As the days followed one another, he realized his life was truly empty, and every day felt like a morsel he had to swallow against his will. He was somewhat distant from his friends. It was useless to look for excuses everywhere or to blame someone else. That was how he was made, how he had been raised, with the idea that he belonged to high society and therefore his life had to be restricted.
So what did his family expect of him? They had annoyed him more with their complaints than his monotonous situation did. His friends all seemed tasteless to him, all like identical dolls, with the same thoughts, the same desires for life. That was why he no longer took part in their dinners, because the same jokes in the same aristocratic atmosphere irritated him.
Lost in these thoughts, he got up, deciding that this time he would cross the set boundary, and instead of heading where he was supposed to go, his feet slowly began to guide him out of the house’s tall iron gate. Curious, he wondered, “What if I went out without a car? What could happen to me?” And so he kept walking, amused by this thought. The path he was walking on was a small pedestrian trail through the woods, quite far from the house where he lived. He walked like that for about an hour, enjoying the oxygen-rich air released by the trees and the sweet melody of the birds greeting him, and suddenly he found himself at a crossroads. To the left, he saw an unpaved road that surely led to some village; to the right was the entrance to the city center, while straight ahead was a set destination toward another city. Rooted there in the center of that crossroads and lost in thought, he did not notice a car coming at breakneck speed from the village road, which in a matter of seconds was right in front of him. As he tried to get out of the center of the road to avoid colliding with the car, the car in turn made the same effort to avoid him. Finally, with a strange instinct, he threw himself to one side of the road with all his might, while the car, trying to brake, swerved off the road and fell into a ditch beside him.
Covered in dust, he got up to see if the driver was hurt and approached the car door, which was open but empty inside. From behind him, he heard a voice.
“Well, what were you doing there in the middle of the road, young man?”
Startled, he spun around toward the voice and was amazed by the sight before him. An old woman, in a violet dress with little flowers and holding a parasol, was looking at him with a smile.
“Nothing, I was just walking,” he said, even more surprised.
“And you? Are you hurt?” he continued, thinking it impossible that an old woman like her hadn't suffered even the slightest shock.
“Me? Nooo. I’m fine. But you’ve gotten a bit scratched up. Come on, get in the car so I can treat it.”
And without letting him answer, the old woman pulled him by the sleeve toward her, and they both headed for the car. He didn't even understand how, with one push, the car was back on the road; only that something compelling made him follow the old woman obediently. Her car turned back the way it had come, and a few moments later they found themselves in front of the yard of a house that wasn't very new, and a bit isolated from the others.
They went inside, and after he sat in one of the chairs the old woman offered him, he looked at the furniture in the room, which was much like its owner: old, but comfortable. Behind him, he heard the old woman's footsteps, walking lightly, silently, and she spoke to him softly.
“Now take off your trousers, so I can treat the wound I caused you today,” and she knelt down almost on her knees, holding an aluminum bowl that surely had disinfectant water inside.
Shy by nature as he was, he only rolled his trouser leg up to the wound. The wound was small, but nevertheless, when she cleaned it, it burned as if a hot iron had been pressed against it. With his teeth clenched in pain, he heard the old woman ask him as naturally as if she weren't cleaning a painful wound, but baking a cake.
“Tell me, my son, who is the princess lucky enough to be with you?” and she looked sweetly into his eyes. He felt cornered, because in truth he didn't even have a female friend, let alone a girlfriend. And he remembered how he had terrified the girl his parents had brought over for him to meet. He had staged such a scene
in the morning, so that when she woke up, she would find him hanging in the middle of the room. What was the point of marrying someone without any feelings, just as his parents wanted, simply so he would get married? The poor girl, horrified when she saw that scene, had run outside screaming as loud as she could. Meanwhile, his parents hadn't even moved from the kitchen where they were eating breakfast. They had already learned this tactic of his, how he smoothly chased girls away.
“I don't have anyone at the moment,” he went on, dryly.
The old woman said nothing, but immediately ordered him.
“Get up, come with me today. I was going out for a drive around the city. If you want, come with me too.”
And he followed her, like a lamb following its mother. It seemed more like the old woman leaped into the car, opened the convertible top, tied a scarf around her head, and yeehaw... like a wild horse. Fast again. Even though he found driving with her enthusiastic, he still felt a strange anxiety. The old woman drove the car really fast, the streets changing rapidly while the landscapes looked stunning. What made this scene even more beautiful was the old woman's scarf, fluttering like a flag behind her from the speed of the wind. Eventually, he felt they should brake a little, as they had entered the city streets and it was not only a danger to pedestrians but to themselves, and worst of all, the police could fine them. It wasn't long before he heard the siren of a police car tailing them. “This is all we needed,” he thought, and looked at the old woman, who was enjoying every moment of this madness in the utmost calm.
“Stop!” he shouted at her, thinking she wouldn't hear him over the noise of the car. But the wise old woman turned into a bend to hide from the police, and stopped the car there.
“It's a very good thing you stopped here. Get out of there, I'm driving now,” he said, and immediately jumped to the other side of the car where he opened the door for the old woman, leaving no room for objections.
The old woman obeyed. Driving the car like that, he saw they had reached the top of a hill, from which the sea and the city could be seen below. “How beautiful,” he thought to himself. As if the old woman had read his thoughts, she spoke.
