Este relato es la extensión de un zapfic que escribí hace un tiempo.
This story is an extension of a zapfic I wrote some time ago.
Recorrió la galería con la mirada y se sintió incómoda. Su pasado aún jugaba sobre esas baldosas, pero no podía encontrar nada que le perteneciera. Él le sonreía desde la puerta. Una sonrisa fría, pensó ella.
—Hola, ¿cómo estás? —dijo el hombre.
Respondió con un movimiento de cabeza, leve pero perceptible. No quiso mirarlo. Prefirió observar su propio reflejo en el ventanal. Había crecido. Ya no era la misma, y sin embargo era poco lo que había cambiado: el pelo más largo, los labios y las uñas pintados de negro y, debajo de la ropa, las cosas que no se reflejaban: los tatuajes y las cicatrices.
—¿Querés pasar? Preparé café.
—Prefiero quedarme acá —respondió ella, pero frase le sonó extraña. Prefería irse. Irse cuanto antes.
El hombre entró a la casa y salió con una caja en sus manos.
—Mamá quería que vos tuvieras esto.
Mientras agarraba la caja, quiso llorar. La extrañaba. Mucho. No se perdonaba no haber estado allí. Quizás esa última mirada las hubiera redimido. O tal vez no. Tal vez solo hubiera encontrado decepción o rabia. Se preguntaba cómo habría sido morir allí, con ese hombre que no comprendía nada, llena de impotencia.
—¿Querés sentarte un rato?
Se sentaron. Observó sus propias manos apoyando la caja sobre la mesa. Eran demasiado grandes para su gusto, demasiado toscas. No quería mirarlo. Prefería no estar allí y se odiaba por sentirse en casa. Recorrió las plantas con la vista. Eran perfectas. Ni una hoja marchita. Y allí, entre las macetas, vio la pelota. Se sobresaltó. Trató de que no se notara, pero él se dio vuelta, siguiendo su mirada.
—Es solo un objeto.
Ella no respondió. Quiso concentrarse en las vetas de la madera.
—¿Te molesta? ¿Querés que la tire?
—Hacé lo que quieras.
—Yo sé que hice las cosas mal, hijo, pero quizás algún día puedas perdonarme. Mamá hubiera...
—No quiero escucharte —dijo. Y mientras hablaba, se dio cuenta de que se estaba tocando la cicatriz que tenía en la pierna. Era como una palabra. Una marca que le hablaba y que le hablaría siempre, aunque no quisiera escucharla, aunque se tapara los oídos, aunque la ocultara bajo la ropa. Era la voz de ese hombre encarnada en su pierna, repitiendo una y otra vez lo mismo.
Se levantó. Agarró la caja.
—Me voy.
Él asintió, apretando los labios, como si fingiera cierto pesar. Se despidieron a destiempo, como fantasmas.
[ENG - Translated with Deepl]
She gazed around the gallery and felt uneasy. Her past still played on those tiles, but she couldn't find anything that belonged to her. He was smiling at her from the doorway. A cold smile, she thought.
"Hello, how are you," said the man.
She responded with a slight but perceptible nod of her head. She didn't want to look at him. She preferred to look at her own reflection in the window. She had grown up. She was no longer the same, and yet little had changed: her hair was longer, her lips and nails painted black and, under her clothes, the things that were not reflected: the tattoos and the scars.
"Do you want to come in? I prepared coffee."
"I'd rather stay here," she answered, but the phrase sounded strange to her. She preferred to leave. To leave as soon as possible.
The man entered the house and came out with a box in his hands.
"Mom wanted you to have this."
As he grabbed the box, she wanted to cry. She missed her. Very much. She couldn't forgive herself for not being there. Maybe that last look would have redeemed them. Or maybe it wouldn't. Maybe she would only have found disappointment or anger. She wondered what it would have been like to die there, with that man who didn't understand anything, full of impotence.
"Would you like to sit down for a while?"
They sat down. She looked at her own hands resting the box on the table. They were too big for her taste, too rough. She didn't want to look at him. She preferred not to be there and hated herself for feeling at home. He scanned the plants with his eyes. They were perfect. Not a wilted leaf. And there, among the pots, she saw the ball. She was startled. She tried not to let it show, but he turned around, following her gaze.
"It's just an object."
She didn't answer. She wanted to concentrate on the grain of the wood.
"Does it bother you? Do you want me to throw it away?"
"Do what you want."
"I know I did things wrong, son, but maybe someday you can forgive me. Mom would have..."
