Meeting her

             The memories of the crimson tainted sky were encoded into me on that afternoon. That celestial sphere, which I observed on that day had changed, redesigned and shattered everything I thought I knew. On the sixth of August, I met her: the one that awaits us all. It had happened at the site, where the ashes of the once great Aztecan Empire lay, and the site where I was born: Mexico City. This city consists of an array of areas, or colonias ranging from Tepito: a dangerous, unholy and unclean place, too Las Lomas: a place for the rich and their maids, too Santa Fe: a failed attempt to recreate Manhattan, or too La Del Valle: a realm for the calm middle class people (with the typical one or two bad apples that screw it up for everyone.). All of these areas have their own unique stories, tales, or telenovelas to share with the attentive ones. They are built on top of the holy Aztec soil; soil that emits a mysterious and unique scent of ancient wisdom. For this tale though, the stage is neither of them, instead the district for the play is called Tecamachalco. The corner of the city that “Teca” is could be described as an upper class neighborhood, an area which is filled with a ton of Lebanese immigrants: immigrants who had arrived there in the mid twentieth century, with eyes full of hope and faith. Sending me there for a summer was a request made by me during the May of 2004. Due too the difficult, horrible and painful situation that was surrounding my family at that time, my wish got granted in less than a heartbeat. As I recall, upon hearing my request, my mother replied with the following words: “You can go, as you’re too small to see…never mind Danya, you can go.” The positive response of my Mother had erased the desire to question the comment that she didn’t finish.

Let’s jump ahead to the first of June; I am back in the city where I was born and raised, delighted and dazzled by the opportunity to smell, see and feel all of it again. I have gotten lost in the ecstasy of pleasure in an instant. There, I lived in a house that is owned by the parents of my Father’s best friend Mauricio, also a place where I had spent a big chunk of my childhood. The house is located in Tecamachalco and it boasts an elegant, rustic style in the interior, but for some reason the exterior image is quite oblique and opaque. It consists of nothing more than a four-meter wall painted in white, a duo of black garage gates, and a main door made of dark oak wood.

Suddenly, as I began to open my eyes from the nirvana, I was stricken by the realization of the date: twenty-ninth July of 2004 had been read by my eyeballs from the calendar hanging off the wall and needless to say, this realization felt like a thunder bolt sent to me by Zeus. Two and a half months have flown by, and just half of a moon cycle had separated me from the inevitable departure. Later in the midst of August, when the moment to leave home became real in my mind, the hour to head back to Moscow had somewhat haunted me, and the image of me seating myself on a Soviet-made-plane seemed to gloom terribly close by. This was a period when my brain had entered a ring-like-model-of-self-destruction. It went round and round; burning all of my emotional stability on its way, and not forgetting to destroy the state of enlightenment that I’ve come to achieve. Feelings of anxiety, anger and melancholy began to erupt from within my vessel. They had accompanied me for a while. Still, a ray of hope keeps on shining: it was represented through the image of my Grandmother’s smile back in Zelenograd (40 km from Moscow).

On the sixth of August, around noon at the Haneine family residence, a voice coming from upstairs, where the kitchen was located, had announced that lunchtime has arrived. Mrs.Grego (the housekeeper) had summoned everyone at the table, in order to proceed on having lunch. When I heard her voice I rolled my eyes up, and then I took a quick glance at the clock, which indicated two o’clock. Damn, she was right. Then I suddenly heard the phrase “Ka-Meh-Ha…!” and my eyeballs quickly transitioned back to the old TV screen, where I saw Dragon Ball with Goku: the main character performing his best technique to finish a fight against a Super-Villain by the name Frezza. My only thought at that moment was “I have to watch it, Goku you can do it!”. So I decided to imitate the fight displayed on the televisions screen in order to yet again enjoy a scene of my favorite childhood cartoon. Though just during that instant, the door to the room opened up in a frantic way. The Maman of Mauricio appeared through the doorway with a disgusted expression on her face. Her lips started moving as she said in a demanding tone “Dani, what are you doing over there, everyone is waiting for you, let’s go!”. For some reason, I had always been a little afraid of her. So all I could reply to her request was “ Yes Ma’am Sonia”. I then reached for the knob on the TV with my left hand, turned it to the right side. Which in return turned off the old-TV-box. I then headed upstairs, where the Haneine's family usually indulged in suppers or dinners.