“Stop the car here, I want to rest somewhere around there, because it's very beautiful.”
And the end of that afternoon found them both there, watching the sunset and that wonderful variety of colors.
The days followed one another, and he continued to go and keep the old woman company in secret. He felt happy to have such a sweet, wise friend who made him feel that life was so interesting. As for her, sometimes she would prepare a special meal, sometimes she would talk and listen to the boy about all his heart's sorrows. In the evenings, she would put on some music from her time, and so began the interest and discussion about the famous melody, sometimes followed by a light dance. In these moments, she took the opportunity to teach him the dances she knew. At first, he timidly followed the movements of her feet, but then... when he learned them well, he would ask to dance himself. His parents, seeing this positive turn in their son, were thrilled. “Surely, he has fallen in love with some girl,” they thought, and left him alone in his world where he would disappear for days on end.
One evening, after they had finished eating dinner and he was playing the guitar, the old woman spoke to him.
“Tomorrow is my birthday. I will prepare something nice and we will celebrate it together,” she told him sweetly with a childish smile on her face, and gently stroked his face with her wrinkled hand, soft as cotton. And so, he set off for her birthday, dressed in a suit he wore only on special occasions. “This day was one of those days worth wearing it for,” he thought. The old woman was dressed beautifully too, in a green suit she hadn't worn before, and her face looked as if it were radiating sun crystals. How happy she was when she saw him. They ate dinner as usual, only this time it was a meal cooked with a delicacy and an art all its own. At that moment, he found the opportunity to give her his birthday present. It was an acoustic guitar. Over many nights, the old woman had taught him to play the guitar too, and now was the most beautiful occasion to give her something she valued. She caressed the guitar as if stroking a baby and fell into a melancholy state as she looked at it. Eventually, when they were both tired from singing with the guitar and dancing, the old woman suddenly stopped, took both his hands in hers, and said:
“At midnight tonight, I turn eighty. So, I thought I would leave, my dear.”
Horrified when he heard these words, he asked her immediately.
“Where are you going to leave to?” and he looked at her, all eyes and ears.
“I have taken some pills that will put me to sleep after midnight, and then I want to go. I want to leave this world happy. And I am very happy today. I have lived my life with its ups and downs. So I decided to end it tonight, here.”
“Noooooooooooooooooooooo! You can't leave now,” he cried out, pained and shocked.
“Slow down! Don't shout. I don't want to live any longer, don't you understand? I want to leave happy, and this is the most suitable moment I have been given to leave happy,” she continued, trying to calm and convince him.
“No, no, noooo! No, please, not now. Don't you understand that I love you?” he told her in a nearly stifled voice.
“Veeery goooood. You are feeling something, as you should. Experience every moment of your life, whether it is love or sorrow. Even the pain now shows exactly that you are living. Live your life!” she answered him calmly, softly, and with love. After midnight, the old woman indeed fell into a deep sleep. He knew he would be acting against her wishes, but on the other hand, he wanted to give this “dream” hope to last longer, so he called the hospital.
The ambulance practically snatched the old woman away to the hospital, where they tried to pump her stomach, but in vain. Her heart had gone, happy, to where she wanted; it had gone like a soft, beautiful feather that we see flying lightly in the air, into the endless sky.
Sadder than he had ever been, he went toward his own house. He locked himself in his room, and everything seemed just as before. Dry. Lifeless.
He had slept for almost three days and felt exhausted. Suddenly, his eyes were nearly blinded by the bright light pouring through the windowpanes as his mother pulled back the curtains.
“Wake up, my son. Go out with your friends, they are waiting for you outside. Didn't you arrange with them to go on a picnic today?” she said, pulling back his covers and rubbing his curly blond hair.
“A picnic?” he thought. He was surprised, and didn't understand what his mother was talking about. He got up and craned his neck out the window. He saw two Cadillacs, with some young men and women waiting for him in the yard. He thought about it, and was surprised that he couldn't remember anything. He asked his mother what time he had gone to sleep, and she said, “As always, after dinner.” He still had the old woman's face in his head, and he couldn't find the thread connecting him to her. Could he have had a dream, or seen a movie, or perhaps read a novel? With these thoughts, without saying a word, he got dressed and headed toward the friends who were waiting for him.
When he got out of the car, he still felt the freshness of that morning. He saw with surprise that the place where they had stopped was familiar to him, and slowly, he slipped away from the group and began to walk toward the spot where he “thought” he had sat with the old woman. Down below, the sea looked like a warm pool ready to swim in, and the sun, just like back then, was crystal clear and pure. He sat down nearby, thinking, “It couldn't have been a dream,” and suddenly his eyes caught something shining just below where he was sitting. He pulled it toward him and, to his surprise, recognized the acoustic guitar he had given the old woman for her birthday. He picked it up and held it tightly, as if he were caressing the old woman.
“Wow, you brought your guitar with you?” Some of the young people came over and immediately asked him to play a piece, and he happily began to play the melody the old woman had taught him. Caught up in that joy, surrounded by his friends, he smiled sweetly at them and for the first time understood the meaning of the old woman's last words: “Veeery goooood! Live your life!”
