Bazaar of decisions E-Book

Marcia Borjas

• Herausgeber: Letrame Grupo Editorial
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 410

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Life is a Bazaar of decisions is a shaking novel based on true life, where a human being, very human, journeys through an exceptional life. A life of needy childhood and later on, a rich or abundant childhood. Kidnapping. Drug trafficking. A voyager of several years around the world. The sadness of knowing that your loved ones are disheartened because of his absence or disgrace. Meeting again with persons that were not so loved but that start to mean something different to him in his life. Prison. Sadness. Sickness. Encounter a light and with hope, being a new life at an older age. We must not postpone life; we have to do whatever is possible to cultivate life is a desgrace. Life is the only thing we have. Roberto's story is not told for free, there is a message to rescue, and that story is the one that impacts Marcia who writes about Roberto's griefs and highlights the hopeful messages of his character of victim of the circumstances but that is his last days was able to find a true message which is important to disclose. In this book, Marcia Borjas knows to share that message.

Leseprobe

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Letrame Editorial.

www.Letrame.com

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© María de Lourdes Rodríguez Borjas Garza

Edition design: Letrame Editorial.

ISBN: 978-84-1114-676-0

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.

To my children Noemi and Samuel.

You have my admiration.

.

You… how would you like

to be remembered?

INTRODUCTION

From birth, we are constantly making decisions. First, our parents or third parties make them for us, starting with them when giving us our name, our everyday calling card. They are the ones who decide for us in which school we will study; whether spiritual life is essential or not, our values are fundamental and they determine if they develop our talents. In other words, our parents are forming our personality and our life.

But little by little, we gain independence, and make our own choices, at first, without experience, regretting what we chose, but either way they give us knowledge. Some choices we make without thinking, and we regret them all our lives, and others which we put a lot of thinking into that we will forever value. A decision can vary in importance.

We often choose without thinking, getting carried away by our feelings, by our mood, because we don’t reason carefully, on a whim, out of trust, out of spite, and all of these changes the direction of our lives.

Young people face a number of challenges in becoming adults, such as values, studies, friends, work, and relationships. The decisions taken at this stage will affect the future.

Day by day, minute by minute, we are faced with making decisions. When we wake up, we decide if we get up immediately or stay longer in bed, then we decide what clothes we will wear. We choose what to eat for breakfast, and we go to work where there will be much other decision-making. In the evening, we decide where to go to have fun, we decide which friends which entails what kind of influence they will have in the construction or destruction of our lives. Like these, there are many other everyday decisions.

Often, we don’t take the time to ponder and think before acting. We don’t consider that poor decisions generate emotional imbalances and social disorder, which causes suffering.

When we make decisions, we must assume the consequences of these actions and learn from our mistakes.

It’s interesting to hear how couples who finally got married met, many of them meeting as a result of taking a decision they never thought would be so significant in their life. There are interesting stories like the one who went to a lunch that had no desire to go and there met her future husband, or that story in which a person was getting into a taxi through a door but decided to go in through the other side and when he turned, he met who would become his beloved partner.

In short, with many decisions to make, so much to think about and meditate to choose our paths, I feel like I am at a bazaar. When one goes to a bazaar, we first take what we are looking for, sometimes we analyze it and decide if it is going to be useful or not, or sometimes we just get carried away by what we see, and we make a bad decision.

I feel as if my life is constantly a bazaar full of decisions leading me to invisible strings that connect my path to the future.

This book is based on a real-life story. Our main character found himself in strange bazaars. Like everyone, his parents were very influential in his having a life with many incredible experiences seldom heard of in our lives.

The names used in this book are not real.

CHAPTER ONE

DECIDING WHICH BOOK TO READ

Roberto still felt that emptiness in him which he had felt throughout 36 years of his life, that emptiness that in his failed attempt to fill it, resulted in the place where he is at this time; the Maria’s Island prison.

He has tried everything in his short life, but he has never removed that despair that was dormant sometimes and other times not. As in those moments in that afternoon full of sunshine with a beautiful landscape, where wherever he turned his sight would find the blue sea in constant movement as if it were a reminder that he was alive, where fish swam in freedom, the freedom which he no longer possessed. These are places that many people enjoy with family; parents with their children playing with sand, feeling the caress of the sea sneaking up on their feet, feeling how they sink when the waves come back, watching the waves foaming up like bubbles, as if the sea was also happy to give us joy. He was feeling the same sun that all mankind receives regardless of who we are, what we do, what we think, and where we are.

There, surrounded by his fellow convicts and policemen who continually watched them, aware that this was happening because of the choices he made in his life.

Robert ignored the fact that this was the last evening that he would remain there. He had been living there for six years.

