4. La Fiesta de Fernando y Scott
Así que íbamos con Nacho rumbo a la fiesta de Fer y Scotty. Íbamos en su auto. Porque Nacho tiene auto… y le encanta manejar y no se estresa nada. Nacho es perfecto. ¡O es chongo! Mi gaydar encendió sus luces de alerta. Después de todo, la única vez que lo había visto antes de aquella noche había sido en compañía de una rubia inoportuna. Traté de aclarar sutilmente esta duda cruel: “¿Y tu novia no se molestará por este cambio de planes?”, y mientras preguntaba me arrepentía de todas y de cada una de mis palabras. Nacho pareció no entender. “¿Novia? –preguntó y sonrió- Yo no tengo novia.” ¡Ajá! Algunas alarmas se apagaron, pero yo no estaba conforme. “Ah, como te vi con una rubia, en la disco”, insistí. “¿Ivana? Ella es una amiga”, aclaró. [Consultar sondeo]
Cuando llegamos a Alsina Buenos Aires, ya se encontraba presente la mayoría de los invitados. Las barras estaban habilitadas y la bebida había empezado a correr. Por supuesto, me aseguré de hacer la gran entrada. Si hubiera sabido el móvil del DJ le hubiera pedido It’s Raining men, pero de todas formas la música resonaba en mi cabecita alocada. Nos acercamos a Gabriel, quien había clavado sus ojos en Nacho, pero no podía hablar porque sus mandíbulas se habían trabado en una exagerada apertura. Hice las presentaciones y mi room-mate alcanzó a manotear el brazo de Rodri (su reciente noviecito), quien se sumó a la íntima reunión expresando sus nervios por ser la primera vez que estaba en un lugar gay. Miré a Gabriel con cara de pócker. “Es tan chonguito…”, balbuceó embelezado. “Claro -le respondí- por eso está con vos”. Los sensuales acordes de Dirty Dancing anunciaron la llegada de los novios y distrajeron la mirada asesina de Gabriel.
En cuanto los abrazos lo dejaron respirar un poco, Fernando me preguntó de dónde había sacado ese ejemplar maravilloso, que venía a ser Nacho. Le conté las anécdotas de aquel día, quizá con demasiado detalle, a juzgar por el cambio de su humor. Es que la separación de Paula y Lucas le recordó a la suya con Laura, su ex-mujer. Había sido aquella una muy mala época para Fernando, no sólo por la separación en sí misma, sino también por su consecuencia más cruel: el sufrimiento de Noelia, su hija de 6 años. Como ya había metido la pata, aproveché para desahogar mis angustias y le pregunté si no le daba miedo la posibilidad de que alguna vez también se separara de Scott. “Puede ser… –reconoció- pero, ¿sabés qué?, yo amo a ese tipo –y señaló a Scotty, que se reía con un grupo de amigos- ¿No sería estúpido no tratar de intentarlo?” Las palabras de Fer me tranquilizaron. Alguien que había padecido una separación redoblaba su apuesta por la pareja. ¿Qué impulso nos domina, muchas veces contra todo pronósitco racional, para seguir creyendo en el amor? Le di un respiro a Fer. No quise seguir preguntándole (y preguntándome) por el futuro. Tampoco le pregunté por qué Noelia no había estado presente en el Civil o en la fiesta.
