Ashes in the Heart (Editing)

The Safado

It all began in mid-March, when the days still echoed the heat of summer and the trees of Rhode Island were beginning to show the first signs of fall. The city was suffused with a mix of gold and green colors, a constant reminder of the ephemeral beauty of nature.

It was on one of those quiet afternoons when I saw her for the first time. He walked through the streets, with an aura of innocence and curiosity that seemed to illuminate his path. Despite having lived just three blocks away from my apartment for so long, her presence went unnoticed by me, like a side note in a forgotten book.

Amy Philippe, that was her name. A young woman with reddish hair and eyes that seemed to hold unfathomable secrets. Her smile was warm and sincere, a flash of light amidst the monotony of everyday life.

Accompanying her was her older sister, Anna, whose presence was as vibrant as Amy's, but with a more overflowing and effervescent energy. Together they radiated a warmth that was hard to ignore, even for someone as distant as me.

Word of their arrival soon spread through the community like wildfire. Tongues were unleashed, weaving stories and speculations about the new neighbors. From the tea club, the old ladies of the city watched curiously, debating the past and future of the Philippe sisters.

For me, however, his arrival was just a side note in my own story. At twenty-five, I had become accustomed to a life of excess and fleeting pleasures, ignoring everything that was not related to my own needs and desires.

But deep in my heart, something was beginning to change. Amy's presence awakened something in me, something that had lain dormant for too long. As the days passed, I found myself thinking about her more than I should, wondering what secrets those mysterious eyes were hiding and what stories her lips could tell.

Maybe, just maybe, in the midst of my life of excess and hedonism, the time had come to open my eyes and discover what really mattered in life.

The days slipped by one after another, and although at first, I was completely uninterested in the life of the Philippe sisters, it was impossible to avoid continuing to hear about them. They were like newly opened buds, invisible but full of promise and expectation, and their mere presence seemed to set off a storm of murmuring and speculation throughout the city.

Mrs. Murphy, one of the city's oldest and most nosy neighbors, became the host of a scene of gossip and gossip on her elegant balcony every afternoon. Accompanied by a group of friends of similar ilk, she indulged in a session of tea and gossip that rivaled any primetime soap opera.

— I hope these new neighbors are not ones who enjoy life too much. — Mrs. Murphy commented with a sharp tone, while she raised a cup of tea to her lips with a disapproving gesture.

—Margot, you know how young people are today, more interested in their vices and pleasures than in maintaining respectable behavior— Mrs. Williams added, with a look of disgust that was echoed in her wrinkled face.

I had always found it unpleasant to listen to that woman's opinions. Not only because I met her almost daily in my favorite cafe, but also because from my balcony, adjacent to hers by a coincidence of fate, I witnessed how she used her sharp tongue to discredit anyone who crossed her path.

It was disconcerting to think that these old women, despite their wealth and social position, found pleasure in sowing discord and discontent in the community with their insidious words.

—There is no longer respect for family values—Declaimed another dark-skinned old woman whose name I couldn't remember, while she gave me reproachful glances and crossed herself with her hands. It seemed to disturb him that he was watching the sunset shirtless in front of them.

—Back to the topic—Mrs. Murphy intervened—. Mrs. Bennett lives near them, and as she says, they are quite friendly but very reserved.

— ¡Drugs! —One of the old women suddenly exclaimed—. I'm sure that's what they do.

The uproar erupted like a henhouse in full ferment, each trying to outdo the other in volume so that her disapproving opinion could be heard.

— ¡Ladies! — Mrs. Murphy shouted, trying to restore order. — Please, let's keep our composure!

She went on to say that, after so much speculation, she had finally confirmed the names of the new neighbors.

The old ladies took out their notebooks and began to take notes, and I began to wonder if the tea club was nothing more than a research group or some kind of cult, given the precision with which they controlled information in the community.

—Let's start with the most scandalous one— Mrs. Williams murmured.

—Bianca Marth —Mrs. Murphy continued. —She is 21 years old and has black hair.

—He works at Robert's store —Mrs. Flores added.

—¿In your son's? —some asked, surprised and worried.

—Exactly—she responded indignantly. — I don't know how Robert can allow it.

The atmosphere was filled with a heavy air of condemnation as they continued their gossip.

—Next is Anna Philippe—"my "lovely" neighbor intervened with a touch of irony in her voice. —She has red hair, with a light tan, around 23 years old.

—She works as a caregiver at the children's hospital and the state nursing home in the city—another neighbor added. — My daughter has seen it many times in both places.

—And the last one is Amy Philippe.

—I think she's the sister of the previous girl— Mrs. Williams added. — My grandson Max knows her; he says she is about 19 years old.

—¿Are they natural redheads? —one asked cheekily.

— No, I think they are both redheads by birth.

—It must be the only natural thing they have— another commented maliciously.

—May God forgive you if you are trying to tarnish this honorable community with your actions— Mrs. Williams exclaimed with obvious indignation.

The whispers intensified and everyone continued to blurt out their opinions non-stop, unable to hold their tongues.

— ¡May God forgive you! —I shouted without looking at them. They fell silent instantly and looked at me with horror.

—For destroying every citizen of this peaceful community with their words— I stood up, took off my sunglasses and looked at them with disdain. — I think I would be more pleased to see their names on tombstones.

I smiled disdainfully and nodded my head in farewell before leaving. He couldn't stand to listen to her mumbling anymore. After that encounter, the only thing certain was that she would sleep like a baby, imagining their faces distorted by malice.

()

My interest in Amy was fleeting, a flame that flared briefly and then faded into darkness. Despite my youth, I was consumed by arrogance and pride, qualities I fervently embraced. At 25 years old, my life revolved around parties and endless fun, blinded by the belief that the world was reduced to ephemeral pleasures, without paying attention to what really mattered.

I guess... when you have everything from the beginning, you don't understand the true value of things until it's too late.

My last two years passed between flashes of multicolored lights, in rooms shrouded in darkness, with a different face every night in my bed, drowning my sorrows in alcohol to the limit of my physical resistance.