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"Since I have a little time left, I think it's the moment of the last lesson, and it's one I've learned in the last few weeks.”
"Okay, but hurry it up. The security guys are here.”
"The last lesson is that the more you try not to love, Morgan, more people put their lives on your path for you to love.”
"Well, I'll take it as the best compliment I can get out of your mouth."
"Dear Saul, it has been a real pleasure to talk to you.”
"The pleasure has been all mine.”
Monday, November 13, 2006
It is curious how the simple touch of the soft skin of a pregnant woman can give value to a whole life. Rafael made this reflection as he slid his hand down his daughter's belly. He dared not do more than just touch it. He was touched by the prospect of living with his second grandson.
Verónica looked up and met his eyes. Damn! He almost couldn’t remember how beautiful they were. Had his daughter forgiven him? The future mother leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. Rafael did not want Verónica to see him crying with emotion, so he rubbed his eyes to hide his emotions.
When he opened them again, everything had vanished as if by magic. A very pure white color invaded his field of vision, and intense light struck him intermittently in his eyes. The next thing he noticed was that everything moved around him, even though his legs were immobile. His whole body was without movement. He suffered a sudden bump and nearly vomited. Verónica... Where was she?
The universe stopped again, and now the blinding light no longer blinked, but remained motionless in front of his pupils, indignant with him. Offended, he had to look sideways, and discovered an open door with a particularity: it was horizontal. It was then that he knew that he was lying on his back. A stretcher? He couldn’t move because, he found, he was tied around his legs and hands by straps. And yet he felt such a comforting peace that was gradually invading him.
His world moved again, only that it was no longer the world, but the stretcher to which he had been tied. Where were they taking him? He tried to speak, but the words did not come out. It was obvious that they were punishing him for something. Had they gotten that drug on Félix? They couldn’t do that! After all, he had always acted for the good of the creature. In addition, he was a much better qualified physician than all the payroll babes who cared for the sick. What did they know? He remembered seeing several nurses take Félix to the ward. The poor chimpanzee had his arm dangling, and blood dripped from his upper arm. On second thought, it was possible that he had crossed the line. Maybe he deserved a little punishment; maybe a symbolic hard ear pulls.
He continued to go through radiant, endless corridors when he came across Saul. His petite African-American friend raised his thumb as the stretcher passed him and winked at him, accompanying a singular smile that seemed to say, everything is going to be all right.
Saul Morgan disappeared from his field of vision as he had appeared, and then the stretcher stopped again. A metal door slid behind his feet. He was not going to move any more.
An exasperating pain ran through her body. Diana gritted her teeth as she brought her hand to the back of her neck, where an important bump had grown. She winced and fell to the floor. She had lost her balance, not because of the pain, which in itself was already high, but the floor was slippery without warning. What happened to me? Where the hell am I?
She was remembering little by little. The policeman’s visit, the arrest, and then-an indescribable emptiness. She had a vague sense of being abducted rather than arrested. She tried to mentally draw the face of her captor, but it was impossible. Her head hurt too much.
She looked around. Almost everything was half-dark and smelled musty. She stood up despite the pain at the nape of her neck that accompanied her every movement, and began to feel the walls. She was enclosed in a small place, maybe in a storage room, as it lacked windows. The wall was old wood, though from time to time Diana touched metal surfaces, always halfway up.
She had to get out of there, that was clear. There was a door, but it was iron, and it was locked. If only I could break the lock. She searched around for a sharp object, and... thank God! In a corner of the room she found an object about five kilos in weight with a long edge and a wooden handle. A small ax? It would certainly work.
She went to the door and began to hit at the lock with a movement that ran from top to bottom. First, onslaught... and nothing. A second attempt a little louder... and the door remained intact. She tried another blow a third time, lucky, this time swinging the ax. Diana struck a blow so brutal that the ax bounced off the metal plate and hit the ground. The edge of the weapon had created a crack in the wood and... what happens now? A stream of water began to surge through the splinters, creating a puddle. Now Diana understood why the floor had slipped before: she was inside a ship. And it had begun to sink. She didn’t have much time.
