Anita is looking for a Boyfriend {stories}

 

 

I don't pretend to be loved, like when I was twenty, but at sixty I still haven't lost hope of finding a passionate man. A man who hears me play the piano, applauding my interpretations of Mozart effusively. It would be an even easier thing to take a walk with him along the avenue of elms, breathe in the fresh aroma of the evening, which is usually prodigious at six, and share those simple plans of spending the weekend at the La Alameda hotel.

I would choose a mustard-colored swimsuit to sit and rest in the sand.

We would talk about things such as: That. The other. Lie. TRUE. Lie. You win.

We would buy necklaces with green fruit seeds that the Indians sell, each of us shuddering with the fear of being recognized despite our glasses and our makeup by the young swimmers. Our fans would ask us, from time to time, for autographs. It is no small feat to have written more than twenty love books, to be as famous as Corín Tellado and to be a thirty-year-old heartthrob.

We would sit at one of the hotel's many viewpoints to watch the sunset. All the sunsets are magnificent, but none compares to the one that the sea shows you through the spyglasses. Now the wave above, now the wave below, now the wave covering the rocks, now revealing the stone dagger, and, for its part, the heart that does not stay still, the heart rising and falling to the height of the swallows that break the wind.

Ramon, my last boyfriend, loved my name more than my person. So you are the one who wrote Twenty Kisses for Maria?, he told me that rainy May night while we were trying caviar at the abundant dinner I ordered for two people. We had met at the Los búhos hotel and had sworn to love each other forever. It was quite cold. I swore with tears and vehemence. Ramon had lied to me. He had the sad appearance of an unprotected child; I felt so sorry for him when I saw him, but my pity turned into love as soon as he took me to the wall of the pigeon roof to kiss me on the mouth.

He kissed so well.

Together we wrote a love novel inspired by the famous Empress Sissi. Take that away, take that away, she kept telling me during the painful task of putting together a story. I don't know if her help was valid. The truth is that Felipe moved to France to write literary columns in an important evening newspaper. He thought he had heard the call of the vocation with me. I thought he had taken my manuscript; but he still retained a remnant of minimal decency. My book was intact; However, she had already lost his love.

Aunt Constantina, who is a little over eighty years old, tells me in her last letter that she has fallen in love with a sixteen-year-old young man.

She says that she takes care of him, that she combs his long hair after each bath, that she prepares him a special diet of cereals and toast so that pimples don't appear on his face.

The aunt may be old, very old, but she knows how to wear her eighty years coquettishly, and is even capable of causing scandals when she jumps into the sea waters with her topaz-colored bathing suit. You have to see her, dipping her head in and out of the water like a dolphin, while her strong arms break the waves, quickly bringing her closer to the overseas ship. She has always been so vital.

I would like to fall in love. Manu, the young weightlifter who lives on the 14th floor, looks at me sometimes, or it seems like he looks at me. What has he seen in me? Maybe my definitive will to love, the majesty of my blue eyes and this devilish courage that encourages me to cut down trees without an electric saw. I still have so much to give.

Sometimes I dream that Manu is hidden inside one of the several closets in the house. Precisely, the children's game that I like so much. Suddenly, he appears hanged. Suddenly, dressed in my underwear. Manu is so nice. Like a godson. And I already feel his warm body, next to my body, in bed. Amalia, how beautiful you are, he tells me, untangling the violets from my long hair. And I already dream that we are walking along the avenue of elms, trying to make our way before the copious rain of pigeons taking flight. Manu kisses me on the mouth, telling me nice things that I don't fully understand, but that sweeten my heart.

It's so comforting to dream.

It doesn't matter that he is passing right now with Miriam, the crooked one, on my sidewalk, and smiles at her, and puts flowers in the buttonhole of her dress, and treats her to Nata ice creams, making such a show of it. I'm his girlfriend, and that's it.

 

END

2024 Story by Paya Frank @Blogger

Posted by Paya Frank Freelance Writer and Edito