EPISODE VIII
“Be sure I won´t. I´ll be back in the village for the presentation of the book, with a braille copy for you in my hands.”
Guarantee: Surety given by one person to another, committed to keeping to what is agreed.
Cali, Colombia, January 19th 2018
After lunch and a short nap, The Loser Titan decided to wander around Nugaró. He walked out of the E.S.P.I., turned left, headed straight down the road up to the bridge that Sebastián Belalcázar, future founder of Cali, used to cross with his troops during the viceroyalty of Nueva Granada (territory of the overseas Spanish empire), in the heat of endless battles he conducted against the indigenous, native occupants of a region reluctant to recognize Spain as the ruling authority over the tribes. At present, trucks had to make a detour to follow their trade routes, as the bridge was undergoing repairs. One villager that noticed The Loser Titan was new in town, bumped into him and told him the story of Nugaró, which ended with the news that the bridge was Eusebio Vallegrande´s highest priority, that is to say its repair will be finished next week. “It´s reasonable his concern to fix it as quick as possible, for the bridge is the sole touristic attraction of the village” –the villager said convinced-. The Loser Titan nodded while he gasped for the same air Valentina must be breathing elsewhere in the village. The sun, by means of its revolution movement around the galactic centre, suggested him which road to take. Following its suggestion he got away from the bridge, left the man talking to himself, then trekked in the opposite direction to the route along tree-built passage that blocked daylight. An elderly man, who sat beside a youngster on two folding chairs, stopped the foreigner just when he was picking up the pace. They both gave the impression of being captured by idleness, so the Loser Titan took profit of the almost mystic silence they were engaged into, to distance him from them in order to regain speed. He wanted to reach Central Square to get to know the centenary tree which numberless times Valentina must have touched. As he steadily moved forward, running like a fled hare, the person most likely to be the oldest of Nugaró made him put the brakes on. The old talked to a young. All of a sudden they started, without explicit consent of The Loser Titan, to refer him of their achievements as seekers of the truth, how difficult times they had struggling against their excesses, used up by alcohol consumption as well as by disputes on unrecognized children born in the apotheosis of polygamist competitions. “That´s in the past, of course” –they assured dramatically. The monologue focussed on religious matters, but also on deceitful pastors and alternative therapies. The younger of the two, however, showed a propensity to meandering philosophy crowned by an unbearable steam of alcohol which would –The Loser Titan feared- hardly help prove his spiritual credentials. Unless the monologue be closed out, no doubt the steam of alcohol will get stamped on The Loser Titan, escorting him until the hotel or even farther to Cali. The speakers had no intentions to finish their speeches; one could say that the Major of Nugaró had posted them there on purpose to entertain The Loser Titan. Anyway, before allowing him to go on, the a priori redeemed street philosophers advised the writer to pay a visit to the local church: “It´ll be worth it, you hear me?” -reassured the alcohol steamer loudly, in agreement with his apparently sober older friend.
Yet excepted from the duty of obedience, he rushed to the temple. A ruined neighbouring construction, whose age is measured in centuries, witnessed confessional secrets and penances for an unfair price concluded with Jewish angels at the beginning of the ages. As soon as he came into the church The Loser Titan noted that the so-called House of God was astonishingly big, high-ceilinged with flanking naves ornamented with medieval stained glass windows, in addition to gigantic images allusive to Virgin Mary. Although The Loser Titan did not cross himself, he skirted the tabernacle like a pilgrim gotten into his shell, until sitting on a wide bench where grannies gathered to pray Novenas together. Seated in devotional attitude he opened his spirit up to the dwellers of heaven, though it was the unmistakable smile of Valentina who came to meet him. Here it is God doing funny business. The Loser Titan said in a low voice, looking at the altar, that it´s worth incarnating into this world. Unexpectedly, tears rolled down to the bench; once they settled, The Most High confiscated them in a blaze of kindness. Not so far from The Loser Titan, there was an afro-descendant with over-developed hips remorsefully praying, grabbing a rosary in her hands. She turned her head while she wondered about the reasons of his neighbour’s sobbing. Even though she was not undergoing the best days of her life, she built up a smile that crumbled away when lash of guilt swallowed her again. If she wanted to be eligible for God´s forgiveness on account of having lost her virginity under the covers of a representative of Christ, she should keep on praying and praying, duly knelt as she was. Her refusal to go to confession lay in the pitiful coincidence that her lover turned out to be Father Philip, the only confessor priest of Nugaró. Despite of the fact that in the seminar of Piendamó Father Philip had sworn an oath of chastity before becoming a clergyman, his vote crashed with the holly hips of the afro-descendant penitent. The Loser Titan received a message from The Lord through the windows of his conscience: “someday you shall also be forgiven, you must be forgiven”. Somewhere inside the church a small bell rang, indicating that the hearing with God was over. The woman got up on her feet with great difficulty, fixed her glance on the visitor and perceived an unusual passion for literature on him, associated with the hyperactivity of imagination.
