Lotus flower
Life could be defined as a series of mostly disposable facts. A set of expendable disgusting leftovers. Sort of like fried tomato stains on a freshly worn white shirt. A disgusting canvas of dark bitterness. In short and without frills: my life is brownish shit . It's been a full week. With its weekend included. Twenty-four hours that times seven days makes a total of a hundred and one hours. And Blake hasn't said anything to me. And not because I didn't give him a chance. I talked about the couch, his discounted installments, and even the colors that look best inside an oil lamp. And what did he do? Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Surely soon Anthony will confirm to me that it was all a terrible mistake. I don't want to be a pessimist, my thing is limited to a thorough study of present and past events. I could throw flowers at myself and invent that as a child I was a beautiful girl with blond curls and blue eyes. But since lies have shorter legs than cockroaches, and with the blessed luck I have, the fat filthy ones are capable of learning mind control and publishing my sorrows in the seven o'clock morning paper, I'm going to stick with the truth: I'm just one girl among many. One of those who will never appear on the cover of any fashion magazine or become Instagram influencers. As a teenager, with a face dotted with pimples, my profile competed with the extraordinary Greek cobs -the Greek word goes for the nose that at that time protruded between cheekbones that needed a kilo or two of chickpeas-, but I was not one to get fat. The acne, not satisfied with my face, jumped to the hidden side of my body. A case in a million said the dermatologist analyzing meticulously the cheeks of my ass. I could say that the years went by, and according to my grandmother and Elvira, thank God I got well. I wouldn't be so sure. My hair is still as brownish, my eyes as almond-shaped and my height... I'd better not talk about it. But all thanks to God.
What can we do, that was my grandmother To?i, a fervent devotee of the obvious. That we had macaroni for lunch, thank God. That if I passed an exam, thank God. That the pimples didn't leave marks on either side of my face, thank God. That my boyfriend gored me with the busty slut from the supermarket around the corner, thank God. And so I grew up. No acne marks, below average height and horns that make you laugh at Santa's reindeer. Because Rubén, everything he had of handsome, he put in infidelities. And from those sands this reality. I was already saying that I shouldn't sign up for...
-Concentrate! -The tree!
The yoga teacher perfectly places her right foot on her left knee, raising her hands to the sky like a cat begging for her slice of ham.
I'm trying, I swear I'm trying. My problem lies in movement and coordination with fussing. Karina's scowling threats from a distance don't help.
I'm trying! I answer with the glare of my desperate gaze. Laura, for her part, waves her hands in the direction of our friend pleading for sympathy for my life. For some reason she always feared for my physical integrity. I don't understand her concerns.
-I try...
I swear I put my will to it. By intentions I never fail.
Laura fixes her pleading eyes on me. She doesn't know it, but the maternal instinct is in her blood. She's so sweet that I hope one day she'll find a boy who values her love of life. She is so sweet that...
-Fuck! -Oh! Sorry, sorry. Namaste. Namaste -. I plead joining hands seeking in the action the blessed forgiveness.
The teacher closes her eyes in disgust. As if the faces that have just hit the ground were hers and not mine. And that's the way the world is. Let's see if we practice the kindness we teach!
-Do you want to stop? -Karina, even if she seems the toughest, and seconds before she wanted to kill me, she is a little lump of brown sugar at heart. The problem is to find the sugar bowl where she hides her sweetness. She helps me to get up, and although my right foot intertwines with my left, I manage. We make it.
-I can. Stubbornness is one of my persevering virtues.
Karina returns to her mat with alacrity.
-The child's posture!
I'm a little better at that one ," I murmur, biting my lip.
The proximity to the ground balances my center of gravity. The girls watch me twisting their heads from side to side without taking their eyes off me. This lack of confidence moves me. In my defense, I'll say that I'm more into spinning. I was good at the classes. The problem in those classes was not me but Laura and her three extra kilos. The poor thing couldn't get up. She was left with the saddle embedded at the end of the world. That turned out to be a huge tragedy with no thanks to God.
-Lotus Flower!
And here we go. What! Have we changed already?
-Come on girls! There is no balance without love and no love without balance.
Balance and love? You should have explained it to Ruben. The bastard didn't mind unbalancing his head inside the Mercadona cashier's fat tits and leaving me like Bambi in...
-Silence!
I haven't spoken! My thoughts are my thoughts. Don't say she's like the cockroaches on the 7:00 a.m. morning show? She knows everything. Does she have telekinetic powers? Did she study with the Dalai Lama? I don't think she likes me. Says my keen instinct and that raised eyebrow that rises as she looks at me every five seconds.
-Dog posture!
It's all right. I got it. I'm silent in thought.
And everything would have been perfect if the body as well as my brain had been silenced.
