In this week's story, also from the book "From Autumn", the first feelings of love are magnificently related, wrapped in the memory of the girl at the time, with the innocence of a time and an age of dreams and illusions.
I don't know why, but my mother considered that all the naps was not right there.I let me go to him, from time to time, but it was usual for me to stay at home.
My situation was better than that of other boys, for whom to sleep at that time was mandatory, not because it was healthy or necessary, but so that the rest of the elderly would not annoy.Of course, a relative silence was imposed, so my mother's whim of teaching us to read so early, came to me wonders.
I do not want to imagine the torture of those boring naps, of not having been for the books.
Mujercitas, Jo's stories, Tom Sawyer, Uncle Tom's cabin ... I must have read them a hundred times.But the favorite was a heart.Maybe because to enjoy it I had to hide my brother, who cruelly mocked my unstoppable crying.
The arrival of the Living game was providential.The inclined position that my mother had given to the couch created the ideal space to tend me downstand in the corner and review again and again the painful storks of Marco, from the Apennines to the Andes, the bravery of the small Lombard vigía, the earlyFonti's evil and Garrón's clumsy tenderness.Until the book was soaked in tears.
With my brother, we gathered the coins won with our poetic empados and we were going to the La Esfera bookstore, in front of the Uruguayan square, where we bought books and magazines.
The great party was given when, every two or three months, they warned from the mail that a parcel of Buenos Aires had arrived.My mother's sister, whose children were older, sent us packages with dozens of interval, Paturuzú, Antena and Radiolandia.My mother bought tell me and then exchanged for you, with my grandmother Olga;Recently Baba Libster reminded me that her mother, Mrs. Dorita, who bought you.Dad brought from the Life center, vision and selections.Then he began to arrive from Cuba, Bohemia, which one day was called free bohemia.Until they let her in anymore.
On Saturdays we went to the cinema.In winter, in the afternoon.And in summer, at night, to the terrace of the Granados, where we saw musical or jeans films and took grinding sodas.Although the film was called "the gentlemen prefer them blondes", I did not aspire to be like Marilyn Monroe.My parameter was Jane Russel, who had a dark mane equal to that of my aunt Cata, to which everyone found me.
To my misfortune I did not have her wavy hair, nor that of my mother, who was redhead.My hair was always straight, like Dad's.And Mom insisted on dominating him with "permanent" stinking that little miracle did, so there was only the resource of some frosted braids that, when they let go, hinted at the occasional wave, of very ephemeral duration.My mother, without worrying about my self -esteem, described them as creators.Luckily when the time came, they became fashionable.
However, in my early age I accelerated the throbbing of some hearts.Like that of my companion Darío, a blushing Flaw so protected by his mother who, despite living less than one hundred meters from school, accompanied him first and back and did not settle for waiting for him on the sidewalk.The lady settled at the classroom door and took it by the hand before she set foot on the corridor.
However, he managed to escape the rigid maternal control.And a nap he came to my house, hit the door and handed me a box where there was a necklace made with colored papers.Without saying a word, he turned around and ran out.
While I did not return the beautiful gift, I did not correspond to Darío's feelings, because at that time I already had a boyfriend who was about to be received as a doctor.
I think I told that Dad had two much younger brothers.Mario and Rogelio.Maruco and Rorropo.The "boys."High and good young men, my twenty -year -old uncles were lost of love for us, their nephews.But, without proposing it to me, I took advantages before my brother.He was a man about to enter the turkey age and I a little girl in full stage of thanks and flirting.
Not only was I put in his pocket to that pair of tender big, but to all his friends.The favorite was Carlitos Cañizá, a medical student and owner of a beautiful pair of green eyes, who said that I was the prettiest girl in the world and assured that she was going to marry me.
One night, dad and mom were packaged with their best galas and announced, without the slightest consideration, that they went to a wedding.Carlitos Cañizá got married.
I thought it was a joke first.Until they went to look for them in Rogelio's car with my grandmother and my aunt Cata!I don't know if I asked or it simply was the spontaneous conversation that confirmed the terrible news.Cañizá married another.And my whole family, who had witnessed his repeated promises, became an accomplice of that early wound from my heart.
I couldn't even seek understanding in my brother, who would make fun of my shattered dreams.
That night I did not learn any sonnet.I was too sad to also load with the desolation of the poets.
It is possible that he has already had, at that time, a predisposition to look at men somewhat older than me.
At school they taught us the first notions of history.And the trend in vogue, despite the prevailing nationalism, was quite pejorative with the indigenous people.
The version of the reading book was that before the Spaniards, of clear leather and bearded face, wrapped in their metal armor and fired fire from their rifles, the natives believed to see reaching higher beings, something like gods or at least half -semi -a -sized ones.And they were delivered without quarrels or corcoveos.
One day dad came early from the center, accompanied by nothing less than by Óscar Ferreiro, who at that time would be just over thirty years old.Also for me, it was the first time I saw someone with a beard.And so beautiful!
Although he did not bring armor, but a simple Livian Brin suit, there was no doubt.It was the conqueror, sitting in the room of my house, sharing with my father a kind gathering, watered from an aristocrat stimulant with ice and lemon.
That succession of disappointments aroused an early vocation for frivolity.
The visits to my grandmother's house gave me access to the magazines that bought my uncles.And I loved a character of rich guy.The series, created by Divitus, was called "Several Boyfriends had Bibi" and reported the stumbling blocks of a wavy and Miss Casquivana.
My projects sketched a polyndical future like that of the lucky Bibi.Secret that I only dared to share with my shy friend Elsi, who listened to me scared.And she is still my pending subject.