The Loser Titan set off to the library of Nugaró, ten blocks away from the church. It was the typical visit of a well-educated traveller: anywhere he goes he would look for a cave of books in the first place, afterward walk in, would hang around making inquiries, he may borrow some copies to be read overnight on the condition of giving them back next morning. Clear enough, The Loser Titan regarded himself as a tourist in search of literary findings. Upon arrival he was welcomed by Marvi Esperanza, a thirty years old fat lady, afro-descendant too, with big lips which display –like all trained poodles do- a friendly smile, supervised by neat white teeth. Each of her gestures provided strong evidence of her delight that a foreigner had taken a time to show up into a tiny House of Culture. Without consulting she ushered him into a mini-tour around the shelves, crammed with skits, books for kids and mystic essays that she gaily showed him; meanwhile, the librarian was told by The Loser Titan about the book he had launched in Argentina a month ago. A habitué reader sat beside the front door with his blind man´s stick, suddenly called on The Loser Titan: “Sorry to interrupt you, Sir –the blind-man excused himself-, I am very interested in reading your book, if hopefully published in braille”. The request caught the writer off guard; it had never occurred to him that a blind person might be interested in his works. The Loser Titan shall talk about it with the French Chief Editor, but however promised to do his best to get a braille piece for the visually impaired reader. It was then when Marvi Esperanza made to The Loser Titan an unexpected proposal:
- Look son, why don´t you present your book here? Yeah, once again, think of a second chance. I can take the task of organizing the event.
The Loser Titan amused himself with the word son, term of endearment he was not used to.
- It´s not a bad idea –The Loser Titan conceded. In fact, I´d love it. Though there´s an issue…
- What? An issue? Do not come to me with bullshit –the luscious lady warned him.
- The fact is that the novel brings to light a series of scandals. Whether it would please or not the people of Nugaró are a mystery.
- Is it a joke? –Miss Marvi cried out-. Scandals abound here; we eke out a living on existing scandals which hopefully linger throughout time. I have no doubt that the presentation shall be a great success. Do you have the slightest idea how extremely are scandals enjoyed in Nugaró? Spreading scandals through the word of mouth is our main job, as well as the reason why there are no newspapers in the village. We don´t need them. Furthermore, you cannot imagine the savings on paper and printing expenses we have achieved. Now that your fears vanished …Will you stop fooling and aim at the target? Come on, let´s do it.
The Loser Titan spent the while at the library going into details on the second literary event with regards to his latest work.
- What´s your novel about? –The conversation raised Marvi´s curiosity.
- In no way have I written a novel. It´s rather a chronicle of travel, a fiction of myself doing social work. Since I have lived in so many countries and met so many ladies, well, some women-related stories have been piled up in this book. The character is not real, although most of the episodes were taken from reality. Let´s say that eighty percent of the chronicle did stick to what it happened in the battle-field, whereas the remaining twenty percent was invented. The narrator-protagonist describes unforeseen incidents in which he plays the role of assisting ladies he has come across during sixteen years of voyages throughout ten countries. The storyline insinuates that the character, through the eyes of the women involved, is a welfare provider, inasmuch as each of his interventions deals with solving women´s problems, putting out their afflictions, helping them in times of sorrow and so on. That´s to say, he who is supposed to be me goes over many countries, enters the lives of troubled women to whom he delivers solutions and spiritual pills for free, as if he were a door-to-door pharmacist. Then a second narrator gathers up the opinions of these ladies in an epilogue. In the epilogue an encounter between the main character and a Norwegian lawyer is recounted; finally the lawyer would convince the social assistant to have carried out an apostolate which positively affected these defenceless women, so much so that the Norwegian shall encourage him to file, before an European court, a petition for monetary compensation grounded on his contribution to the reduction of female anguish, grieves, pains and distress.
