The Breakfast

Photo by Rodion Kutsaev on Unsplash

It’s five o’clock in the morning. I’m leaving today! I have to be at the airport in a couple of hours and, since I arrived, I want to make her breakfast. I haven’t slept with her … not even a kiss, but I want to do it, it makes me feel like we are somebody else, at least for a while, so that I can forget my torments… for a while.

I’m in pajamas. The one I have is a ¨Jockey¨ brand… I haven’t ridden a horse for a while. I like it a lot, although a horse almost killed me: we were on a hill that had a fence on the top, we were parallel to it, and up there, there was not much room to maneuver. The fence was on the right, the hillside full of trees on the left, not very steep, but you had to know how to handle it. Suddenly, a branch coming to my face, I bend down, and the horse reacts with the pull of the reins, it goes towards the hillside, and I fall in front of it. I feel the horse’s legs hitting me in my chest, and they give me more momentum when rolling downhill. The horse passes under me, and I get up without a scratch and almost died of fright …That was close! I remember that my friend saw me and thanked that nothing had happened to me and that after that fall, the first thing I did was to get on the horse again. It is always important to do it: If something goes wrong, you have to do it again to avoid staying scared for life.

I take the arepas out of the freezer; they are of yellow corn; delicious! She gave me a taste of them some days ago. I take out the cheese and two tomatoes grown from her garden. I see things in the fridge very well organized and I’m glad to see it: she is a great woman, has her own garden, and knows how to grow it. She has a lot of love to give, but not for me: she doesn’t like me; that’s why I make breakfast today to pretend that we have been together for a long time and that this is a day like any other.

I put the pan on the fire, and, in front of the window, I see the green trees at dawn. I feel the smell of the wet earth and the distant song of a bird. I take a deep breath and let the delicious perfumes of that day to get me drunk a little. It’s going to be a beautiful day. It hurts that I’m leaving! I would love to have a picnic with her. Red and white checkered tablecloth with the classic basket, to see her with those jungle-colored eyes and make her laugh and see how the color changes to a Caribbean green… see those small and perfect teeth! White as clouds. They are a delight, a work of art on a face worthy of being in marble in the Louvre. The sun’s rays on his head fall undulating to the earth. I’m delirious!

The arepas are ready. Now it’s time to put the cheese on them and wait for it to melt a little. I cut the tomatoes calmly. I smell them. They smell good! The smell of vegetables changes dramatically, depending on where they were grown. And with the scent comes the taste. My mouth is watering during the cut. I cut them in wedges, and I take away the hearts. I know that those hearts will make a special sauce for a smooth pasta accompanied by a light wine … delicious! On a clear and moonlit night. Maybe I can take the table outside and … I get confused easily! My imagination flies away. The cheese melts slowly. I relax: nothing has is burnt. Ufff!… I put the tomatoes, the round arepa, the square cheese, and the slices of tomatoes above all of it: it looks like a painting by Miró. I take out the olive oil and decorate the dish with a Japanese-style brushstroke. The tea is hot, and the table is set.

She has Christofle cutlery, she loves antiques and has a very good taste to choose beautiful things. I’m still in my pajamas, and I see her come out. She’s fresh, her hair washed. Too bad that when it’s wet, it gets dark. But it doesn’t matter. She is beautiful: a white dress with brown shoes…the set looks great. She is not wearing makeup or jewelry, doesn’t need them! What a woman!

She sits down, and I serve her the dish. She tells me that she doesn’t feel like having breakfast … The heart of the tomato feels the same as mine. That sauce under the moonlight is not going to happen. I feel disappointed, but I still have a good smile, and I serve the dish to her. Suddenly I hear the snap! of a photo. I’m glad! The dish is well presented, a memory that will remain in her for a while, who knows for how long. We eat in silence and slowly,.. The silence is uncomfortable… I could not read her very well these days. I am in some kind of awakening, and when you wake up, even if it is softly, you can knock down the glass of water into the blankets and leave a dark circle on them. You know that you have to do something, but you are not sure what: removing the blankets and drying them is a whole matter, laying the bed and leaving them like this is lazy. There is no harm, but the discomfort is felt. In a moment she tells me that she can’t eat anymore. She leaves half of the food and finishes her tea.

I feel it is time to go and take a bath. I offer to wash the dishes, and she says no! She does not get entangled with a few dishes to wash. I know! I just wanted to help her and keep this feeling as if we were together. ¨I want you to leave at once!¨ I think to myself. I get up and go to take a shower for the last time, thinking about how clumsy I was in that house of clouds.

MAED

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