El saludo de Lucas nos sorprendió. Ahí estaba el para nada deprimido abandonador de Paulas, enfundado en un imperdonable traje color beige. “Quiero hacer una confesión entre hombres”, dijo. Fer y yo intercambiamos una rápida y desesperada mirada. “¡Siento como que me quité 20 años de encima! ¡Estoy feliz!” Y nos abrazó. ¡Y además nos palmeó! Y luego se fue a la pista de baile, solo, supongo que a festejar su soledad. “¡Qué desubicado!”, exclamé. “¿Y viste como se vino vestido? Definitivamente no es gay”, bromeó Fer. Yo miré a lo lejos a Nacho y descubrí con alivio que él sí estaba muy bien vestido para la ocasión, a pesar de haber tenido que improvisar. [Consultar sondeo] “¡Es gay! ¡Es gay!”, me dije aparentemente en voz alta porque Fernando me miró extrañado. “No estoy seguro de la sexualidad de Nacho”, confesé. “Lo que no es, se hace”, irrumpió Gabriel con una botella de agua mineral en la mano. “No pienso violarlo”, declaré. “Todo el mundo es gay hasta que no se demuestre lo contrario”, explicó mi room-mate. También se nos unió Scott, quien aportó su pezquisa haciendo notar la manera en que Nacho estaba fumando, allá en la barra. Según el radiante novio americano, Nacho sostenía el cigarrillo con los dedos índice y pulgar, un gesto propio del policial negro francés, más cerca del chongo que de la marica (la cual lo sostendría con el canto de sus dedos índice y mayor, como las divas hollywoodenses de antaño). [Consultar sondeo]
Me dirigí a la barra, mareado de interrogantes y testosterona. Nacho había pedido dos champagnes con jugo de frutilla. Sonreí. [Consultar sondeo] Le conté que mi bebida favorita es el Margarita. Y él me explicó que la suya es la cerveza, pero que el champagne le pareció más apropiado para la ocasión. ¿Cerveza! [Consultar sondeo] De pronto temí que con estos altibajos emocionales no llegaría a los 36. En un intento desesperado por aclarar las cosas le pregunté si quería bailar. Me respondió con una sonrisa, entre tímida y culpable, que no le gusta mucho bailar, que casi nunca baila. Apocalipsis. [Consultar sondeo] Miré a mi alrededor, como buscando ayuda, pero todos mis amigos estaban en la pista. Fer y Scotty bailaban felízmente. También Gabriel, ejecutando movimientos descontrolados (pese al agua mineral). A su lado, Rodri estaba quieto, con los brazos cruzados y con una expresión de pánico estampada sobre su cara. Y Lucas, bueno… Lucas estaba bailando como loco con Grace, la no menos loca hermana de Scott (parece que los Argentineans le íbamos agradando cada vez más).
La que faltaba llegó. Paula se plantó al lado mío. “¡Qué-hacés-acá!”, le dije gesticulando exageradamente. Mi editora había reflexionado sobre el consejo que yo mismo le había dado aquella tarde, por teléfono, y había llegado a la conclusión de que tenía razón, de que Fer y Scotty no merecían pagar por su vida personal. “Andá, Nacho, yo me quedo con Leandro. Mañana tenés que levantarte temprano”, la hermana le dijo al hermano. ¡Pero cómo puede cambiar tantas veces la suerte de una misma noche! Miré a Nacho y Nacho me miró. Los dos parecíamos querer decir algo. No pudimos. Fue Paula quien habló otra vez. “¡Qué-hace-él-en-esta-fiesta!”, y ahora era ella quien gesticulaba exageradamente. Tarde nos dimos cuenta de que Paula se dirigía hacia la pista de baile, más precisamente hacia Lucas y Grace, llevando en la mano uno de nuestros frutichamps. Corrí detrás de ella para impedir la tragedia (o el enchastre). Gritos histéricos de mi editora. Gritos de todos los presentes. Un mix de Technotronic, marcando el increscente ritmo del inevitable escándalo. Yo, cual Kevin Costner en El Guardaespaldas, interponiéndome entre Paula y Lucas. Y un perverso chorro color granate estampándose sobre mi camisa blanca. Todo un símbolo de mi alma herida.
Hice lo que la situación requería. Me fui al baño. Mientras luchaba con el jabón líquido y el manchón, Rodri salió de uno de los cubículos. “Me metí ahí para mear tranquilo porque acá está lleno de putos”, me dijo. Traté de asimilar su declaración y le respondí sin faltar a la verdad: “Claro”. Luego recordé que era su primera vez en un boliche gay y me solidaricé: “No te preocupes, Rodri, vos estás con Gabriel, nadie te va a acosar”. Rodri me miró serio y me aclaró que él no estaba con Gabriel, que simplemente le hacía el aguante porque eran amigos. “Pero pensé que ustedes dos…”, empecé a decir, mientras me daba cuenta de que ya no entendía nada de nada. Por suerte, Rodri me interrumpió con una sentencia demoledora: “Ey, papi, mirá que yo no soy trolo”. Una vez más pude responder con cierta lógica: “Ah”.
