Un trist relat, entre la borratxera i la violència, protagonitzada per persones que han perdut totes les batalles d’una societat que els margina i els aboca a l’alcohol. Gelosia i derrota. Un bon exemple de l’anomenat realisme brut americà.
A MAN
George was lying in his trailer, flat on his back, watching a small portable T.V. His dinner dishes were undone, his breakfast dishes were undone, he needed a shave, and ash from his rolled cigarettes dropped onto his undershirt. Some of the ash was still burning. Sometimes the burning ash missed the undershirt and hit his skin, then he cursed, brushing it away.
There was a knock on the trailer door. He got slowly to his feet and answered the door. It was Constance. She had a fifth of unopened whiskey in a bag.
“George, I left that son of a bitch, I couldn’t stand that son of a bitch anymore.”
“Sit down.”
George estava recolzat en el seu remolc, sobre la seua esquena, veient un xicotet televisor portàtil. Els seus plats del sopar estaven bruts, els de el desdejuni estaven bruts, necessitava afaitar-se, i la cendra del seu cigarret queia sobre la seua samarreta. Una mica de la cendra encara estava encesa. En ocasions, la cendra encesa fallava a caure en la seua samarreta i queia en la seua pell, llavors ell maleïa, apartant-la d’un manotada.
Van cridar a la porta del remolc. Lentament es va posar dempeus i va obrir la porta. Era Constance. Ella tenia un cinquè de whiskey sense obrir en una borsa.
-George, he deixat aqueix fill de puta, no podia suportar més aqueix fill de puta.
-Asseu-te.
George opened the fifth, got two glasses, filled each a third with whiskey, two thirds with water. He sat down on the bed with Constance. She took a cigarette out of her purse and lit it. She was drunk and her hands trembled.
“I took his damn money too. I took his damn money and split while he was at work.
You don’t know how I’ve suffered with that son of a bitch.”
“Lemme have a smoke,” said George. She handed it to him and as she leaned near,
George put his arm around her, pulled her over and kissed her.
“You son of a bitch,” she said, “I missed you.”
“I miss those good legs of yours, Connie. I’ve really missed those good legs.”
“You still like ’em?”
“I get hot just looking.”
“I miss those good legs of yours, Connie. I’ve really missed those good legs.”
George va obrir la botella, va prendre dos gots, els va omplir la tercera part amb whiskey, i dos terços amb aigua. Es va asseure en el llit al costat de Constance. Ella va prendre un cigarret de la seua bossa i el va encendre. Estava borratxa i les seues mans tremolaven.
-També m’he emportat els seus maleïts diners. Vaig prendre els seus maleïts diners i em vaig anar mentre ell estava en el treball. No saps el que he patit amb aqueix fill de puta.
-Dóna’m un cigarret, va dir George. Ella li’l va passar i en acostar-se a ell, George va posar el seu braç al voltant d’ella, la va atraure cap a ell i la va besar.
-Fill de puta, et vaig trobar a faltar.
-Jo he trobat a faltar aqueixes boniques cames teues, Connie. De veres vaig trobar a faltar les teues boniques cames.
-Encara t’agraden?
-Em pose calent sol de veure-les.
“I could never make it with a college guy,” said Connie. “They’re too soft, they’re milk toast. And he kept his house clean. George, it was like having a maid. He did it all. The place was spotless. You could eat beef stew right off the crapper. He was antiseptic, that’s what he was.”
“Drink up, you’ll feel better.”
“And he couldn’t make love.”
“You mean he couldn’t get it up?”
“Oh he got it up, he got it up all the time. But he didn’t know how to make a woman happy, you know. He didn’t know what to do. All that money, all that education, he was useless.”
“I wish I had a college education.”
“You don’t need one. You have everything you need, George.”
“I’m just a flunky. All the shit jobs.”
-Mai no podré fer-ho amb un xic universitari, va dir Connie. Són tan blans, tan insulsos. I ell mantenia la seua casa neta. George, era com tenir una sirventa. Ho feia tot. El lloc estava immaculat. Un podia menjar estofat directament del fem. Ell era antisèptic, açò és el que era.