After having seen the ocean sitting on a cliff from above a rock with his feet dangling, feeling and tasting the salty air in his body and his palate, he stood up without knowing where to go. He then walked towards the library. He wasn’t used to going there, but his feet took him to that place. On entering he saw that the tables were empty, only the librarian was there. In reality, they didn’t have many books since very few people used them.

“Good afternoon, Roberto. Good to see you here. Want to read something special?” said the librarian, who was also a convict.

“No thanks, I just came to see.”

He went through the bookshelves and kept looking at them. He would take one, read it, flip through it, and leave it again. Some of them had dust, he blew it away to see the books and place them back again on the shelves.

While he was looking at the bookshelves, he was struck by one which was related to Mexico and he decided to take it. He sensed a smell from the book which reminded him of his childhood.

Browsing through this book, he saw Mexico’s vast breathtaking landscapes, savored the typical food from each state, enjoyed the traditional festivities of his country through the visuals, admired the exotic animals and flowers, and took in the fruits with their vibrant colors. What he valued the most was seeing people in the photos who seemed to glow with radiant happiness regardless of their social status. He saw the smile of a little girl as she hit a piñata with her eyes covered; she hit it with such power that her braids bounced in the air happily. And what to say about the smile of children in their age of innocence, and the elderly with those wrinkles that provoked endearment.

He began to immerse himself deeply inside the book. He wanted to feel all that he could have lived, but hadn’t appreciated.

As he was browsing through the book, he saw one page and read it with his heart so sensitive at that time:

I LIVE FEELING PROUDLY MEXICAN

When I wake up, I am full of energy, since, inside my being, I have indigenous blood of brave ancestors. I feel our blood is so intertwined, that they transmit their well-known force and wisdom.

While I am running in the mornings, I admire the great works of our Mexican landscapes as if I were in an art gallery, enjoying the beautiful weather that many countries wish to experience.

How delighted I am to listen to the birds’ great concert at dawn. I hear as if parents were scolding their children for not bearing good witness, I pay more attention to how they guide them with values that are more precious than all the yellow, white, green or black gold in our country. There is no lack for a mockingbird that proudly sings as it watches how all efforts have reaped and time that has been in making a good land for its children.

When I shake while running, I feel my blood begins to experience one of our alluring folk dances that are so applauded, one day it is the Mexican hat dance, or maybe at the pace of the Bamba trying to understand “what is that small thing I need after a little grace” as the song says.

On my way back, I enjoy seeing the giant Mexican flag waving, for some reason I see it as the most beautiful one of our planet. The amount of strength that I get from watching the eagle’s eyes full of adrenaline just like the ones that any mother has when someone threatens to hurt her children.

I come home to savor the good deal of fruits that we have, and what to say about our Mexican cuisine, full of contrasting and delicious flavors and colors. No wonder why we are among the top three places of the best international cuisine.

I savor my Mexican music spiced up with mariachi, whose hats are magical because when we wear them, we pride ourselves, as when we see the face excitement in foreigners as they return to their countries and wear them.

I dress with the beautiful clothes full of energy from the hands, eyes and the creativity of my fellow countrywoman spinners placed at every stitch that holds them together. No wonder we can see them featured on the international runways.

I do my chores with enthusiasm and honesty, capitalizing the gifts God has given me to fulfill my good purpose here on earth and, if rocks appear on the road, I take out my hammer and chisel to work on them with the skills of my brother craftsmen and thus form footprints that I shall leave here in my Mexico with a touch of example and admiration for my future generations.

How I enjoy my friends and loved ones, whose bodies release positive molecules which we entwine with the paths we have woven of brotherhood, courage, joy, support, thus decorating with seams the road of who we become.

I pray with sincere faith for my Mexico to overcome the adversities that may happen and, why not, I also pray for the people that hinder the progress of our country so that they may reconsider and realize that the best satisfaction that they themselves may feel is to guide all their anger toward a good attitude after having suffered an existential crisis. This is the most valuable legacy that we could leave, as my father did.

I go to bed at peace knowing that I have contributed my grain of sand, trying to do it at one of our fabulous beaches that I so much enjoy with my family to help my country grow.

And I go to sleep with a smile on my lips feeling proudly Mexican.

Roberto suddenly closed the book and wept bitterly thinking: How much damage have I caused. I haven’t valued my country. I’ve been one of the causes that made the eagle from my flag have that adrenaline in its eyes when I have attacked its son: Mexico. And worst of all… What for? I’m not happy, I’m still empty. I have had everything, but I have felt destitute. I have money that doesn’t fill me, that doesn’t satisfy neither the soul nor the self, which are the most precious aspects of our lives.

