18
Bliss
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On that day, she had returned home later than usual. A meeting that extended longer at the office, a coffee with a friend at El MartÃnez on Av. Corrientes, and an unexpected delay on the subway. All these events, all invented, gave her just the right amount of time she needed to explain her late arrival home, where her husband and children were waiting for her.
Two adult children, a placidly unpassionate marriage, and Chimi, the family’s poodle. They were everything that awaited her daily return from work. But that day was different because once again, she had left the office early and had encountered the person who, in her 50s, had restored her confidence as a woman, making her feel desired again like when she was young, when she was certain of the stir she caused.
They had been young lovers many years ago when the future was still a distant concept for both of them. Then, each took their own path, and many years later, they reconnected thanks to an old notebook he kept from a time when there was no other way to record a phone number. Now, those afternoons of passion occurred with a certain frequency but without turning them into a mutual need. Neither of them required such awkwardness. A passion without complications, an oasis in both their lives that allowed them to move forward.
As always, upon returning from these reunions, Chimi would start the methodical sniffing of her clothes, her shoes, her hands. Because you can deceive almost anything except a dog’s sense of smell. She would pet him while the little dog persisted in his search, trying to identify that scent his owner brought back from time to time. A scent that seemed foreign to the family.
They sat down for dinner, Chimi stood guard by her side. Every now and then, she gave him a complicit look that even a dog could understand. “You’re not going to tell, right?” the look said to her pet. After dinner and the usual greetings, each retired to sleep. Her husband was now only interested in some good streaming series, and she had stopped caring about his indifference. A perfect balance capable of sustaining the facade of a marriage until the end of time.
The next morning, the routine began at the usual hour. After breakfast, the children went off to their activities, and then she said goodbye to her husband and left for her office in the city center. As usual, he stayed for a while, enjoying the solitude of those early hours of the day. He finished his breakfast leisurely while catching up on the same old news on the kitchen TV. Occasionally, he would offer Chimi a small piece of buttered bread that the dog would sniff before gobbling up. At one point, they locked eyes, the dog and his owner. In silence. Almost unmoving. A serious gaze that if it came from a human, there would be no doubt that it was the start of a complicated conversation. To break the discomfort that was creeping in, he asked:
“What’s up, Chimi, huh? Do you want to tell me something?”
“Yes,” the dog said. “We need to talk, Michael.”
Bliss
Bobok
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