Three Messages and a Warning (22 page)

They glided through the dense skies. They had the face of freedom drawn on their extremities, which they flapped gracefully. Below, the waves repeated themselves while the salty smell rose, striking their noses. The horizon was visible in the distance, bathed in dark blue. Everything seemed possible and within reach: until one of them, tired from having covered hundreds of kilometers, fell. The lack of food and constant exercise abated him. The animal sank into the water, and with him he took the courage to reach the unknown. They had to halt the journey and ask themselves if the enterprise was not overwhelming. Some thought of returning. But with such distance and without land in sight, it was difficult to know where the nearest shore was. Nor could they be sure that there would be something on the other side, a virgin paradise with solid ground. The arguments and screams started. Part of the group turned around, after having scratched and bitten those whom they had earlier made love to at the beach. The majority of them continued the journey, propping each other up, pushing each other on, relieving the pain with hopeful screams. They knew that they could not trust the sea, that their wings were their only guarantee for survival. Nonetheless, they recognized they had reached a limit and as they progressed, they had to move away from each other, make room and abandon their support for one another. The debacle became clear as they started to lunge at and devour the bats plummeting to the ocean. They could do nothing else. The atmosphere had become so strained that the feeling union and belonging had fragmented into personal battles, setting the scene for their burial or their redemption.

The flock was reduced to half and then to a quarter. The flight had turned into a pilgrimage towards insanity. The species born to rule over the world discovered its true dimension and a power limited by a reality that had lost its meaning, blurred by incomprehensible energies not governed by mortality. The bats surrendered themselves to the unknown and their ignorance, to continue their journey. They did not know if the ocean was above and the sky below or if they were really advancing. The movement of their wings was the only constant in the distorted night.

At one point, in their last glimmer of consciousness, they thought they were dead, a contradictory notion, that kept them alive. They had seized the idea to such an extent that when they reached the shore, they did not recognize the end of their heroic deed. They had to crash against the sand, the palm trees and the cliffs to return to their normal state of mind. Their recovered vision revealed a natural richness even more marvelous than the one they had already known. With the little energy they had left, they dedicated themselves to satisfying those desires they weren’t able to quench during their odyssey, including sleep and motionlessness. Their impetus made them forget quickly what they had lived over the waves and to feel once again the necessity to dominate paradise, to gain territory for their glorious species. This instinct was championed by a surprising event that drove a different course on the static planet: the females generated life. They gave birth among the eternal shadows. All around the females were crying younglings, they consoled them by breastfeeding and offering them the flesh of the inexhaustible surface. The new found continent was conquered from east to west, by the frenzy of the chosen and their fledglings, they squashed grapes to observe the trickling of the juice, hung on branches to see if they could stand their weight. Their advance was slow, constant and without obstruction.

Until they returned to the sea, once again.

This time, the bats did not lie down on the sand to make love, nor did they think about the limit of their power. They decided to return. Five of them stayed behind staring at the horizon, listening to the breaking of the waves. There had to be something on the other side of the waters. An answer that gave meaning to their impulsive movement, to their necessity to possess whatever stood in front of them. The five of them took flight and went deep into the ocean, into the proven lunacy of the eternal journey. On this crossing, only one was able to reach the other shore. He touched solid ground and as tribute, he pulled a fruit from a shrub; he ate one half and made an offering to the sea with the other. He then retook his flight to the east. On his voyage he discovered that the lands were not virginal, that they were populated by his fellow brethren. The bats that had abandoned them on the first crossing had succeeded in returning to the earliest continent and recovering it. He also discovered that they had the same gift of giving life, and that their offspring followed by their side, persuing the desires of their parents.

The bat continued on his way trying to find something else other than instinctive depredation. He knew he was getting closer, that soon he would find a reason that would explain why he could not stop his peregrination. Then he recognized a figure. Before him stood the tree that engendered life. He had reached the beginning of everything. He descended and caressed its trunk, looking for a sign, anything that would give meaning to his existence. At that moment he felt dizzy, then a powerful shiver, stronger than flight, than the ability to reproduce, than the ocean’s currents. The world trembled. Half-walking, half flying he climbed the hill from which the stone had broken off. At the top, he saw the valley of his beginning, extending in a single plane towards the east. On the horizon, he was able to see what was happening, something terrible: a red line, followed by a glowing blue, gave way to an enormous yellow sphere rolling towards him, setting fire with its flame of life the sleeping species it touched as it smashed its way through. The animals of creation finally inhaled air and exhaled in screams, screams that traveled the earth.

The bat could watch no longer. His eyes burned in the intense light. He was becoming blind. He had to turn around and flee. But the heavenly star king insisted on following him, in devouring his domain of darkness. In his escape he found others of his kind that did not know what to do and who, in the confusion, left everything behind including their children and their partners. He saw them through shadows, witnessed the collapse of his kingdom. Desperate, he flew to the ground and took two abandoned little ones. With them he made his way towards a cave he discovered at the western end of the cliff. He went inside looking for the escaping blackness. As a final act, he covered the younglings with his wings and waited. When he felt safe, he uncovered them. They did not understand and stared at him imploring an explanation. The bat did not know what to tell them.