"I don't want to listen to you," she said. And as she spoke, she realized she was touching the scar on her leg. It was like a word. A mark that spoke to her and would always speak to her, even if she didn't want to hear it, even if she covered her ears, even if she hid it under her clothes. It was the voice of that man incarnated in his leg, repeating the same thing over and over again.
She stood up. She grabbed the box.
"I'm leaving."
He nodded, pursing his lips, as if feigning some regret. They said goodbye at the wrong time, like ghosts.
La imagen fue creada con el modelo de inteligencia artificial Stable Diffusion.
The image was created with the Stable Diffusion artificial intelligence model.
Wow. 👀
👏
Hello!
You can write, dude. Like really, really write!
I think Deep may be mis-translating some words? Gender seems to shift and one or two other words don't "fit". But if this is the translation from Spanish (!! - there's some incredibly good writing here!!) I'd team up with someone to check and adjust for you? An editor to go over final translation.
You are really good! And I'm not trying to score votes or anything.
@boxcarblue ... um 👀
I’m glad you’ve found him. He’s a great writer.
Thank you so much for your reading and your comment (and for the tip)! I'm so glad you liked it. Certainly, Deepl sometimes brings me problems with genders; it has a tendency to always put the masculine, even when the text came speaking in feminine. I have to change it by hand and check it several times. And, of course, there are always words that are difficult to translate (I often write with regionalisms for which I can't find the right tone in English). In this particular case, however, there is an intended play with gender, because it's about a trans person, who is perceived as female, but whom the father still perceives as a male. Maybe that's what you noticed? Although it could also be that there are other gender errors that I missed. I thank you again for your comment and I leave you a greeting!
Ah... I did wonder :) Very clever.
It translates rather beautifully. It hasn't lost the poetry / metaphor of your writing which is pretty amazing!
Greetings back to you. You're very good! Did you study?
Thanks again! Yes, I studied a long time ago, now I work as a book editor, mainly school books. !PIMP
You must be killin' it out here!
1.000 PIMP@agreste just slapped you with , @nickydee.
You earned 1.000 PIMP for the strong hand.
They're getting a workout and slapped 1/1 possible people today.
Read about some PIMP Shit or Look for the PIMP District
Ah... that makes sense then!
Okay. Don't let school kill your creativity ;)
I'll be back!
As always, I wish I could read your work in Spanish. This is a great scene with a lot of alluded to but unstated things that build tension and interest in the reader.
I really love the last line, They said goodbye at the wrong time, like ghosts.
Yes, the foreign language is like a glass wall: you can see what the other side is about, but you can't get in. Thanks so much for the comment! I'm glad you liked it!
Very well said.
Mine too!
And oh... you found them :)
Yay! 🤗
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beautiful write up. At a point i found it hard to understand whats going on but i followed through to the end of what happen.
where they lovers who broke up?
Hi, thanks for reading! Actually they are father and daughter/son, depending on how she sees herself or how the father sees her/him. Maybe that's where the confusion comes from.
Oh.. Now I get.. Thanks for the explanation.. That was where the confusion came in..
Thank you for reading!
A lot of questions to be answered here, living everyone in limbo lol. great fiction.
#dreemport
Yes, I like to leave the plot open for the reader to draw their own conclusions. Thanks for commenting!
Wonderful fiction. Read it twice to understand. 👍
Wonderful fiction. Read it twice to understand. 👍
Thank you! I'm glad you liked it!
Always full of emotion and depth. I love reading you, Agreste. I guess some relationships can't handle honesty and truth. One party prefers to live under the illusion of happiness, while the other struggles to accept and be accepted.
!LUV !ALIVE !PIMPI dropped in from Dreemport this evening. #dreemer for life
Hi, @samsmith1971! Thank you very much for your comment! I think you're right, there are relationships that can't handle honesty. Sometimes the desire of how you want the other person to be is so strong that it doesn't allow you to accept what the other person wants to be. Cheers! !LUV
Aah yes, preconceived ideas and perspectives!! Too much projection and not enough reflection🙌 well said, my friend! !LUV
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You must be killin' it out here!
1.000 PIMP@samsmith1971 just slapped you with , @agreste.
You earned 1.000 PIMP for the strong hand.
They're getting a workout and slapped 1/1 possible people today.
Read about some PIMP Shit or Look for the PIMP District
You Are Alive so I just staked 0.1 $ALIVE(1/10)@agreste! to your account on behalf of @samsmith1971.
The tip has been paid for by the We Are Alive Tribe
through the earnings on @alive.chat, feel free to swing by our daily chat any time you want.
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