Why did I make these decisions? he asked himself with regret.

I only have one life and I didn’t make the most of it, he thought with remorse.

He leaned his back against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. He felt like dust, morally wasted.

I have done a great deal of damage; I’ve been one of the causes for obstructing progress in Mexico. And yes, actually there were times when I pondered and knew I was doing something wrong, but I never reconsidered. I got carried away by passion, those instincts we fight with day by day. I would like to go back in time and do other things. I would not be in this place. I might find myself on a beach in other circumstances, maybe enjoying it with my children, with a wife who understood, loved and supported me. The women I met were physically attractive, they would give themselves up easily, in those times I looked for them for my need to have company, I didn’t ponder that it wasn’t real love, it was just passion, I didn’t realize that they only came by because they were opportunists. It was that regard what caused them to be capable of doing anything as long as they would get money in return, their true desire. Now that I find myself in jail and with nothing… Do they even remember me? No, they must be with other people that give them the same things I gave them. I’ve made my life so empty. How was I able to waste it? This is the only life I will have, and for what? Until I now realize that the most valuable legacy in life is to leave an impactful footprint in others that lasts forever and not like the ones that have been left by those who have passed away and people remember them for the damage that they left behind.

And me, what can I do to fix my life? How will I remove all the damage I have caused? I know that my time is limited and that scares me and leads me to think, what will become of me? Where will life take me? How can I mend the wrongs I have done?

Roberto was desperate. He felt himself sinking into a bottomless pit, when suddenly, the door opened and he saw officer Candelario approaching him and said: “You have to appear before the director of the prison right now.”

DECIDING WHICH ROUTE TO TAKE

6:20 am. Beep, beep, beep, an alarm rings. The arm of a woman appears between the sheets, she reaches out to turn it off.

Marcia rises lazily from the bed; she heads like a sleepwalker to the bathroom. She turns the lights on and the first thing she sees is her image in the mirror. She approaches the mirror. She noticed that life was getting old in the body, each time the wrinkles around her eyes wanted to stand out more, in two more days she was turning half a century old, but she was not mortified by this. For her, wrinkles were a sign of pride as they meant experience, wisdom, maturity, respect that we have achieved throughout our lives.

She felt tenderness when seeing the wrinkles in people; they seemed to be forming angelical features. Only God knows how many trials they have been through.

Marcia was preparing herself, in fifteen days she was going to run a marathon that she deeply desired; this was a way to celebrate her 50 years of life.

She took her sports clothes and put them on; this was how she began enjoying her day. She grabbed her water bottle, her fruit, and her towel. She got into her car, and turned the lights on because it was still dark.

On her way she listened to the morning news.

Yesterday a group of hitmen was captured; they had with them 100 AK-47 rifles, 30 kg of cocaine…

Marcia could not realize how this kind of people could not understand all the damage they caused to society and themselves; she thought that they, for all they did, could not enjoy life; they believed that having great luxuries would satisfy them, but there comes a time when they don’t know what to do with so much money. They have mansions, cars, yachts, jewelry, women, even tigers as pets and, in spite of this, they don’t feel satisfied because they cannot live a normal life and they live with fear.

Making money in that way doesn’t provide inner peace, peace that is happiness and joy´s greatest source; instead, it brings more frustration, more suspicion, more anxiety, sometimes more jealousy and even mistrust.

When she arrived at Tangamanga Park, she enjoyed that place of 411 hectares of forest surrounded by lakes and tall and immense trees. She considered it as the lungs of the city of San Luis Potosi.

Marcia parked and met her fellow racers.

“Good morning,” said Marcia adjusting her jacket.

“Good morning,” the coach arrived. “Today we will have a light training, in 15 days we will run the San Luis Potosi marathon for which we have trained extensively. It will be light jogging; you can choose the route you want. If you want to go to the three fountains or where the plane is.”

They all started jogging as a group.

Marcia enjoyed those moments very much. She liked sports; she liked to feel the air caress her face and see such beautiful sunrises. She was impressed by the changing colors of the sky as the sun rose, seeing how the edges of the clouds suddenly became bright red, then went from orange to purple to pink, paling and turning white as if they were cotton candy floating in that characteristic deep blue. In October, she admired the most beautiful moons of the year. She enjoyed seeing how the colors of the leaves of the trees changed from black against the light to a green range as the first rays of the sun appeared, seeing how some flowers began to open their petals as if stretching after a relaxing sleep.

True art is only found in nature, she thought.

As she ran, she passed the Douglas DC 3 blue plane so well known in the park. She remembered when her father brought her as a child for vacations to San Luis Potosi; he would bring her to this aircraft and to watch the movies that they showed there. What a nice feeling the first time she went in, she thought it would actually lift up when they closed the door and began to roll the movies.