The existence of Rafael Salas had been a roller coaster. It had been governed by very extreme principles in which, you were with him, or you were against him. He had enjoyed living on the edge, always on a tightrope, and personally and professionally, that had taken its toll. He was not a violent man, at least of action, and despite having broken the professional code on a couple of occasions and having turned his marriage into a nightmare, he was going to be remembered by most as an out of the ordinary human being. Above all else, his son-in-law Alfonso, had admired him. As for his daughter Verónica, and Sara, although they had betrayed him by filing a complaint against him, he knew that at heart they loved him. And Oli, dammit... it had been a real pleasure to belong to this world just to feel the warm love of his little grandson.
He was beginning to lose track of time by the time he received a pleasant surprise: Oli had just approached the table and had stared at him with an annoyed expression. He apparently did not understand what was happening. And neither did he. He no longer knew what day it was or how long he had been lying on that table with wheels and shackles. When was the last time he had faced those blue eyes? He couldn’t remember. He felt comforted when he heard his voice.
“Hello, Grandpa.”
Rapid words came to Rafael, as if they were speaking from another room. He was certain that it was his grandson who spoke, because he saw his lips move. He wanted to answer, to engage in a new intelligent conversation with him, but he couldn’t. He just watched. Oli had grown his hair, and it seemed that his mother had dressed him again in that horrible pink shirt. On him, he had a pendant attached to his neck with a curious shape: it was a metallic cylinder that the passage of time had covered with rust. For some reason Salas knew that Oli was sad.
“Thank you for helping me with Mom and Dad, Grandpa. Yes we did it."
Was Oli talking between sobs? Everything was getting so depressing.
"I love you, Grandpa."
Rafael Salas thought he lost consciousness, and when he awoke again, he was alone. In the next room someone was having a conversation. He distinguished two voices, one of a man and one of a woman. And a constant cry in the background. The man's torn voice was unmistakable: the stretched-out Rodolfo Grau. The woman's voice was that of his daughter Verónica, there was no doubt either. He guessed that Oli was crying.
“No alternative. This is necessary,” said the male voice.
"But how bad is he?"
“When he entered the center he had mild symptoms of neurosis, probably due to all the stress he had suffered in recent months. He was still a brilliant doctor, and even managed to beat me in a verbal duel. For you to understand me, he didn’t miss a beat.” Rafael seemed to be a thousand years old as he listened to the director's bleak revelation from the stretcher. “But the old Doctor Salas, still believed he was a legend. He didn’t understand why he was here or the gravity of his acts abroad. So we had no choice but to perform the psychological tests. We had to use sneaky tricks so he wouldn’t suspect, and we even provided him with a medical coat so he could continue to believe his own lie.”
“And then? What changed?”
"He met Félix. And then, Saul. Félix is the most seriously ill patient we have, and Rafael became obsessed with him. He came to steal drugs (or what he thought was medicine), he snuck into his cell, and pricked him with a syringe. What was a remedy to him turned out to be a bestial attack. I don’t know what would have happened if our nurses wouldn’t have arrived on time.”
"And what did he inject him with?"
“Serum. Simple serum. Imagine instead of giving him that, what if he had given him something stronger! Félix would be in a body bag right now.”
Salas looked from his stretcher as if they were talking about someone else. He listened as his daughter burst into tears. It was a lament of grief and remorse.
"And who is Saul?"
"Saul Morgan. He is absolutely no one.”
A silence.
"You mean to me that...”
“Nonexistent. Saul Morgan is not a doctor in this center because he is not directly a real person.” Salas thought he would die hearing this. “He was a product invented by your father's imagination, perhaps to have someone to talk to. He was a friend to talk about his sins, someone with whom to vent. Saul was proof that Rafael Salas suffered from acute schizophrenia.”
The voices weakened until they ceased to be perceived. Everything slowed around him, became blurry, and finally, black.