Cuando salí del baño me encontré en pleno Carnaval Carioca. A lo lejos alcancé a ver a Paula, conversando tranquilamente con Grace. Parecían haber hecho común causa feminista. Predeciblemente, Lucas ya no estaba. Una cornetita perforó mi tímpano izquierdo. Era Gabriel, con una peluca platinada y orejitas de Gatúbela. “¡Estoy desesperado! –me dijo- ¡Perdí a Rodri!” Le expliqué que estaba en el baño. Gabriel me abrazó y yo, que pensaba que ya nada podía sorprenderme aquella noche, abrí los ojos como para que se me cayeran las córneas. “¡Estoy enamorado, Leandro!”, declaró y se metió al baño. Me alejé hacia la barra. Necesitaba urgente un Frozen Margarita. O dos. Empecé por pedir uno. El bartender me explicó que ya había servido uno para mí, a pedido de “el caballero de la otra punta”. Miré al aludido. Allí estaba Nacho, con un sombrero de graduado y un etetoscopio colgando del cuello. “Se te manchó la camisa”, me dijo. Déjà-vu. Me acerqué a él con mi Margarita. “Esta noche no tengo pañuelo”, me advirtió. ”Pensé que te ibas a ir”, le dije. “Me voy, pero me gustaría que vengas conmigo”. Silencio. Bastante silencio, en realidad. “¿Por qué?”, pregunté finalmente. “Porque lo que empezó siendo un compromiso, lo terminé disfrutando –me dijo y agregó:- Y porque me gustás mucho, Leandro”.
Próximo posteo: viernes 19 de octubre
Las imágenes que aparecen en el vínculo “consultar sondeo” son una creación propia.
4. Fernando & Scott’s Wedding Party
Written by Leandro Fogliatti
Translated by Esteban Rico
So, Nacho and I were going together to Fernando and Scott’s wedding party. We were going in his car. Nacho has a car and he loves to drive and he doesn’t get stressed out at all. He’s perfect. Or maybe he’s straight! My gaydar started ringing an alarm. After all, the only other time I had seen him before, he was with that inappropriate blonde chick. “Wouldn’t your girlfriend be upset by this change of plans?” I subtly asked him in order to start clearing a few things up. As soon as I asked the question, I regretted each and every word I had just said. Nacho didn’t seem to understand, though. “What girlfriend? –he asked and smiled– I don’t have a girlfriend.” Cool! Some of the alarms inside my head went off, but I still wasn’t completely happy with his answer. “Oh, since I saw you with that blonde girl at the disco…” I insisted. “You mean Ivana? Oh, no, she’s just a friend”, he replied. [Check poll]
When we arrived to Alsina Buenos Aires, most of the guests were already there. The bar was already open and the drinks had started to make their way into the attendees. I wasn’t going to waste this opportunity so I made sure to make a Great Entrance. If I had known the DJ’s cell phone number, I would have asked him to play It’s Raining Men for my entrance, but anyway, the music was already thumping inside my crazy little head. We approached Gabriel, who fixed his eyes on Nacho as soon as he saw him. Unfortunately (or luckily, actually) he couldn’t talk because his jaw had just jammed from opening his mouth so wide in surprise at seeing me with such a gorgeous stud beside me. I was quick to introduce them while my roommate reached out for the arm of his new boyfriend, Rodri, who was extremely nervous due to the fact that this was his first time in a gay club. I looked at Gabriel with a straight face. “He’s so straight acting…” he babbled. “Of course he is, that’s why he’s with you”, I snapped. The furious expression on Gabriel’s face instantly changed when the sensual first notes of Dirty Dancing announced the arrival of the newlyweds. Thank God!
As soon as they were able to breathe after all the hugging, Fernando asked me where I had gotten that beautiful specimen, referring to Nacho, of course. I told him about all the things that happened that day, maybe with too many details judging by the fact that his smile was replaced with a frown. It’s just that Lucas and Paula’s separation reminded him of his own divorce to Laura, his ex-wife. That was a really bad time in Fernando’s life, not only due to the separation itself, but because of the cruelest consequence of it all: the misery that his 6 year old daughter, Noelia, had to be put through. Since I had already screwed it, I took advantage of the situation to get some things off of my chest and I asked him if he didn’t fear the possibility of an eventual separation from Scott. “Maybe… –he acknowledged– but you know what? I love this guy –he said while pointing at Scott, who was laughing with a group of friends– Wouldn’t it be stupid if I didn’t give it a try?” Fernando’s words made me feel a lot better. Here was this person who had been through a painful separation and who still believed in love and decided to take his chance on a new relationship. What sort of impulse takes over us, many times against rational thinking, to still believe in love? I gave Fernando a break and I let him go. I didn’t want to keep asking him (or myself) about the future. I also didn’t ask him why Noelia didn’t attend the ceremony or the party.