One Sunday, her father took her to see a film. When she stepped down the stairs of the plane, she took his hand and while they went away, she saw him turning his face back without letting go of her hand.

“Dad did this plane ever fly?” she asked.

“Of course, my dear, it used to be a great plane,” answered her father tenderly.

She looked at it and wondered… To what places did it fly? Who owned the plane? Whatever it is, to her it was a symbol of the park and she had truly enjoyed it.

She kept running as she passed the Douglas DC-3 with a smile on her face for such fond memories of her childhood that this place brought.

She could feel how her respiration became agitated, how the sweat streamed down her face. When she ended her tour, she started walking to stabilize her breath. When all the runners arrived and began to stretch, she approached the coach.

“Athletes, stretch very well; remember that it is very important after every workout to avoid further injury. We have finished our training. I remind you to start hydrating well, two or three days before, eat foods high in carbs and rest so that your body is ready for the marathon. Remember that the race is in two Sundays, and starts at 7 am. The goal will be the plane.” That was the last thing the coach told us, we finished stretching and we went to our jobs.

Marcia never expected that the next time she would be at that place, she would see that plane with new eyes and every question she had as a child would be answered. She would know its true story.

DECIDING WHICH RADIO CHANNEL TO LISTEN

“Balto! Balto! It’s time to leave. It’s already 8 pm.”

In the back of the yard rushes like a ghost, a brown and white spotted springel dog ran very happily. His long funny ears moving as if they too were happy, he knew he was to be taken out and enjoyed it very much.

It was a night where few stars were seen as they were outshined by a big moon; the climate was very pleasant, inviting her to go outside with him.

She opened the car´s door and her pet sat in his place.

She started the car, lowered the windows and Balto poked his face through the window and glowed with happiness. He was very jumpy with all the excitement with his tongue out.

Marcia always had the habit of turning the radio on while she drove.

“Let’s see if we find good music on the radio,” Marcia told Balto.

I’m unhappy because you are not here.

“Oh no, what is this?” she exclaimed and changed the channel.

There is another shootout and the hitmen fled…

“And the parents of these people? Where were they when they needed them?” she always asked herself. They were not born evil.

Being a parent is not an easy task, since their children are born, they have a great responsibility in their hands, they should be in constant communication with them, and be alert of who they get together with and what they do. Many young people who are in jail wished that their parents had guided them, even though they might have never understood the relevance of it at that time.

As a teacher, Marcia knew how a child changed when he received the attention from the parents, you could see from their expressions, their way of talking, of seeing things, of connecting with each other, even in their intellectual capacity.

Of course, there are children that are born with genetic hereditary disorders, but these children can also be guided with a little more effort and professional help.

Many parents don’t want to struggle and want teachers to take responsibility for their personal education, as well as for the spiritual one.

In every generation she saw that there was less space for morality. She knew that human values needed to be promoted, day and night, within families. In a similar way, we should also listen to our inner voice to try to preserve or increase the good part of human nature and the idea of sharing our love with one another.

Each family has the power to provide for good basic values, we just need to use reason and heart.

And also, why not instill sports in children? It is a good way to foster discipline. Now children are more undisciplined, as they no longer respect the elderly anymore.

She changed the channel again.

We offer great discounts in the section of…

“At this channel there are only ads,” she said. She pushed another button and heard:

Yes, I am to give testimony of my life…

This sentence caught Marcia´s attention. She arrived at her destination, she parked, she settled in her car seat outside of her children´s school while she listened. Balto, on the other hand, was waiting to see the students go out and to recognize his great friends.

It was a quiet night. Marcia forgot that her children had told her that they were going to get out of school later that day. But, instead of getting angry, she was happy as she enjoyed listening to this testimonial and never thought it would inspire her to write this very own book.

DECIDE WHAT SUBJECT TO STUDY

I lived my childhood in a northern state of Mexico. My family was well known due to my father´s success in work and because of my mother´s charity. They enrolled me in one of the most well recognized schools of the city. It was a school with the best technology in the country. I was 15 years old. In those days, computers were starting to be sold. We could choose, among other courses, computer science, which I took.

I enjoyed this course so much that I quickly learned it. I felt I had the skills for this. I never imagined how this decision would benefit me years later.

I got along well with my friends, many of us had something in common: that feeling of loneliness that was mirrored in the absence of parents.

My parents were very good to me, but there was no communication since they were often busy with all their obligations. It seemed as if they only had a few minutes to talk with me.

