— Se dañó la nevera.
— ¡Coño de la…
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or days Ivone had been trying to improve her schedule and go to bed early to sleep better, but it was after 9 p.m. that the internet service started to be somewhat stable, and those night hours were essential to work. Besides, the next day was Isabel's birthday, and she thought it was nice to wait until midnight and be among the first to wish her a happy birthday.
Her friend had long been suffering from anxiety and depression, and Ivone would have loved to have money to ask her out and do something fun on her birthday, but she was in one of her worst economic times, and her income was barely enough to eat.
At 12 o'clock she sent her an effusive audio via Whatsapp, wishing her a lovely day and a long, prosperous and happy life, and, without waiting for a reply, she set an alarm for 7 o'clock in order to leave early to the market and went to bed.
It was always a little difficult for her to fall asleep. Without wanting to, she would entertain herself by imagining alternative realities, going over pending work matters, or judging the words she had used in some conversation of the day, always coming to the conclusion that perhaps she had not made herself clear and had unintentionally offended someone.
Just as her consciousness was beginning to fade amidst disjointed images, the tranquility of the night was suddenly broken by a series of gunshots.
Ivone reflexively opened her eyes, though not frightened at all, but rather annoyed. She hadn't heard any night shootings since the raid to catch
the Koki, and she had grown accustomed to the silent nights. But it was no wonder they were back, it was a total fantasy to think that the useless Venezuelan police system had been able to eradicate crime.
She grumbled grumpily, yanked the sheet off and walked through the gloom to her desk. She didn't want to turn on the lights for fear that they would jolt what little drowsiness she had managed to muster. She turned on the computer, opened YouTube, and played an 8-hour video consisting of rain and instrumental music. That was supposed to overlap the bullet concert at least enough for his brain to ignore it and go back to sleep.
And so it did. She began to dream of her childhood home, and her dad was alive, and they talked in the kitchen. They laughed and made lunch together. She often dreamed of her dad, but this dream was different. In all the previous ones they had fought, or it ended up being a nightmare in some way. Although maybe this one would have ended up being one too, if it had had the chance, because it was interrupted when the computer and the fan suddenly turned off, leaving the room in an unusual and eerie silence that extended beyond its walls.
Great, Ivone thought sarcastically from her pillow, taking a deep breath. At least the shots had been hushed, and the blackout had also annihilated the vibrations from the bass of the reggaeton that had been playing in the distance since 8 p.m.
The fan made an attempt to turn on and then went out again, and that made Ivone jump out of bed, as if struck by lightning. She fumbled with her desk until she located the cell phone, switched on the built-in flashlight and hurriedly walked around the room unplugging all the appliances: the computer, the fan, the phone charger and the old radio.
Guided by the beam of light, she cautiously opened the door and repeated the operation in the other two rooms of the small house: she unplugged the washing machine, the refrigerator, the microwave, the television and the fan in the living room, where her mother slept. She stared at her for a moment before returning to her room, with a mixture of tenderness and envy for her ability to continue sleeping undisturbed.
After a yawn, she snuggled back into her bed, but tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep.
The drowsiness had not gone, but now she was uncomfortable. The absolute silence created a kind of high-pitched ringing in her ears that tortured her, and, to top it off, it was getting very hot. Since her room had no windows, as more minutes went by without electricity it gradually turned into a volcanic cave.
She took off the sheet and it wasn't enough. She undressed almost completely, and only then did she fall asleep again.
She began to dream that she was walking through the clothing market in La Hoyada. There were a lot of people and some guys were looking at her in a threatening way. She took her cell phone out of her pocket and hid it in her bra. She tried to push her way through the crowd to get out, but she kept pushing and pushing and the crowd wouldn't move. Someone pinched her in the belly and she woke up.
Zooom, zooom...
That wasn't exactly the sound Ivone was hoping for to replace the silence. While she was suffering from the blackout, the damned mosquitoes in her room were partying.
She scratched at her shoulder, her thigh, and of course her belly. She got out of bed again, put all her clothes back on, and scratched at her belly once more.
Fuck Maduro.
Defeated, she plopped down in her desk chair and checked her mobile notifications. Isabel had texted her back in high spirits, inviting her to come over to her house in the afternoon, to sing happy birthday together and eat cake. She decided not to answer yet. It was 4 in the morning, she hadn't been able to rest at all, she had to get up at 7 and she still didn't know if she would get any sleep out of those 3 pitiful hours she had left.