-Beu, et sentiràs millor.
-I no podia fer l’amor.
-Vols dir que no se li posava dura?
-Oh, sí que se li posava dura, la tenia dura tot el temps. Però no sabia com fer feliç a una dona, tu saps. No sabia què fer. Tots aqueixos diners, tota aqueixa educació, era un inútil.
-Jo desitjaria haver tingut educació universitària.
-No la necessites. Tu tens tot el que necessites, George.
-Solament sóc un lacai. Tots els treballs de merda.
“I said you have everything you need, George. You know how to make a woman happy.”
“Yeh?”
Look at my pussy. Lick it, suck it.
“Yes. And you know what else? His mother came around! His mother! Two or three times a week. And she’d sit there looking at me, pretending to like me but all the time she was treating me like I was a whore. Like I was a big bad whore stealing her son away from her! Her precious Wallace! Christ! What a mess!” “He claimed he loved me. And I’d say, ‘Look at my pussy, Walter!’ And he wouldn’t look at my pussy. He said, ‘I don’t want to look at that thing.’ That thing! That’s what he called it! You’re not afraid of my pussy, are you, George?”
“It’s never bit me yet.” “But you’ve bit it, you’ve nibbled it, haven’t you George?”
“I suppose I have.”
“And you’ve licked it , sucked it?”
“I suppose so.”
“You know damn well, George, what you’ve done.”
“How much money did you get?”
“Six hundred dollars.”
“I don’t like people who rob other people, Connie.”
“That’s why you’re a fucking dishwasher. You’re honest. But he’s such an idiot, George. And he can afford the money, and I’ve earned it… him and his mother and his love, his other-love, his clean little wash bowls and toilets and disposal bags and breath chasers and after shave lotions and his little hard-ons and his precious lovemaking. All for himself, you understand, all for himself! You know what a woman wants, George.”
-Vaig dir que tens tot el que necessites, George. Saps com fer feliç a una dona.
-Sí?
-Sí. I saps què més? Sa mare venia de visita! Dues o tres vegades a la setmana. I s’asseia ací mirant-me, fent veure que jo li agradava, però tot el temps em tractava com si fóra una puta. Com si fóra una puta dolenta que volia robar-li al seu fill! El seu preciós Wallace! Crist! Que desastre! Ell deia que em volia. I jo deia, “Mira’m el cony, Walter!” I no el mirava. Deia, “No vull veure aqueixa cosa.” Aqueixa cosa! Així el va dir! Tu no li tens por al meu cony, veritat George?
-Encara no m’ha mossegat.
-Però tu l’has mossegat, l’has rosegat, no és així George?
-Supose que sí.
-I l’has llepat, xuclat?
-Supose que sí.
-Ho saps maleïdament bé, George, saps el que has fet.
-Quants diners vas traure?
-Sis-cents dòlars.
-No m’agrada la gent que li roba a una altra gent, Connie.
-Per açò és que eres un fotut rentaplats. Eres honest. Però ell és tan imbècil, George. Pot permetre’s els diners, i jo me’ls he guanyat… ell i sa mare i el seu amor, la seua mare-amor, seus nets bols i banys i bosses d’un sol ús i els seus refrescants d’alè i locions per a després d’afaitar-se i les seues rareses i la seva preciosa forma d’estimar. Tot para ell, ja entens, tot para ell! Tu saps el que una dona vol, George.
I like the way you wear those high heels. They drive me crazy.
“Thanks for the whiskey, Connie. Lemme have another cigarette.”
George filled them up again. “I missed your legs, Connie. I’ve really missed those legs. I like the way you wear those high heels. They drive me crazy. These modern women don’t know what they’re missing. The high heel shapes the calf, the thigh, the ass; it puts rhythm into the walk. It really turns me on!”
“You talk like a poet, George. Sometimes you talk like that. You are one hell of a dishwasher.”
“You know what I’d really like to do?”
“What?”
“I’d like to whip you with my belt on the legs, the ass, the thighs. I’d like to make you quiver and cry and then when you’re quivering and crying I’d slam it into you pure love.”