We lived in a very luxurious house with marble floors of different colors that formed elegant designs. In the main areas there were Moroccan rugs and decorations from all around the world. When entering the house one could smell that peculiar cedar aroma of the woodwork in every corner. It had a very big dining room which many times was used for those great parties that my parents organized. There was a swimming pool lined with mosaics of various blues which created mermaid drawings. This was my favorite spot because I enjoyed swimming and more so when I invited my friends and we spent many hours without noticing the time flying by. From this place I had the view to our huge garden where frequent barbecues were organized.

As I was an only child, they made my room enormous. I had a TV, all types of games that were trending at the time, musical instruments, rackets, balls for different sports, big closets where I kept so many clothes that I sometimes forgot about and when I would put them on, they didn’t fit anymore.

It seemed as if I had everything, but this didn’t give me happiness, I felt unsatisfied.

In the afternoons I enjoyed working on the computer that they gifted me for Christmas.

Always on this day when I would go downstairs to see the gifts that were under the tree. There I would find two piles; one where I would find my parent’s gift for me, usually everything I had asked for, and the other was a mountain of sophisticated and unique gift from a mysterious person.

Each year, this second group of gifts was a mystery since I didn´t know who sent them, it was a secret that my parents kept. Whenever I questioned them, they lowered their faces with such deep sadness that I decided never to ask again.

Each year I would ask myself: Who could that person be? Why do they send gifts to me? What do I mean to him or her? Where did they get these electronic toys that I didn’t know? Had I met them before? Why do they send gifts if I don’t know them? All these questions vanished as I enjoyed the gifts.

One Christmas, in that stack of mysterious gifts I found a computer. In those days, it was very difficult to get one of those special designs. It was a machine with a rarely seen technology.

I insisted with my parents, to the point where I demanded they tell me about this generous person and what was the reason for these special gifts. But as always, I didn’t get an answer, I got mad at them, yelled and even insulted them out of despair. I went to my room and felt more lonesome than ever. When I realized that my parents were hiding something from me, I didn’t feel the same trust that I had felt for them.

The distance between us grew larger. I wanted to spend more time with them, play, talk, study together, but they seldom could. But, now after what I have been through, I know why they hid the truth about those gifts, really, I would prefer not to have known.

DECIDING WHICH FRIEND TO CALL

When I arrived at my room crying because my parents didn’t want to answer the questions I asked every year, I threw myself into bed thinking that the door would open soon and my parents would go in to comfort me or tell me that secret. But it was not like that, they had other plans. I heard when Raymundo, the driver, started the car and both got in. They were in such a hurry that they didn’t even say goodbye. I had taken away some of their time with those questions…

I laid down face up. I looked at the phosphorescent stars and planets in the ceiling of my room. I felt like being with somebody, but all my friends were with their families or siblings and I had no one.

While I was thinking, I remembered that one day walking from school, Ramón, my mysterious classmate, came up to me, showed me a small package that he had in his sock, he told me it was something I would like to taste, that I would feel very good, it was going to relax me. He realized that I wanted to know more so he gave me his card, which I kept.

Desperate, I opened the drawers, moving and taking everything out to find it. I opened the closets to look for it somewhere, without success. I had to find it; I looked through the books, in the backpack, in the pockets of my jackets. I wanted to know what it was. I needed it.

After a long search, I found it. I held it in my hands and I had a bad feeling so I threw it away and phoned another friend with no success.

I went back to bed. I was desperate. I heard Christmas songs at a distance and the neighbors´ voices that gathered with their families, the laughter of the children, the barking of the dog that was playing.

I picked up one of the World History books that I so liked to distract me. But I couldn’t take it any longer, so I took the card. Without second thoughts, I took the phone and called that friend who was so strange to me. I dialed his number. I waited thinking I was not going to find him.

“Hello?” I heard a sleepy voice.

“Hello, Ramón.”

“Who is this?” he said with distrust.

“I´m Roberto, your classmate.”

“Oh, yes, yes. I remember you.”

“I thought that because of the date I was not going to find you,” I said.

“No, I’m here. I’m pleased to hear you, good thing that you called. I´m home alone.”

“I would like to talk to you,” I said with a somewhat desperate tone.

“Sure, that’s what friends are for. Do you want me to go to your home?”

“No, no, I better go to yours.” I wanted to go out; I didn’t want to stay there. I called the driver and told him where to head.

When we arrived, I saw that it was a house with a very high fence; the garden was dry and neglected; the trees looked sad, brownish in color. There were many leaves on the ground.

I pressed the bell. A black, big and fat Rottweiler dog rushed. With difficulty due to his weight, he rushed to the fence barking, he showed me his teeth showing his big fangs as if threatening me, leaning on the fence on his two feet, barking. In his thick neck, he had a black collar with metal spikes.

