Ventura

Capítulo 1

                                                                   Marseille - France

There is a phrase that says: "Marseille: When you don't live, you dream of visiting it. When you live, you dream of leaving."

Well, here I am. At 21 years old. Thinking about the future. And whenever I do that, I imagine the repetition of the present day. Perhaps it is due to the proximity of winter when the city is quiet and tourists are gone. Maybe it's my mother's longing.

A distant church bell rang six times. The sound still hung in the cool morning air, and I stopped to admire the view. I've always loved this city. With its old and quiet streets. Where we can still ride a bike to go to work or the beach in the summer. I love the feeling of freedom as I walk along the beach and the sea breeze plays with my hair.

Three times a week I come to the old port to buy products for the restaurant. It is the only moment that I feel alive, vibrant and even happy. But this past year something has been bothering me. Perhaps because Henry was becoming a little more inconvenient than usual. Since my mother's death he –in my stepfather's condition-became my tutor. Until I was eighteen we lived in a civilized way. However, before I turned nineteen I noticed a subtle change in his behavior. Always in a casual way he tried a proximity that bothered me. In the last year I noticed a predator's look waiting for its prey. And when I tried to dodge it he became rude and tried in every way to find something wrong in my work.

My mother was a typical French woman, with red hair and green eyes. She was short and a little chubby. He had the sweetest smile in the world and it was impossible not to admire her for her strength and determination. She was widowed when I was six. My father was a fisherman, and we had no savings, so we had nothing left. And she found herself alone and with a young daughter to raise. She got a job as a maid in one of the hotels in the city. But when winter came and tourists left, most inns closed.

Without a monthly salary it was impossible to support ourselves. As a fisherman's wife, my mother knew all the typical foods of the region and knew how to prepare them with mastery. With the help of a friend, she managed to open a small traditional restaurant in the city, which soon became known for serving the best Bouillabaisse in the city. The delicacy is a soup with local ingredients and fresh fish from the region. The restaurant was small and cozy. It had polished wooden tables and checkered ceilings. In each of them there was a decorative candle, and at night they were lit giving a romantic air to the place.

We were happy. She and I. Until one day a charming and polite man entered the restaurant and ordered the dish of the day. He was tall, with dark, shrewd eyes. His baritone voice soon caught our attention. But he was always very kind and kind. Two days later he returned, and so on for four months. In the meantime my mother had already fallen in love and the marriage was not long in coming. We looked like a family. Complete and happy. He then left the job of inspector at the port and went to work at the restaurant as an administrator.

We pooled our savings and bought a house in the suburbs. It was a very simple townhouse. The lower floor consisted of a living room and kitchen and the upper floor had two bedrooms and a bathroom. For us it was a palace. The bedroom windows looked out on a small backyard where Mom planted herbs. In the summer we used to put our sunbeds and sunbathe with a good cup of tea. At the front, a small wooden gate that creaked whenever it was opened welcomed me. Mom placed miniature flower pots and shrubs up to the main entrance. Whenever I looked at my house, I thought of a doll's house.

My mother became pregnant, which filled us with joy. It was a magical period. We were waiting for the baby to arrive for Christmas. We bought the largest tree we found and decorated it with colorful balls and lights. We had plans to do a little renovation and add another bedroom and bathroom. I remember the stack of designs drawn on sheets of paper and how we discussed the decoration of the new baby's room. In the seventh month of pregnancy my mother could no longer work at the restaurant and that's when I started to learn.