Suddenly, Lucas appeared out of the crowd. There he was; our very own Paula’s abandoner, without a hint of depression, dressed in a painfully hideous beige suit. “I want to make a confession amongst guys”, he said. Fernando and I exchanged a quick and desperate look. “I feel 20 years younger! I’m happy!” he said while hugging us. He even patted our backs! And then, he escaped to the dance floor alone, with the intention of celebrating his newfound bachelorhood. “What a jerk!” I said angrily. “Did you see the way he’s dressed? He’s definitely straight!” Fernando said jokingly. I took a quick look at Nacho who was at the bar and to my relief, I realized that he was very well dressed for the occasion, in spite of the fact that he basically had to improvise his outfit. [Check poll] “He’s gay! He’s gay!” I said to myself, although I apparently did it out loud because Fernando gave me a weird look. “All right, I’m not sure about Nacho’s sexuality”, I confessed to him. “Well, if he’s not gay, you can always convert him”, interrupted Gabriel with a bottle of water in his hand. “I’m not going to rape him”, I assured him. “Everybody’s gay until proven innocent”, insisted my roommate. Scott joined us to help us figure out my date’s sexuality by analyzing the way Nacho was smoking, over at the bar. According to the radiant American groom, Nacho was holding the cigarette with his index finger and his thumb, a gesture that was typically related to the detectives from those old French movies. That gesture was obviously more butch than sissy (in which case, he would have been holding the cigarette with his index and middle fingers in the style of the old Hollywood divas). [Check poll]
I walked over to the bar, a bit dizzy due to all the doubts and the testosterone excess. Nacho had already ordered two glasses of champagne with strawberry juice. I smiled. [Check poll] I told him that my favorite drink was Margarita, while he said that his favorite was beer; although he thought that champagne was more appropriate for this occasion. Beer?! [Check poll] I suddenly feared that this uncontrollable emotional rollercoaster would kill me before I could reach my 36th birthday. In a desperate attempt to clear things up, I asked him if he wanted to dance. He answered with a smile, part shy and part guilty, and told me he didn’t like to dance, that he barely ever danced. Scandal! [Check poll] I looked around, seeking help, but all my friends were already on the dance floor. Fernando & Scott were dancing together happily. There was also Gabriel, executing his typically exaggerated dance moves (in spite of the mineral water). Next to him, Rodri was standing still, with his arms folded and a frightened look on his face. And Lucas…well… Lucas was dancing like a madman with Grace, Scott’s equally crazy sister (apparently, we “Argentineans” were starting to seem a bit more likeable to her).
Suddenly, I felt a presence standing next to me. It was Paula. “What-are-you-doing-here?” I asked her gesticulating desperately. My editor had thought about the advice I had given her that same afternoon and realized that I was right: Fernando and Scott didn’t have to pay for her personal problems. “Go home, Nacho, I can stay with Leandro now. You have to get up early tomorrow”, Paula told her brother. How could my luck change so many times on the same evening?! I looked at Nacho and Nacho looked at me. We both seemed like we wanted to say something but we couldn’t. It was Paula who spoke again. “What-is-he-doing-here?!” she asked us and now she was the one gesticulating desperately. Before we could do anything, Paula started walking towards the dance floor, more precisely, towards Lucas and Grace while carrying one of our red drinks. I ran behind her trying to avoid a tragedy (or a mess). My editor started screaming hysterically at her soon-to-be ex husband. Suddenly, all of the other guests were screaming as well. Technotronic, was the soundtrack to the inevitable scandal that was happening. And I, just like Kevin Costner in The Bodyguard, decided to stand right between Paula and Lucas to stop them from fighting. Suddenly, a spurt of the red drink fell over my white shirt as the perfect symbol for my wounded soul.
I did what I had to do, which was basically lock myself in the bathroom to try to get rid of the huge red stain. While I struggled with the liquid soap over my delicate white shirt, Rodri came out of one of the stalls. “I got in there so I could pee in peace. This place is full of faggots!” he said while zipping up his pants. While I tried to digest his statement, I responded to him with the easiest and most honest answer that I could find: “Right”. I instantly remembered that this was his first time in a gay club, so I sympathized with him. “Don’t worry about it, Rodri, you’re with Gabriel, nobody is gonna try to grope you or anything”. Rodri looked at me with all seriousness and made perfectly clear that he wasn’t with Gabriel, that he only came with him to the party because he was doing him a favor as a friend. “But I thought you two…” I started to say, while I realized that I didn’t understand what was going on. Luckily, Rodri interrupted me and made it very clear: “Hey dude, I’m not a fag, OK?” One more time, I tried to find the right answer, but all I could articulate was a simple “Oh”.