“Whisky, Whisky! Calm down!” Ramón yelled to the dog.

“I´m Roberto!” I yelled with fear, without getting near to the fence.

“Come in, come in!” he grabbed the dog by the leash and opened the door.

I stepped in with distrust and fear that it would let go, I went inside his house. Once inside Ramón let the dog free. Ramón turned to me and said, giving me a hug:

“Roberto, you don’t know how glad I am to see you and to know that you thought of me. Like I said before, I want you to know that you can count on me for whatever you want. Trust me,” he said as he put his arm around my shoulders and walked towards his room.

His house was empty, except for the dog. It was a dark house, the yellow curtains were closed, it had no decor, no pictures, no flowers. They only had the basics for living.

He took me to his room. It was large. There was only one undone bed, on top, wrinkled clothes, tossed books, open backpacks, an empty soda can. On the walls, there were posters of rock bands. He was listening to music that hurt my ears, not only because of the volume, but because it was not a melody, they were noises and screams and I couldn´t distinguish what they were saying, my head hurt after a while. He turned the volume down.

“Roberto, you don’t know how happy I am to see you,” he said with a strange expression.

“I came to visit you because one day you told me…”

“Yes,” Ramón interrupted me, answering with confidence, as if he knew why I was looking for him.

Did he know what I was going to tell him? I asked myself as I sat in his bed, moving some books to make room.

“Yes, Roberto, I remember that one day I told you that with me you were going to feel good because I have something that will make you happy,” he stretched his arm to get a key on the top of a door, his shirt rolled up and a tattoo of a skull showed on his lower back.

I felt scared. He pulled some joints out of a closet that had two locks. I had already started smoking behind my parents back, and yes, they gave me a momentary pleasure but would not give me the happiness that Ramón had said.

When he brought them closer, I saw them differently and the smell was a scent I had never smelt.

“No, Ramón. I’ve already smoked several times, don’t offer me joints.”

“No, this joint is different from those you have smoked before. Don´t be afraid. Just puff and you will feel as if you are floating. You will feel such a wellbeing that you will not want to quit,” he said with a desperate tone.

I don’t know why I suddenly felt afraid. I wanted to run away, but where to? Thinking that the dog that looked like Satan was waiting for me outside. I could not do anything but stay. I felt imprisoned; Ramón increasingly pressed me to smoke. I was very scared and didn’t know what to tell him to get out of that situation that made me so uncomfortable, so I said:

“Hey, if you say that they are so wonderful, how much do they cost? Because I don’t have any money and they must be very expensive.” I was wishing he would tell me to come back later.

“No man, don´t worry. This one I give to you for free. If you want more, I will sell them to you, but don´t be afraid: what matters is that you try them so that you can see for yourself that I am not lying,” he said, getting closer to me.

I took the joint, I put it on the tip of the lips of my mouth with fear. Ramón quickly lit a lighter as if in a hurry to do so. I took my first puff.

“Puff deeply and gently to make it more effective,” Ramón told me as if pleading. And I did. I began to feel that the room was transforming; as if I were and were not inside myself. I saw Ramón very far away, with a big smile on his face, as if he had caught a prey. He turned the volume of his music louder and put his hands in a position as if he was playing a real guitar. I could not think, just feel; as if I was somewhere else. I could not react to anything, I didn’t feel alone. I felt that someone was with me, but those people were not like us; they were people other than me. Although I knew they were strange, I was not afraid of them. Feeling that, I smoked once and again and again until the joint was finished.

I felt a reality that doesn’t exist.

After a while I went back to real life. Ramón was at my side; he still had the loud music on and, with great joy, he came up to me and said:

“I didn’t lie to you, did I? Whenever you want to feel the same, call me. Just remember that the first joint was free, the following will have a cost. Come my friend,” he hugged me. “You know you can count on me.”

When I arrived home, and went into my room I felt more lonesome than before. I felt the need to return to Ramón, but it was night and house help had the orders that I was not to go out after 10.

From then on, I was a great “friend” of Ramón. Every time I went with him he wouldn’t act as kindly as in the first days that I went to his house. In fact, there were days when I looked for him desperately and would not find him, even though at first, he was very aware of my calls. Now I had to wait for him a long time, since he was looking for new “friends’’.

How I wish that my parents had talked to me about drugs and the damage they cause. I squandered so much money with Ramón for just one of his joints. I started feeling like his prisoner.

DECIDING TO PLAY WITH THE BOTTLE

Days, weeks and months passed. Every day I felt the need to visit Ramón more urgently.

My grades started going down. Life seemed different. My interests were different. I always thought of myself as a great businessman, but now I don’t care.