Perhaps you’ll be surprised when I tell you that my lifestyle is about the same as when you lived here. Luis has changed so dramatically that now it’s most likely that you will no longer recognize him. Or perhaps you will recognize too much in him. I expect that this one proof will be sufficient for you to understand what I mean. Remember the Jimmy Hendrix record I bought for you when you turned twenty-one? Yes, that collector’s edition with the cover with all the naked girls on it that you couldn’t find anywhere. Despite your repeatedly insisting that he was the best strummer in the world, he never pleased me much, and every time you invited me to listen to him I preferred to invent just about any excuse and go home. Now, however, I really like him. But don’t think I suddenly realized my lack of good taste; rather it’s that I feel I have an in-depth knowledge of the record. What’s more, the first time I played it alone I could specify without any difficulty which tone followed another, the order and combinations of musical instruments, and each part of the harmonies without any difficulty.

It seems to me, nonetheless, that I am not complying with the purpose of this message, because although I have talked to you about some of the things that are happening here, there are others that I am not completely sure of and I prefer to confirm my suspicions before sharing them with you. I hope you don’t mind . . .

2

Samuel:

At the rate I am going I am quite afraid that I will not finish this second letter, either. Do you want reasons? I don’t want to know them completely. Do you want apologies? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry (as many as are required to constitute one thousand, fill them in yourself). Seriously, if your girlfriends from the club get here on time, as we agreed for today’s party, it’s most likely that I will not finish it: and, obviously, I won’t send it to you in that case.

You know what? In the beginning I couldn’t understand how you got along without mirrors, because other than the one that covers the dining room from one end to the other, there is no other mirror in the whole house, and you coming downstairs at midday half-asleep, running the risk of slipping, didn’t seem reasonable to me. My stubby beard, the “prickly pear cactus,” as you used to call it, is bushy now, and it has become clear to me why you always wore a heavy beard. Still, the lack of mirrors continues to puzzle me (I think I may have even mentioned it to you in my previous letter), and I have formulated various hypotheses, none convincing me completely.

Chewed up as if by a rat by idiotic conjectures that led me nowhere, I resolved to catch the subject by the tail, stick it in an empty jar, and throw it in the trash.

The answer came later of its own accord. It was sufficient to carry on a busy night life (followed by dreadful mornings) to understand it. No one likes to look at himself at such an early hour in such a depressing state. It’s for this reason that I also avoid the only mirrors in the house now, at least right after waking. My entire manner of dressing has changed as a result, and I take greater care to be presentable. What’s good about it is that the girls from the company have taken notice and they even flirt with me. I’m not joking. It was about time they should recognize me as someone other than just Samuel’s friend.

I keep the house in the same condition as you had it before you went away. The maid keeps coming once a week, as when you were here. As you can see, your departure hasn’t changed the routine around here.

But there is something I should ask your forgiveness for. Remember my weak and puny body? Well, I have put on a few pounds, so your clothes fit me perfectly, including your sporting attire. So I have taken the tennis rackets and made use of your membership in the country club. After all, don’t you agree that it’s best that someone takes advantage of it? Don’t jump to conclusions. It was not an easy choice for me. The first time that I dared to go to the club I was nervous, afraid that at any moment they would discover me. Nothing happened, however.

I imagine that despite the cold and the nuisance of the advanced courses you are taking, you must be having a great time. Has your enviable tan faded yet? They say that there are heated pools there and an artificial beach that is illuminated at night. Do you go to those places? I’ve got a nice tan now. It’s just about as good as yours, thanks to your club membership and your condo in Cuernavaca.

Are you enjoying yourself over there? Why even question it! Knowing you, it’s a sure bet. And that’s another reason why you absolutely must stay. Take advantage of the opportunities you mentioned and please don’t come back.

3

You would have gotten my earlier messages last week, but since I never sent them, I can’t blame the Internet. I will include them both with this one, which I am hurriedly writing. I am sending all three of them to you because repeating the two previous ones with all the facts that I know now and did not know then is embarrassing for those who hate the epistolary genre, as you can imagine. If it were not that I know your shouting voice in the same way that I am beginning to be accustomed to mine, I would call you on the phone to put an end to all this. Anyway, since time is short and our needs are equally urgent, I will only briefly mention what happened. Do you remember the last time we talked on the phone? You told me then that what kept you from staying in Liverpool was your desire to see Lorena again, that your breaking up with her had been a mistake. I understand what you mean now. Before I only knew her through your descriptions, but when I was writing the message before this one, she came over with the other girls I had been expecting. She was prepared to make up with you. She said she had been at the beach for a while at your recommendation, to settle her nerves, before coming to visit the house. Just as with the records and so many other things, it was enough for me to see her to recognize her and understand what had transpired between you, that is, between us. You’re a damned liar. She wasn’t to blame. You wanted to protect your pride, no doubt, but when Luis wrote you not to come back he knew what he was talking about. You’d better pay attention to him. Your return would have disastrous consequences. Now then, that’s all I have to say. I don’t want to arrive late to my wedding. Pay attention to me and stay abroad. Don’t think of the properties of yours that I’ve seized, think of Lorena, for if you truly love her you must comprehend the irreparable shock it would cause her to learn that there are two Samuels.