cooped up in the house all day. No way! Starting tomorrow everything will be different. Life ... much more beautiful. I’m still young ... I’ve got a good job ... What am I complaining about? Why do I feel like a failure? A lot of guys would envy my situation. Fuck no, again with the fucking smile, no! What is it with this fucking bartender? Is he drunk or what? He doesn’t like me. I know he doesn’t like me. He’s always disliked me. No, I’m not going to drink any more. Another beer, please. No, fuck, I was just leaving! Yes, in the same glas
s. I’m quite attached to this glass. And the idiot laughs. He must be drunk. I don’t like him. I have always disliked this guy. Although, now that I get a good look at him, he’s not ugly. I even think I like him a little. No. He’s not bad at all. He has something, he has ... Fuck! But I do like him! I think I like him! I dislike him because I like him! It’s the fucking truth! Or maybe because I don’t have anything to do with him! He’s a little crude. He thinks he’s ... No. Nothing. But who knows? Maybe today. He’s very nice to me today. As he is to everybody. It’s his job and he feels content. He’s content because he’s getting off a little early. That’s it. I’ll keep on drinking beer. If you insist. Cheers! Fuck, but ... he’s a hottie, the bastard! He knows that I ... Yes, he knows. Pedro and I used to come here a few times and he realized. Maybe I ought to make a pass at him. I’m going to ... But no way. Some other day. If he rejects me, it would be an embarrassment to come back here later. Anyway, I should give it a try. But not today. Some other day. Who knows? Maybe it’s easier that I thought. Guys like this play hard to get ... Please, another beer. I don’t even know his name. Paco or Antonio, I think. Yes, Antonio. He slipped by. He didn’t hear me. He’s very busy or else maybe I spoke too softly. Of course. I’m going to get drunk. I’ll sleep better, even though, like always, I’ll get sentimental. I know myself. And I’ll end up crying. Every time I look at that guy I feel like crying. Desire! And to think I didn’t like him! Just like with Pedro. The same thing. First I didn’t like him and then ... But why did I dislike him so much? If I like him, fuck, I like him! Ah, he’s coming, he’s coming this way! Please, would you give me another beer? And why did I say it in such a faggoty tone of voice? No, I can’t help it. And then I say that he can’t tell! A straight guy would never say “Please, would you give me another beer?” He would say: “Hey, a beer!” or maybe: “Another one!” pointing to the glass with a finger. I admire those uncouth heterosexual gestures, but I’m not capable of talking that way. I can’t. Here he comes. I’m getting the hots for him. What a body he has! What a body he must have ... oh, yeah, under those clothes. And his neck, how I would like to kiss him there ... But what ...? And what arms ...! This is on the house. Ah!, yes? Thank you! You have another one too. I can invite you, can’t I? Yes, of course. A beer or whatever you want. A whisky, maybe? No. A beer. I like beer. Same as me. There’s nothing like a good cool beer, right? Cheers! Cheers! And merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! What time are you closing today? Oh, he’s going to suspect ... You’re going before that, you’re closing before that, right? Yes. In an hour, more or less. Oh, look, do you know her? Mamen. She’s my girlfriend. Oh, your girlfriend? My name is Ramón. Hello! I think I know you. I’ve seen you around here before. Yes. I know you too. You used to come in here before with a guy, didn’t you? Yes. I didn’t know you were his girlfriend. Would you like a drink? I’m already drinking. Thank you. Oh, well! Cheers! Cheers! What a day! Unbelievable! So many people! Yes. I’ve had too much to drink. Forgive me if I say something stupid. Do you know what time it is? I forgot to pick up my watch. Or rather, I don’t like to wear a watch. Quarter after five. No! That can’t be! Already quarter after five? Well then I have to go, Mamen. I’m sorry. They’re waiting for me. Let me have my bill, please. What a put-down! So he has a girlfriend! I hope she didn’t notice my disappointment. But I hate her. I don’t want to hate her, but I hate her. For having him as a boyfriend. It’s on the house. Why is that? Today is Christmas Eve ... Yes, but charge me for the others. She seems like a nice girl. And it’s not her fault that I’m attracted to her boyfriend. Let it go. It’s a holiday ... It’s Christmas. But what ...? All this is too much. These things only happen in Spain. Fuck, how can he not charge me for the beers that I drank? No, no, please. Give me the check. Well, I don’t know. How many did you have? I don’t remember. It’s Christmas. People get so sentimental ... Five or six. Don’t you know? It’s all right, pay me for two. There were more. I don’t care. It’s Christmas. You’re a regular customer, aren’t you? Today I have carte blanche to treat customers. Pay me for two. The others are on the house. Well, all right, thank you. So you’re his girlfriend. Well I’m delighted to meet you, Mamen. Mamen? Did you say Mamen? Are you going to eat in his house or yours? In our house. We live together. Oh, very good! That’s awesome! And you’ll do something special. Turkey and all that, right? No way! Something very simple. Neither he nor I like to cook. And then are you going to go out? I don’t think so. Some friends are coming to visit us. We’re celebrating at home. Awesome! I also celebrate at home. With your friend? Yes, yes. She knows I’m gay. Everybody around here knows I’m gay. He does too, and in spite of everything, he’s very kind ... Now, because he was a jerk before, and all because it’s Christmas. I like him. Now that he has a girlfriend and I can’t think about him, I like him. And he didn’t even charge me for half the beers! People are ... I don’t understand it. I ... Well, I have to go. It’s almost five-thirty! They’re waiting for me. I also have guests and I like to cook, so I’ll make something complicated. I ordered Christmas pudding. I have to go pick it up at a bakery. I love Christmas pudding ever since I tried it once in a hotel! It’s hard to find in Madrid. Some places import it. What a fucking liar I am! A lot I care about Christmas pudding! Well, delighted to meet you, Mamen. See you soon. Say good-bye to him for me, please. I see that he’s very busy. See you again. Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!

 

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