My parents were not aware of what was happening to me as I didn’t see them much. What I was afraid of was that Raymundo, my driver, would notice that I was getting addicted to marijuana, but as I was becoming an expert on this, I knew how long to wait for him to pick me up so that he wouldn’t notice any difference in me.

Ramón kept the drugs in his socks. He would arrive at school, raise his pants, show us the package and grinned. I wonder if sometimes he pretended not to be in supply so that we would buy more knowing that perhaps it would take time to get it again.

The price increased each time, many times I didn’t have enough, I stole from my parents, I knew where they hid the money, I took small amounts so that they would not notice: I even once stole a ring from my mother that I thought she would never notice as she never wore it, but on becoming aware that it was gone, she fired the employee that helped us even though she had been many years with us. She had to support a whole family along with her handicapped father. I didn’t have the courage to explain to my mother that I had stolen the ring.

I didn’t hang out with my former classmates, now my “friends” were all dependent on marijuana as I was, and we often got together to get high.

Once we got together because Ramón was going to give us a sample of another drug that was better than marijuana.

“We must change to another that is stronger, not to always feel the same thing,” he said.

We met at his place. Whiskey already knew us well. On that occasion, we were six friends gathered in his room.

“Ta daaaaaa! I’ll show you my new acquisition; I know that you will enjoy it,” Ramón said showing a small bag that he had in his raised hand.

For a moment, I felt fear on seeing his smile. I could leave but if I did my “friends” would hate me, they would make fun of me, and so I decided to stay. Also, I was very curious.

Ramón showed us the small plastic wrap that he began to unfold, we were all absorbed to see what it contained, and when he finished, we saw some plastic bags with a white powder.

“What is this?” Fernando said. “Do you also smoke this?”

“Ha, ha, ha, ha,” Ramón laughed. “How little do you know about these things! I am at the forefront of this for you to feel “good.” This amount is more than enough for everyone.

“For all?” asked Juan. “On one hand that’s good, because that way we will use less and it will be cheaper, I don’t know where to get money anymore, I have sold much of my stuff; or rather I almost give them away for free in exchange for receiving something for them.”

“Well, you do use a small amount,” Ramón said, “but it’s of such good quality that the price goes up.”

“How? More expensive? I can’t pay more. One day I took the wallet of my uncle, who I like very much, to get money,” said Álvaro.

“Well, when you try this, it will be worthwhile to get money from wherever you can, many artists, whether singers, painters, writers, actors, among others, use it to work.”

“Ah, so it is not harmful, because with the marijuana I can’t study in the same way,” Fernando said, excited.

“Do not ask if it is harmful: look at the joy and pleasure that you will receive.”

We were all caught up in what he was saying. We had great curiosity mixed with fear.

If I don’t like what I am going to try I will continue with marijuana, I thought, not knowing that this was a highly addictive substance, from the beginning.

“Hey, but how are we going to smoke it?” Gerardo asked.

“Smoke? No man, that is a thing of the past. This is inhaled.”

“Is it inhaled? But how are we to inhale that powder?”

“Don´t worry; I´ll explain step by step. Who wants to go first?”

“We stared at each other, no one dared to be first.”

“Don´t be afraid, nothing will happen. What we will do is sit in a circle, put a bottle in the middle, I will spin it and where the tip stops, will be who gets high.”

We agreed. We sat on the floor. We looked at each other with fear. Ramón spun the bottle. We saw how it was coming to a stop. When it did, the tip was pointing at me.

Everybody laughed pointing at me with their fingers. I felt a great fear.

Ramón came with a piece of glass, put some of that white powder on it and scattered it with a knife so that it would be more pulverized. He passed it to me.

“Look, cover one nostril and inhale,” Ramón said, smiling.

I felt everyone’s eyes on me; I did what Ramón said, representing courage but was so afraid that it made my human senses become more acute.

When I inhaled, I started feeling as if floating without any support, I moved freely, lightly, a feeling of weightlessness as in the pool, but here I could breathe. I could hear the voices of others at a distance who said: What do you feel? What do you feel?

My senses began to change functions. I watched through the window as the sap from the leaves was circulating like the blood in our veins, I heard the butterflies and flowers sing. I smelt the colors, heard the aromas, I had no notion of time.

When I started to return to real life, I felt I was descending softly from the heights as a feather. I started until I began to feel as if an earthquake had happened without my realizing it, it was already dark, and none of my friends were there, not even Ramón. I felt pain in the nostril where I had inhaled, I was very thirsty because my throat was very dry, but what I felt most was a great anxiety, anxiety that I had never felt before.

Shortly Ramón arrived. I aggressively asked him why he had left me alone.