She felt discouraged and pessimistic. Everything pointed to her having a shitty day. Most likely, when she returned from the market, she would prefer to sleep all afternoon... if the electricity had already been restored, of course. Otherwise she might shoot herself, or throw herself into the subway rails.
Just kidding. Just kidding. Ivone had no intention of committing suicide, much less now that she had her mom living with her, but it relaxed her to think about it in a sarcastic way in moments of tension.
My mommy! Suddenly her light bulb went on (metaphorically speaking, unfortunately) and to match, she turned on the flashlight as well. She picked up her pillow, opened the door, and walked almost on her tiptoes to the living room mattress.
Leaning forward in slow motion, with the subtlety of a cat, she made herself some space on the narrow mattress, placed her pillow and curled up next to the old lady, hugging her. At least a light cool breeze was blowing through the only window of the living room, and her mother's rhythmic breathing interrupted the tedious whistling of silence.
When the alarm sounded at 7 o'clock Ivone turned it off in a violent and automatic reflex, almost with hatred, and turned over, covering her head with the sheet. At which point she reasoned that she had not tucked herself in when she went to bed, remembered that she was in the living room, and noticed that the fan was on. Besides, she was alone. Her mom must have gotten up much earlier, and noticing that the power was back on, had taken the trouble to turn on the fan and tuck her in.
Since her mother had come to live with her, her days were much more pleasant; the old lady treated her with tenderness, just like when Ivone was a child. She listened to her problems, gave her advice and cooked her something different every day, even though they always had the same humble ingredients. The least she could do to thank her was to put pep in her step, so she inhaled deeply to fix her mind on the positive and was rewarded with an enticing coffee aroma.
Ten minutes later Ivone appeared neatly groomed, well dressed and smiling at the entrance to the kitchen.
"Good morning, Mommy! Bless me?" she greeted her with a hug that the lady could not return because she had both hands busy in a dough of arepas.
"God bless you darling, good morning". She replied, kissing her forehead.
Ivone poured herself a cup of coffee, and while she was sipping it, she looked for pencil and paper to make a grocery checklist. Despite everything that had happened she felt good, she had energy, and the weather was cool. It could be a good day after all. If she kept a positive mind she would have the will to hold off sleep, do all the pending errands and also go to Isabel's birthday.
"Oh sweetie, there's something I must tell you!"
"Didn't I let you sleep last night?" Ivone joked as she added more sugar to the steaming cup.
Her mom let out a sigh before saying:
Un relato de elementos realistas muy bien presentados (narrativa y descriptivamente), lo que lo hace una crónica de estos duros tiempos que nos han tocado vivir. Reúnes, con atinado sentido irónico, los aspectos que componen nuestras vidas entre las carencias y daños, pero también con esa visión del afecto que nos resguarda. Gracias y saludos, @nioberojas.
Hola José! ¡Muchísimas gracias por tan detallada y sentida respuesta!
En efecto, aun con las penurias que pasamos en Venezuela, a la gran mayoría nos caracteriza una gran sentido de la fraternidad y arraigados valores familiares, los cuales, en lugar de diluirse, se hacen más fuertes ante las dificultades!
¡Te agradezco por tu valioso apoyo a mi contenido, siempre con palabras tan motivadoras! ¡Un gran abrazo!
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Y el micro, y el ventilador, y tres aires, y ... y ... Se daño mi paciencia tambien :D
Jajajaj ay Jesús, ya veo que has pasado por lo mismo! Así es, a uno se le va agotando la paciencia ¡y la plata, en acomodar tantas cosas! Y tanto esfuerzo que hace falta para comprarse un aparato eléctrico aquí... Una locura todo.
Si sigues aquí en Venezuela aprovecho para decirte: ¡Resiste! ¡Siempre se consigue una mano amiga para ir resolviendo! Esa es la parte buena. Yo también te tiendo la mano, vivo en Caracas 🤗 ¡Un gran Abrazo!
Un gran abrazo, entendido <3 hay que ser resilientes niobe, un saludo desde Maracaibo :D y un gran abrazo, que acá se va la luz dos veces al día en bajones de 15-30 mins y Dios ampare a esas neveras y los aires. Que buenisima vibra transmites :D
Enhorabuena. Has recibido apoyo The Creative Coin Fund.
Manual selection by @jesuspsoto.
Graciaaaaas!! En efecto, no es fácil, no es lo mismo contar una anécdota que escribir un relato. Muchas gracias por este excelente comentario y por su valioso apoyo!
Mi querido @jesuspsoto , como siempre un abrazote para ti! Me emociona saber que estés impulsando proyectos tan importantes para la motivación de los autores en la comunidad.