Blame it on the damn dog and his posturing! I've known it all along. Fiber before sports is dangerous, but of course, I was too busy to start cooking. What can I say in my defense? It was a seen and not seen. Or rather unseen and heard. Because it rang, it rang. As of today, oatmeal yogurt is banished from my diet.
I will admit that it could have been much worse, but I was there to explain the theories of thanks to God to the old lady who, doing the dog posture next to me, swallowed the first of the impacts. The poor woman could not even detoxify herself by moving her hands. With the mat stuck to mine, she left the ship like a rat before the imminent arrival of pirates. She dragged the mat with her hands. And she entered the classroom supported by a four-wheeled walker. My body, trying to hide the ruin, moved in an unfortunate dance that did not provoke anything other than a strong, and now yes, unstoppable machine gun. And as thunder comes when one appears, and silence intensifies it, there I was, standing in the middle of the room watching the ladies fight head to head for a gap in the window and get a whiff of the fresh nature. Did I say that right across the street are the garbage cans? Apparently, they didn't care.
And thus culminates my initial reflection. My life sucks. In the broad context of the word.
No matter how many infusions they order or how many minutes go by, the wretched women just won't stop laughing. Are these my friends? I should take inventory on the low side.
-A coffee!
The waiter twitches his mustache from side to side. He doesn't look happy. Today is not my day.
-Coffee? No accompaniment? -He taps a finger on his wristwatch.
As if occupying a place for hours consuming three infusions would make a human being as hapless as me. He won't have the rent, but I let my dignity go up my ass. It will seem little to him.
-Would three cheese toasts be all right? -Laura consulted the miserly owner who changed his mood instantly.
-They should be black bread," Karina clarifies. White flour gives us gas.
He bursts out laughing. Again. I look for a hole in the wood of the floor where I can bury myself.
-Take camellias. They last longer," I clarify as I push an ant carrying a crumb of bread away with my foot.
-It's no big deal.
-Karina feels a moral obligation to support Laura's opinion.
-You are bad liars.
-It's really not that bad. Laura tries to be sympathetic as her cheekbones rise and fall rosily. She is holding back. I don't trust her. Not one bit. I decide to stop my burial under the table and listen to her anyway. You're human. We've all been through something like this at one time or another.
-I'm not going back to that class," I pout like a little girl.
-I doubt very much if they will allow us.... -Karina looked at Laura who, with bad disguise, asked her to swallow her tongue.
-Why can't we go back? -I challenge Laura to continue.
-If they expel you, they expel all three of us. Karina has a character as big as her heart.
-They expelled me? How do they know?
-It wasn't exactly like that. When you were changing, my colleagues were waiting for me at the door. They watch out for your safety," Karina tries to contain herself. Environmental safety. She bursts out laughing. Again.
I decide to bury my head in the splintered wood of the table. It's a quicker suicide than lifting the floorboards. Besides, the poor ant just hid some sugar in the hole.
-We should try Aqua Gym," Laura says, wiping her tears. They say it's very good for the...
-Osteoarthritis? -Karina answers and Laura threatens her with a narrow look. My head is still buried in the table. Maybe with luck the wood will choke me. I'm not going to Aqua Gym. I'm at least fifty years away from it.
-I'm sorry... -I say softly, causing Karina to regret her complaints.
-It's not your fault.
-Then whose? I can't afford better sports.
The toast arrives. I stop burying my head to make room for them at the table.
-We're not in a position to throw money on the air either. Why else would we help you in the radio section?
-Because they don't get paid. Because they are my friends. Because you are good girls. Because I'm the idiot who studied a degree that doesn't pay for activities other than those subsidized by the city council. Shall I go on?
-Things will get better. You are a superb professional. You'll see the big break come one day.
My bite of toast is so listless that Laura's motivational phrases don't even graze my upper epithelium.
-Decided, Aqua Gym. It's very good and will prepare our bones for when we're in our seventies. Laura reads the information brochure from the town hall on her cell phone. And with an average age of eighty-three, I'm not ashamed to wear a swimsuit. All advantages. She laughs and winks at me.
-Not to mention that we have experience in the world of torpedoes. Karina completes the sentence before bursting out laughing again. What else can I do? What you can't beat, you go around.
-You are idiots...
They hug me and I hug them.
That's the thing about friendship. Where others offend, friends discover a space for fun.
-Which of the three is the dumbest? And what's with the torpedoes?
A deep and very recognizable voice echoes behind me. That's all I need. Now I'm really lost. Anthony is as handsome as he is unstoppable. But that wouldn't be so bad, if the boy with the most nocturnal eyes in the universe wasn't standing next to him with his gaze fixed on me.
-Waiter! A double and very bitter coffee. I say as I make a place among the toasts. Hopefully I die of gastritis.
-Take me calla lilies. They last longer than camellias.