“I don’t want that, George. You’ve never talked like that to me before. You’ve always done right with me.”
-Gràcies pel whiskey, Connie. Dóna’m un altre cigarret.
George va omplir novament els gots.
-Vaig trobar a faltar les teues cames, Connie. En veritat vaig trobar a faltar aqueixes cames. M’agrada la forma en què uses aqueixes sabates de taló alt. Em tornen boig. Aquestes dones modernes no saben el que es perden. El taló alt accentua el panxell, el maluc, el cul; li posa ritme en caminar. Açò realment m’encén!
-Parles com un poeta, George. En ocasions parles així. Eres tot un senyor rentaplats.
-Saps el que m’agradaria fer?
-Què?
-M’agradaria assotar-te amb el meu cinturó les cames, el cul, els malucs. M’agradaria fer-te tremolar i plorar i quan estigueres tremolant i plorant et bufetejaria amb ell per pur amor.
-No vull açò, George. Mai no m’havies parlat així abans. Sempre has sigut bo amb mi.
“Pull your dress up higher, I want to see more of your legs.”
“Pull your dress up higher.”
“What?”
“Pull your dress up higher, I want to see more of your legs.”
“You like my legs, don’t you, George?”
“Let the light shine on them!”
Constance hiked her dress.
“God Christ, shit,” said George.
“You like my legs?”
“I love your legs!” Then George reached across the bed and slapped Constance hard across the face. Her cigarette flipped out of her mouth.
“what’d you do that for?”
“You fucked Walter! You fucked Walter!”
“So what the hell?”
“So pull your dress up higher!”
“No!”
“Do what I say!” George slapped again, harder. Constance hiked her skirt. “Just up to the panties!” shouted George. “I don’t quite want to see the panties!”
“Christ, George, what’s gone wrong with you?”
“You fucked Walter!”
“George, I swear, you’ve gone crazy. I want to leave. Let me out of here, George!”
“Don’t move or I’ll kill you!”
“You’d kill me?”
“I swear it!” George got up and poured himself a shot of straight whiskey, drank it, and sat down next to Constance. He took the cigarette and held it against her wrist. She screamed. He held it there, firmly, then pulled it away.
“I’d like to whip you with my belt on the legs, the ass, the thighs.”
-Puja’t el vestit.
-Què?
-Puja’t el vestit, vull veure’t més les cames.
-T’agraden les meues cames, veritat, George?
-Deixa que la llum brille en elles!
Constance es va pujar el vestit.
-Déu sant, merda, va dir George.
-T’agraden les meues cames?
-M’encanten les teues cames! Llavors, George es va inclinar en el llit i va bufetejar el rostre de Constance. El cigarret se li va escapar dels llavis.
-Per què has fer això?
-Et vas follar a Walter! Et vas follar a Walter!
-I quins dimonis?
-Així que puja’t més el vestit!
-No!
-Fes el que dic!
George la va bufetejar una altra vegada, més fort. Constance es va pujar la faldilla.
-Puja-la fins a sota les bragues! Va cridar George- En realitat no vull veure les bragues!
-Crist, George, què és el que t’ocorre?
-Vas follar-te a Walter!
-George, per Déu, t’has tornat boig. Vull anar-me’n. Deixa’m eixir d’ací, George!
-No et mogues o et mate!
-Em mataries?
-Ho jure!
George es va posar dempeus i es va servir un glop de whiskey pur, se’l va beure, i es va asseure al costat de Constance. Va prendre el cigarret encès i el va sostenir contra el seu canell. Ella va cridar. Ell el va sostenir fermament i després el va retirar.
“You fucked Walter!”
“I’m a man , baby, understand that?”
“I know you’re a man , George.”
“Here, look at my muscles!” George sat up and flexed both of his arms.
“Beautiful, eh, baby? Look at that muscle! Feel it! Feel it!”
Constance felt one of the arms, then the other.
“Yes, you have a beautiful body, George.”
“I’m a man. I’m a dishwasher but I’m a man, a real man.”
