Biography

Now that everything has finished, I am able to talk about Alicia Castro. A biography, shouldn’t ever be planned until the central character has disappeared from the scene. Although her existence was brief, we both shared a lot of experiences, each worth for a whole life.

The day I lost her, was one of the worst of my life. I always had speculations on how death was; whether it was a painful obstruction of existence or a smooth passing by to a different cosmic level. Now that I have experienced it, I am not afraid of it anymore.

The day Alicia Castro died I was wearing the woollen blue sweater that she had bought last February. She was the type of person that preferred giving your Valentine’s present one day later and save some money for something else. I never believed in these social constraints but she was happy thinking that she was able to escape from the big herd, at least for some time. Then she could spend the money she had saved in beautiful, flourished, cheap nonsense: a 50% off-price new-age designed ashtray (none of us smoked at home), or a $15 golden corkscrew only used when we celebrated our anniversary at home (just once).

That day, as many other lately, she said that she had a really busy day in her office. We decided to meet after work to have dinner in a fashionable Brazilian restaurant in Atocha. I had been lazing around for some time that evening and decided to drop in her office a bit early with the hope of being able to rescue her from hard day's work. While I was getting closer to the block where she worked, a fizzy feeling grew inside me. I was nervous because I knew it would be a great surprise to her. I knew she would love it and I could make her happy again, after that crazy month she was passing through. I even had the feeling that so much work on her life may ruin our relationship in a long-term basis. I was there to fight against work and boredom. I was there to make her happy.

When I was at 50 yards from her building, from my goal, I saw a silver X5 BMW. It was this type of car that always makes you be jealous at the driver’s, no matter how s/he is. I was absorbed by the design of the car and its powerful line, by the huge wheels and the good-taste distribution of the headlight. At that time I was lucky to see that beautiful car so close to me. When I looked inside it everything changed. I could see Alicia dying. It was as in those movies where the director tries to highlight the most important scenes using slow motion camera. I could see her so beautiful, so full of live so lovely that it was nearly impossible to foresee her death.

She giggled at some stupid blue joke that the grey-haired driver must had retold for the umpteenth time. She wasn’t conscious of her close ending. She seemed so happy that anyone may have thought that it was some revengeful god’s irony, her passing away at that time. But life is full of incongruence and unforeseen episodes. Very slow, with a 50’s-film plastic movement, she approached the envied man. Her lips didn’t know what it may happen to the rest of her body. I blinked for only one second, but it was too late. She had already gone. She had died the very moment she kissed the man.

When she got off the car, I walked up to her very slowly. As at funeral pace, I lined over her cold face and kissed her corpse good-bye. She was dead on two legs. I never saw her again.

 January 2006