“You were not alone; I was receiving the goods. How was your experience, amazing, was it not?”

I didn’t answer, I only asked for his phone so that Raymundo could pick me up.

When I got home, I felt a weird person, a stranger in my own home, I had no appetite, felt no need to sleep, I could not remember exactly what had happened, I felt pain in my legs, when I took off my pants, I was impressed by what I saw.

The next day I woke up angry, I felt great anger with many people, a feeling I never had before, I wanted to fight, to argue, to offend. I could not control myself; I only noticed that the house employees looked at me with fear.

When I saw my friends that were with me when I did my first inhalation, I turned to them accusing them of leaving me.

“You are cowards!” I yelled with anger.

“No, Roberto, we didn’t leave, Ramón told us to leave.”

“He told you to leave?”

“Yes, you started to scream asking us to remove the spiders that you had in your legs; you took a knife and, at that point, Ramón asked us to leave the room.”

When they said this, I knew why I had so many injuries in my legs.

That day Ramón didn’t go to school, I think he was trying to avoid any confrontation.

From the day I had that experience, my life changed, it seemed different, I suffered from depression and suicidal thoughts, I had a new feeling within me. My mind said that I should not continue getting high, but my body asked me to continue, at one point it asked for it at whatever cost.

Nothing about this feeling can be compared to the beauty of real life, to love and be loved. When I started on this, instead of making things better, I worsened them.

I was drastically destroying my only life; this I compare to when I see that we are violently destroying our only planet. I was poisoning myself as we are doing with our world.

What a big mistake I made that day. I began to dig my own hole where I fell into emptiness; I felt I was flying ignoring that I was flying toward death. I never thought that deciding to play that game and to experience that curiosity would ruin my life.

DECIDING TO LISTEN TO THE CONVERSATION

One evening on my way to the pool with my bathing suit and towel over my shoulder, I heard my father on the phone, as he always did in the short time, he was home.

On walking through the studio, I noticed that my father talked in an unusual way, he was more upset than I had ever heard him. I thought it was very strange so I decided to get closer and listen. I went to the door which was slightly open.

My father was agitated. I peeped furtively and saw my mother sitting in a chair beside him, looking desperate.

“No, Nemesio, I can’t say that to Roberto. It is not wise that you call me… Yes, I know about your situation… Forgive me, but I cannot do what you are asking… We accepted the commitment as long as you respected what we agreed.”

My mother looked very nervous and desperate and was telling my father: “Tell him to respect us. Fifteen years have gone by and why does he want to break up what we agreed? Why now, that so many years have passed?”

My father, in desperation, shouted: “Do not call me again! I try to understand you, but you must also understand us. You better not leave Tancuayalab. don’t ever come. Moreover, Roberto ignores he has a grandfather.”

When I heard this, I was stunned.

My father hung up the phone. He was furious; I had never seen him like this. He hugged my mother, who was sobbing.

“Don’t worry, Nemesio is not coming. Calm down, calm down.” But my father’s face didn’t have a peaceful look.

I continued my way through the marble floor of the hallway with the walls lined with wood paneling that led me to the pool. Appalled by what I had heard, I threw the towel on the floor and immediately dived into the pool feeling the water on my body. How I enjoyed being in contact with water, I loved immersing myself, closing my eyes and feeling the pressure of liquid all over my body as if I were being embraced, the feeling of weightlessness when floating, when I moved my head, I felt as if the hair was caressing my head, when I was swinging, I felt as if I was being massaged, but I could not always remain in the bottom, when I needed air, I would leave my shelter to quickly grasp air and dip again.

In that moment, all that I had heard in that conversation came to my mind.

Who is Nemesio? My grandfather? I asked myself. But I don’t have grandparents. They had never spoken about him, Tancuayalab? Where is that place? Why didn’t they ever tell me about it?

When I came up out of the water for air, I saw my parents. They were at the pool, in the back of the arcade surrounding it. They were watching me. My father had his arm around my mother, my mother was leaning her head on my father’s chest with their hands together. They both had a sad expression. They asked me to step out.

I stepped out of my shelter by the stairs slowly feeling the air on my body. I took the towel and covered myself and approached them. My eyes were red; not knowing if it was the chlorine in the water or tears.

My parents hugged me, not caring if they got wet with my body; my mother was crying.

They told me they loved me. They acknowledged that the time had passed by, that I had grown and that they were sorry for not having been with me.

We hugged. It was a hug I had never felt before and as we did, they told me: We won´t leave you alone again for such a long time.

Around us were the steam and moisture coming out of the pool as if they were nestling us.

Hopefully not too late, I thought.

It was a very happy time for all three, but we ignored what was going to happen to us.

DECIDING WHO TO HELP