There were small pools on which one could see the reflections of a tender-blue sky with its clouds unravelling. The west wind dissipated the clouds slowly, but made way for the triumphant entry of sunlight, a beautiful spring evening in May – it had rained only hours ago. The reflections distorted. The French dog of Mz. Valeria moved as if it were devoid of all restraint and life’s strong purposes. It trampled the pools. Its paws were equipped with soft little pads like gumdrops. From the other side of the street, Gabriela saw the dog. Despite its usual obedience and attention, it celebrated eagerly, with shrill barks, the return of its master. The dog made it difficult for Valeria, who, after a stressful day of work, was coming back home with paper bags stuffed with groceries. The dog didn’t cease its barking and commotion, but it didn’t bother Valeria. “I don’t know why she doesn’t kick that stupid dog’s ass,” Gabriela cursed under her breath. Valeria really didn’t notice.
An earthworm, after some hesitation, decided to take the course leading to the ground where wet blades of grass were springing up. Raindrops adorned the grass stems, like delicate pearls in the evening light. This earthworm was determined to reach the fabled land where it would be fresh and safe. It slithered languidly across the cracked and drying concrete, upon which Rodrigo (Gabriela’s son) was walking. Gabriela had told him to "Go and help Valeria! Don’t you see she needs help?" After receiving his mother’s order, Rodrigo, ever the good young gentleman, stood up and crossed the street. He set out to assist Valeria, who was at risk of losing her balance, falling, and fracturing her hip. Yes, she was a damsel in distress, he thought. He felt proud of being young, available, and a gentleman. He could provide help to a lady. Rodrigo trampled the worm. He didn’t notice. The worm was paralyzed. It shook suddenly by spontaneous post mortem reflexes.
“Let me help you, Mz. Valeria!” said Rodrigo.
Mz. Valeria looked extraordinary, with her yellow dress and little white hat, Rodrigo thought. Gabriela, by contrast, was just an ordinary housewife, who, he thought, spent hours locked inside. She cooked, watched lurid soap operas, cleaned, and scrubbed. Mz. Valeria worked in an office. She had to be there daily, in elegant attire. Every day, Mz. Valeria sat, for eight continuous hours, behind a desk that had been sculpted from twisted filaments of stainless steel.
What similarities could be drawn between my mother and her? He asked himself. After all, both of them were in charge. They slaughtered chaos. They brought stability and order. Or do they?
“There are more bags in the trunk of the car.” Mz. Valeria replied, without the gratitude Rodrigo expected, and walked toward the house with her bags, despite the dog’s pathetic stunts.
Anyways, my mother is a million times better than you. He thought.
He recalled that Mz. Valeria had no children. Mz. Valeria’s husband was a scientist. He spent his time traveling. He was in Australia doing god-only-knows-what. Rodrigo thought he understood the bitterness that he perceived in her. Despite being sixteen, he thought he was highly sensitive, and able to empathize.
I’m mature beyond my years. He said this to himself, with self-satisfaction.
He took the rest of the bags from the trunk, made sure that was all, and started the walk to the house. That was the first time he crossed the threshold of her home. He saw the beige walls, adorned with framed paintings, which were strange, and shelves full of little porcelain figurines of mythological animals. There were books and papers on the dining table. Papers related to her work. He had never imagined her house to be so intriguing inside. It was magical. It had been a mystery for many years. From one minute to another, the inside of Mz. Valeria’s house became his here and now. He walked through a narrow hall into the kitchen, where the white little dog barked and jumped against the legs of his mistress, his source of meat, thought Rodrigo.
Dogs don’t behave that way because of love, but because of convenience.
“Is that it?” She said.
“Yes, ma'am. These were the last bags.”
Mz. Valeria glanced and quickly counted the bags on the table. She nodded.
“Thank you.” She said.
As Rodrigo came out from Mz. Valeria's house, he saw a sky tinged with gray and purple, and clouds spanned by rays of sunlight, striped with red and orange... the cloudbanks ignited, and he felt a cool breeze. Rodrigo walked with his head down. He thought about how sad Mz. Valeria must be, with that outrageous dog as her only companion. He went home. His mother was waiting, he imagined, with supper ready on the table. He saw his father's old car parked on the street. He had come from work. Rodrigo saw it on the ground.
“Who is so cruel? Who crushes a poor little earthworm?” He said out loud.
THE END