When I got out of the bathroom, everything was back to normal. I could even see Paula, casually chatting with Grace. Predictably, Lucas was not there anymore. Suddenly, a squeaky voice pierced my delicate eardrum. It was Gabriel. “I’m desperately looking for Rodri! I don’t know where he is!” I told him that he was in the bathroom, though I kept the rest of the details to myself. Gabriel hugged me, and I realized that nothing else that could happen that evening could surprise me anymore. “I’m in love, Leandro!” he said and went into the bathroom. I approached the bar since I urgently needed a Frozen Margarita or two. I started by ordering one to begin with. The bartender told me that I already had one prepared especially for me, courtesy of the “gentleman on the other end of the bar”. I looked up and there was Nacho. “You got a stain on your shirt”, he said as I approached him. It was like déjà-vu. “I’m sorry, I don’t have a handkerchief this time”, he apologized. “I thought you were leaving”, I said sheepishly. “I am, but I want you to come with me”. Silence. Actually, it was a rather long silence before I even dared say anything. “Why?” I finally asked him. “Because this started as a commitment, but I ended up enjoying it –he said and added– And because I like you a lot, Leandro”.
Next post: Friday October 19th
The images in the link “check poll” are self creation.
3. El Civil de Fernando y Scott
La lluvia golpeaba la ventana de la oficina de Paula, mi editora. Y Paula golpeaba contra mi ego literario. “¡Parece que estás escribiendo el diario de una quinceañera!” “¿Realmente hacía falta incluir tu foto?” “¿Tus personajes no saben hacer otra cosa que sonreír?” Paula es una profesional talentosa y por lo tanto exigente, pero aquella mañana parecía estar menstruando lava volcánica. Le recordé que se nos hacía tarde, que teníamos que irnos. “Lucas me dejó”, susurró y se quitó los anteojos. Esto último es gravísimo. Paula nuca se quita los anteojos si no es por algo irresoluble, fatal. Y así llegamos al corazón del volcán. Tras 8 años de matrimonio, Paula había sido abandonada.
Colaboré con lo único que estaba a mi alcance: una caja de pañuelitos descartables que traté de administrar eficientemente, mientras la mirada de mi editora se vaciaba de lágrimas. Era la mirada de una extraña; de una mujer frágil, desamparada, devastada. Nada de eso era Paula. Y sin embargo sólo eso quedaba de ella. “¿Sabés las oportunidades que dejé pasar por esta relación?”, pregunta retórica que no respondí. “¡Yo me jugué por él, Leandro! ¡Me olvidé de mí! ¡Pensé siempre ‘en dos’!” De pronto las relaciones de pareja se me antojaron una apuesta perversa. A medida que pasa el tiempo y dos personas se involucran cada vez más, 
¿será también más grave el daño individual que les provoque una eventual ruptura?
“Esa pretensiosa, lipoaspirada… ¡Merecidamente abandonada…!”, Gabriel detesta esperar. Y encima Paula se había tomado su tiempo para desahogarse y para finalmente decidir no acompañarnos a la Unión Civil de Fernando y Scott. Mientras tanto mi room-mate había estado sentado en un taxi, escuchando al borde del pánico el resumen que el conductor le brindaba acerca del torneo apertura. “¡Vamos a llegar tarde por su culpa!” Que no se malinterprete, por favor. No se trata de que Gabriel sea un apasionado por las bodas. El problema es que los dos seríamos testigos de la Unión. “Tenemos algunos minutos”, traté de tranquilizarlo, “vamos a llegar a tiempo”. Pero transcurridos esos minutos todavía nos encontrábamos detenidos en medio de un caos de tránsito, sitiados por otros taxis y varios colectivos, bajo una lluvia torrencial.
Llegamos tarde. ¡Y empapados! Atravesamos toda la silenciosa sala, escoltados por las severas miradas de familiares y amigos de los novios (me pareció escuchar que la hermana de Scott murmuraba con fastidio: “Argentineans…”), y ocupamos nuestros lugares. Para regocijo de mi editora, no puedo describir ninguna sonrisa que nos recibiera. Scott resopló, Fernando arqueó levemente su ceja izquierda y el Juez carraspeó. Pero no nos sentimos mal por habernos retrasado. Al fin y al cabo no habiendo una novia, nos hicimos esperar las testigas.