“I know it, George.”
“I’m not the milkshit you left.”
“I know it.”
“And I can sing, too. You ought to hear my voice.”
Constance sat there. George began to sing. He sang “Old man River.” Then he sang “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen.” He sang “The St. Louis Blues.” He Sang “God Bless America,” stopping several times and laughing. Then he sat down next to Constance.
He said, “Connie, you have beautiful legs.”
He asked for another cigarette. He smoked it, drank two more drinks, then put his head down on Connie’s legs, against the stockings, in her lap, and he said, “Connie, I guess I’m no good, I guess I’m crazy, I’m sorry I hit you, I’m sorry I burned you with that cigarette.”
Constance sat there. She ran her fingers through George’s hair, stroking him, soothing him. Soon he was asleep. She waited a while longer. Then she lifted his head and placed it
on the pillow, lifted his legs and straightened them out on the bed. She stood up, walked to the fifth, poured a jolt of good whiskey in to her glass, added a touch of water and drank it sown. She walked to the trailer door, pulled it open, stepped out, closed it. She walked through the backyard, opened the fence gate, walked up the alley under the one o’clock moon. The sky was clear of clouds. The same sky full of clouds was up there. She got out on the boulevard and walked east and reached the entrance of The Blue Mirror. She walked in, and there was Walter sitting alone and drunk at the end of the bar. She walked up and sat down next to him.
“Missed me, baby?” she asked. Walter looked up. He recognized her. He didn’t answer. He looked at the bartender and the bartender walked toward them They all knew each other.
-Sóc un home, xiqueta ho entens?
-Ja sé que eres un home, George.
-Mira els meus músculs! –George es va posar dempeus i va flexionar tots dos braços- Bells, eh, xiqueta? Mira aquest múscul! Sent-lo! Sent-lo!
Constance va tocar un dels braços, després l’altre.
-Sí, tens un cos bell, George.
-Sóc un home. Seré un rentaplats però sóc un home, un home de debò.
-Ho sé, George.
-No sóc el fluix que tu vas deixar.
-Ho sé.
-I també sé cantar. Has de sentir la meua veu.
Constance estava asseguda allí. George va començar a cantar “Old man River.” Després va cantar “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen.”Cantà “The St. Louis Blues.” Cantà “God Bless America,” detenint-se diverses vegades i rient. Després es va asseure al costat de Constance.
-Connie, tens unes cames belles. Va demanar un altre cigarret.
Se’l va fumar, va prendre altres dos glops, després va posar el seu cap en les cames de Connie, sobre les calces, en el seu ventre, i va dir:
-Connie, supose que no sóc bo, supose que estic boig, lamente haver-te colpejat, lamente haver-te cremat amb el cigarret.
Constance estava asseguda allí. Va passar els seus dits pels cabells de George, acariciant-lo, calmant-ho. Molt prompte es va dormir. Ella va esperar una mica més. Després va alçar el seu cap de les seues cames i el va col·locar sobre el coixí, va alçar les seues cames i les va col·locar sobre el llit. Ella es va posar dempeus, va caminar cap a la botella, es va servir un bon glop de whiskey en el seu got, va afegir un toc d’aigua i se’l va beure fins al fons. Va caminar cap a la porta del remolc, la va obrir, va eixir, va tancar. Va caminar pel pati posterior, va obrir la porta de la tanca, va caminar pel carreró sota la lluna de la una del matí. El cel estava clar. El cel ennuvolat també estava ací a dalt. Va eixir cap al boulevard i va caminar cap a l’est i va arribar fins a l’entrada del Blue Mirror. Hi va entrar, i allí estava Walter assegut a soles i borratxo al final de la barra. Va caminar fins a allí i es va asseure al costat d’ell.
-Em vas trobar a faltar, xiquet?- va preguntar ella.
Walter va alçar la vista. La va reconèixer. No va respondre. Mirà al cambrer i el cambrer va caminar cap a ells. Els tres es coneixien bé.
EL CAVALLER DEL CIGNE ciutadà valencià de nació catalana //*// 