- That is blatant, of course it is –Marvi teased The Loser Titan.
- Blatant or not it doesn´t matter, what makes me feel so well when writing fiction is that you may stack reality in your favour. Did you ever think that we writers seek not to reinvent the wheel but to reinvent ourselves, thus giving the readers an example of the luxuries we are allowed by setting our imagination in motion? Anyway Marvi, I would like to place on record the likeability to cause a good mess in the audience, feminists might be quick to pick a fight, as the text is purposely sexist. I intended to craft an ode to the emblematic Argentinian arrogance, by using sarcasm I´m mocking of over pride superiority. To some extent I exaggerated the myth of Argentinians being a mass production of self-sufficient, omnipotent, commiserating, omnipresent and omniscient Gods, so powerful as to be able to encompass everything and all. Still, the denouement might put down the air of presumptuousness I was trying to express. Going deeper on, if I were to tell you the innermost motivations, I should say there´s an undercover plot built as an attempt to show women as minions vis-a-vis the main character, like subordinated entities inseparable to the one they are attached to.
- Ok, swaggering writer, stop boasting and come back to earth. You are going to present the book in Nugaró, aren´t you?
- Ok, it´s a deal –The Loser Titán answered.
- Well, Sir, it´s time to close the library, 5.45 in the afternoon. Time for you to leave.
As pleased as he could be, on the way out of the building The Loser Titan got the librarian´s personal details (email, cell phone, etc) as well as a kind warning from the blind man: “Don´t forget about my book in braille, Sir, I want to read it too. I´ve just listened to the synopsis by chance, it looks very interesting”. The true assistance side of The Loser Titan –not the fictional one- was shaken again by the visually impaired enthusiast, who did not conform to the parasitical life most disabled harrowingly descended into.
- Be sure I won´t. I´ll be back in the village for the presentation of the book, with a braille copy for you in my hands. Take care of yourself, dude –The Argentinian touched the future reader and inadvertently kicked his blind-stick.
This persistent guy made possible what it seemed may not: for an instant The Loser Titan managed to put Valentina out of his mind.
It was almost six o´clock in the afternoon, dinner was arranged by seven at the Hotel, at seven Valentina and her mother would be opening the presents. The nineteenth of January 2018 would be a crucial time for The Loser Titan, the hint of a happening beyond words. Hanged on the walls of the purgatory (the waiting room of eccentrics) there is a poster with the saying: “What in the end really matters is that you have loved once at least”. The Loser Titan can now declare that he finally loved, indeed he is loving a woman; even at this very moment in which he is seated on the pavement thinking over his next steps, he is loving a woman. But asphaltic reflections cleared off as a text message from Valentina came in: “My father is eager to meet you, please cancel dinner with Gloria. Where are you?” The writer told her the exact location. “Ok, don´t move away from there. Wait. I´ll go fetch you”.
Four people approached the library front door at seven o´clock: Valentina, her father, her sister and a cousin. In whole they looked like a brigade accustomed to care for the injured, to shelter vulnerable groups. Though she showed no sign of allergy, Valentina presented an unusual seriousness on her face, the way she edged closer to final destination reminded of mystics in a four-hour length levitation effortlessly sliding forward. The fact of kissing The Loser Titan on his cheek made Valentina blush. The Loser Titan promised to himself not to wash his face again, even at the expense of discontinuing personal hygiene procedures. Being much smaller than her, when getting a closer look to Valentina´s father appearance you can see an ex-football whose actual life is disgusting. As a result of his body language, admiration to Valentina blended in him with a trembling boxing jaw. Yet apparently good-natured, Valentina´s father greeting to The Loser Titan was martial-like, rigidity could not be concealed at all. Unworried by the side, Valentina´s sister and her cousin were busy at playing a sleight of hands which The Loser Titan had no idea of.
The compact quintet headed for the house.
Hello readers!! The novel has FOUR PARTS with eight episodes each. Therefore, Episode 8 is the last of PART ONE. PART TWO is still the presentation of the plot, seen from the perspective of Valentina´s family members; the storyline in PART THREE is at the crux; PART FOUR reports the final destination of the two main characters. Moreover, there is a short EPILOGUE and an appendix.