La ceremonia comenzó. Yo veía hablar al Juez pero sólo escuchaba las palabras que Paula había dicho aquella mañana. ¿Eran realmente conscientes Fer y Scotty de lo que estaban por firmar? ¿Y yo? ¡Mi testimonio respaldaría esa Unión, que quizás se rompería algún día! ¿Y si efectivamente se separaban? ¿Qué consecuencias sufriría Fernando? ¿Qué le sucedería a Scott? De pronto sentí calor. Empecé a transpirar. La vista se me nubló un poco. “Ahora, los testigos”, anunció el Juez, extendiéndome una lapicera. Miré el Acta. Sólo faltaba mi firma. Debí haber tenido un pico de estrés porque sentí un tirón en el cuello que me hizo soltar la lapicera cuando estaba firmando. Alcancé a ver que Gabriel movía sus labios en silencio. “Bruta”, me pareció que decía.
“Todas las parejas tienen una fecha de vencimiento”, me explicaba Gabriel mientras caminábamos por una vereda cubierta de arroz y de agua de lluvia. “Después de un cierto período de bienestar, las relaciones sufren un inevitable desgaste y hay que elegir: o bien enfrentar la situación y separarse, o bien aguantarse hasta el final.” “¡Eso es horrible!”, exclamé. “Es la realidad y me baso en mis propias experiencias”, 
respondió mi room-mate. “Por ejemplo, con Rodri estamos en una deliciosa etapa de nuestra relación, pero…” Era suficiente. “¿Rodri?”, le pregunté casi gritándole, “¿El chico del súper que conociste hace 15 días? ¡Pero de qué relación me estás hablando!” Gabriel me miró impasible para obsequiarme un cruel golpe bajo: “Estoy hablando de un chico lindo y dulce, que me hace sentir muy bien, y con el que pienso ir esta noche a la fiesta de Fer y Scotty.” Dicho lo cual, se calzó los auriculares de su MP3 para escuchar una vez más la versión de Lauryn Hill de Can’t take my eyes off of you y se alejó victorioso.
La dignidad es lo último que se pierde. Iría a ese casamiento gay acompañado por alguien, aunque sea por una mujer. Llamé a Paula. “¡Se trata del casamiento de Fernando!”, argumenté. “Hace años que trabajan juntos. Te diseñó las mejores tapas de tus libros. Se lo debés.” El problema era que Paula temía encontrarse con Lucas en la fiesta. Así que tuve que ser sincero y desnudar mis intenciones. “También se trata de mí, Paula. No quiero llegar solo. ¡Estoy harto de llegar solo a los casamientos!” Paula terminó cediendo, pero aún así yo quise asegurarme: “Entonces, ¿tenemos un compromiso para esta noche?” Y Paula me dio el sí.
Atardecer de un viernes agitado, básicamente por revolver el ropero. A Fer y Scotty se les había ocurrido organizar una fiesta de gala. Ni Gabriel ni yo solemos recurrir a la alta costura para definir nuestro vestuario, así que nos dimos cuenta tarde de que nos faltaba un accesorio fundamental: una corbata. Gabriel resolvió la situación anudándose un pañuelo de seda color perla que usaba para yirar, a mediados de los ’90. Y yo, después de buscar con mucho esmero, encontré la corbata que había usado cuando egresé del colegio secundario, color rosa con franjas plateadas y negras. ¡Qué mal que nos hicieron los ’80!
Orgullosos de nuestras corbatas, Gabriel y yo nos separamos para recoger a nuestros respectivos acompañantes. Nos reencontraríamos directamente en la fiesta. “No me siento bien, perdoname”, fue la frase elegida por mi editora para romper conmigo a través del portero eléctrico de su edificio. Qué poco había durado nuestro compromiso. “Pero acá está mi hermano, que no le importa acompañarte…”, propuso Paula misericordiosamente. Tanta lástima era insultante. “Dejá, Paula, no se molesten. Voy solo. Ya estoy acostumbrado.” Mientras caminaba en busca de un taxi me aconsejé a mí mismo no involucrarme 
con los editores más allá del trabajo. “¡Leandro!” Me detuve. Esa voz me sonaba familiar. Me volví. “Soy Ignacio, el hermano de Paula.” Él también se detuvo. Los dos nos reconocimos inmediatamente. “Me debés un pañuelo”, me dijo. Sonreí (sí, Paula, sonreí; no hay otro verbo para este momento). “No sabía que Paula tenía un hermano”, le dije. “Se siente mal por no acompañarte. ¿Te parece bien si voy yo en su lugar?” Volví a sonreír.
Próximo posteo: viernes 28 de setiembre, “La Fiesta de Fernando y Scott”
Estas son las fuentes de las imágenes linkeadas (en orden de aparción): “golpeaba” (s/d); “lava volcánica” (www.windows.ucar.edu); “abandonada” (www.kettering.edu); “mirada de una extraña” (knightmanproductions.com); “apuesta perversa” (www.elseptimoarte.net); “esperar” (jordim.files.wordpress.com); “torneo apertura” (www.espacioblog.com); “lluvia torrencial” (www.encaletado.com); “testigas” (www.nuvisystem.com); “MP3” (www.note-i.de); “desnudar mis intenciones” (www.backfocus.info); “sí” (www.conciencia.net ); “nuestro vestuario” (s/d); “romper conmigo” (www.estudio-juridico.cl); “lástima” (www.psicofxp.com); “sonreí” (www.sondasespaciales.com); “volví a sonreir” (creación propia en base a “sonreí”).
3. Fernando & Scott’s Civil Union
Written by Leandro Fogliatti
Translated by Esteban Rico
The rain was hitting the window of my editor’s office and Paula, my editor, was hitting over my literary ego. “This looks like the diary of a 15 year old girl! Did you really need to include your picture in it? Why the hell do your characters have to smile all the freaking time?” Paula is as talented as she is demanding, but on that particular morning she seemed to be menstruating volcanic lava. I reminded her that it was getting late, that we had to get going. “Lucas dumped me”, she whispered while taking off her glasses. This last gesture was a huge deal. Paula never took off her glasses unless something absolutely serious, almost fatal had occurred. And that’s how we got to the bottom of the volcano. After being married for 8 years, Paula had been abandoned by her husband, Lucas.
I tried to help her with what I had in hand; a box of Kleenex that I tried to administer diligently, while my editor’s eyes were dripping with tears. Those eyes were the eyes of a stranger; they were the eyes of a frail, helpless and devastated woman. None of what Paula seemed to be in the years that I’d known her. However, that was what was left of her. “Do you know all the opportunities that I gave up because of this relationship?” she asked me rhetorically. “I devoted my life to him, Leandro! I completely forgot about myself! I had become one of those ‘we’ people that you and I hated so much!” Suddenly, it seemed to me that relationships are some kind of evil bet. As time goes by and people get more and more committed to each other, wouldn’t that cause them even more pain in the case of an eventual break up?
“That pretentious, liposuctioned cow! No wonder her husband got rid of her!” Gabriel hates to wait. To make matters worse, Paula had taken her time to unburden herself and to finally decide not to come with us to Fernando and Scott’s Civil Union ceremony. In the meantime, my roommate had been sitting inside a cab, listening to the driver going on about River Plate, his favorite soccer team. Shock horror! “We’re gonna be late because of her!” Let me get this straight: It’s not that Gabriel is passionate about weddings; the problem was that both of us had been chosen to be the witnesses at the ceremony. “Don’t worry, we still have a few minutes, we’re gonna make it on time”, I said trying to calm him down. But those “few minutes” passed by while we were still trapped in traffic in the pouring rain.
Of course, we were late… and soaking wet! We walked through the crowded (and silent) room followed by the severe look of the grooms’ family and friends (I could even hear Scott’s sister whisper “Argentineans…” with disdain), and we took our places. My editor would have taken comfort in the fact that I saw no one smiling when we arrived. Scott snorted, Fernando slightly lifted his left eyebrow and the Judge cleared his throat, but we didn’t feel bad for being late. After all, since there was no bride to wait for it was us, the witnessettes, who were fashionably late.
Then, the ceremony began. I could see the Judge’s lips move but all I could hear were the words that Paula had said to me earlier that morning. Were Fer & Scotty really aware of what they were about to do? What about me? My testimony would support this Union that might break up some time in the future. What if they eventually split up? What were the consequences that Fernando would suffer? What would happen to Scott? Suddenly, I started feeling hot and I felt the sweat running down my face. I even felt a bit dizzy. “And now, the witnesses”, announced the Judge while handing me a pen. I looked at the certificate and I could see that only my signature was missing. I might have had a small nervous breakdown or something because I felt a strong pain on my neck that made me let go of the pen while I was signing. I caught a glimpse of Gabriel’s lips moving in silence. “Silly cunt”, he appeared to be saying.
“Every couple has an expiration date”, Gabriel said while we walked through a sidewalk covered with rice and rainwater. “After a certain period of comfort, relationships suffer from an inevitable deterioration and that’s when you have two choices: you either face the situation and you break up or you just live in denial ‘til the end”. “That’s awful!” I screamed. “That’s the truth and I’m talking from my own experience”, said my roommate. “For instance, Rodri and I. We’re in a great stage of our relationship, but…” That was more than I could take. “Excuse me? Rodri? Is that the guy that you met in the supermarket two weeks ago? What relationship are you talking about?” I asked him, almost yelling. Gabriel stared at me unemotionally and hit me the cruelest cheap shot; “I’m talking about a really cute and sweet guy who makes me happy and who will be my date at Fer & Scotty’s party tonight.” After saying that, he put the headphones to his mp3 player on to listen to Lauryn Hill’s version of Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You and he walked away victoriously.
They say that “dignity is the last thing you lose”. I was determined to attend that gay wedding with a date, even if it was with a woman. I called Paula to convince her to come with me. “It’s Fernando’s wedding party!” I said to her. “You guys have been working together for years. He designed the best covers for your books. You owe him that!” The problem was that Paula was afraid of running into her soon-to-be ex husband, Lucas, who was also invited to the party. So, I had to be honest with her and tell her what my real intention was. “This is also about me, Paula. I don’t want to go there alone. I’m tired of attending weddings without a date!” Paula finally accepted to be my plus one, but either way I wanted to make sure we had a deal; “So, you do accept to be my date for tonight, right?” To which Paula responded; “I do”.
It was a hard Friday’s night, basically due to all the time we spent going through the stuff in our closet. Fer & Scotty had the brilliant idea of throwing a Black Tie Party. Neither Gabriel nor I are used to resorting to high couture when choosing our clothes, so we realized a little too late that there was one particular article of clothing that we didn’t own: a tie. Gabriel found an easy solution by making a tie out of a silk neck scarf he used to wear while cruising in the mid-90s. Right when I was about to freak out, after looking through the whole apartment, I was able to find the tie that I had worn on my prom; pink with black and silver streaks. Why were the 80s so damn trashy?
Feeling proud of our findings, Gabriel and I split to pick up our respective dates. We’d get together again at the party. “I don’t feel well, I’m sorry”, was the excuse used by my editor to break up with me through the intercom of her building. I was disappointed at how short our commitment turned out to be. “But my brother is here with me and he just offered himself to go with you…” suggested Paula, mercifully. So much pity was just insulting. “That’s OK Paula, don’t bother, I’m going alone. I’m already getting used to it.” While I started walking away from Paula’s building looking for a cab, I advised myself not to get involved with my editor beyond our working relationship. Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice calling my name. “Leandro!” I stopped walking and turned around. “I’m Nacho, Paula’s brother and…” He stopped talking. We both recognized each other immediately. “You owe me a handkerchief”, he said and I smiled (yes, Paula, I smiled; there’s no other verb I can use to describe how I felt at that moment!). “I didn’t know Paula had a brother” I said, trying to act cool. “She feels bad for not going to the party with you. Do you mind if I take her place?” I smiled again.
Next post: Friday September 28th, “Fernando & Scott’s party”
These are the sources of the linked images (in order of appearance): “hitting” (s/d); “volcanic lava” (www.windows.ucar.edu); “abandoned” (www.kettering.edu); “the eyes of a stranger” (knightmanproductions.com); “evil bet” (www.elseptimoarte.net); “wait” (jordim.files.wordpress.com); “River Plate” (www.telecable.es); “pouring rain” (www.encaletado.com); “witnessettes” (www.nuvisystem.com); “mp3” (www.note-i.de); “honest” (www.elpais.com); “I do” (www.conciencia.net ); “clothes” (s/d); “break up with me” (www.estudio-juridico.cl); “pitty” (www.psicofxp.com); “smiled” (www.sondasespaciales.com); “smiled again” (self creation based on “smiled”).