I find myself sitting on one of the five wooden chairs. They are placed around the round table, and each one of them has a back holder, armrest and thirty years of usage behind them. The other four chairs are occupied by the members of the Haneine family: Ernesto, the head of the family and the architect of the household and the house itself; Sonia a hero without a doubt, and the mother of 6 children, all with PhD’s; Javier, the fifth in the count of brothers and a business oriented person, and… oh wait…the fifth chair is empty! Where is Mauricio? As I am about to open my lips to ask, I hear Mrs.Grego high pitched voice “Dani, Mauricio is looking for you in his room, your parents are calling, so go, go!”. My eyes must have reflected a spark at that moment, because of the smirk that followed up on Javier's face. He then commented: “Dani, wouldn't you be thinking of not coming back to eat?”. I replied to his comment with a dry voice “ No, I’ll come back with Mauricio. Right after we finish the call Javier, so no worries, everything is splendid” My stomach began filling up with anger infused lava, simply because I got caught. And from everyone possible, it had to be Javier… He saw right through me, as I wanted to use the call as an excuse to ditch lunch, and watch Dragon ball Z. “Whatever”, - I thought to myself. Then I stood up in a quick fashion and took a look at Mrs. Sonia and said “See you in a bit Ma’am Sonia, it won’t take long, I promise.” As I finished saying that, I started moving towards the exit, but not before noticing that Mrs. Sonia had glassy eyes, something I’ve never observed before that day. Even though she smiled as a reply to my words, I felt something forced about the grin she made. Strange… Throwing these thoughts away, in an already lifelong-rehearsed-way I waved my hand as to say “Chiao”, and started heading towards the door that ultimately lead me to her.

 

The exit has leaded me to a wide hall. To the left side of this hall, you could find the kitchen, and to the right side there was only a small restroom. My destination was neither, so I headed forward in a pesto tempo towards the staircases. They lead down, to the main area of the house where the rest of the rooms where located. They have twenty-two staircases and glossy marble flooring. They screamed at me “Slide!” I decided to accept the invitation… “Bup, bup, bup, bup” echoed trough the marble walls, as my back hit the last staircase. I got up quickly, and made a swift move to the right. There I found the door leading to the living room. My hand reached for the handle and turned it. Then my silhouette went through the rest of the house without any hassle as I reached Mauricio’s room in less than a minute.

Tall, thin, with curly-black-hair, such that resembles a poodle, the hands of a virtuoso musician and the charisma of a politician: a depiction is formed and the image of the third son appears… His name is Mauricio Haneine. I see him seated on the second bed that the room has to offer, with his legs crossed and his torso swinging back and forward. By his body language, I conclude that he’s engaged with the conversation on the phone. His right hand is nervously holding up the phone; and his gaze seems to be lost in thoughts and contemplations. Interrupting his conversations is something I never did as a rule, but on that one instance, I overwrote the law, because it concerned me to such a degree. I followed up and said in a cheerful way “Hey Mau, Mrs. Grego told me to come down; is that my Dad or Mom?” to my surprise, the moment he heard my voice his body jolted in what seemed to be a little shock. His reaction baffled me, but before I could analyze it, my mind was interrupted by his voice that was directed towards the black-matte-painted-phone, in to which he said: “Yes, he’s here”. Then his left palm started waving at me, and signaling to come closer. Following his instruction I made the first step towards him. In a sudden flash I heard a symphony from God Morpheus, which delivered a premonition of meeting her. My chest started to burn, ache and shake. It must’ve felt similar to the 1985 earthquake in Mexico City. I try to shake off the hole in the gut, and as I continue advancing towards Mau, the scent of inevitability raises the temperature again. By the time I reach the first bed, my ear hears her voice whispering the sequence of words “destiny of all”. The nervousness causes sweat to fill up my palms and forehead, while the bed on my right-hand-side seems like a perfect escape from her. It is covered with green sheets and accompanied by five cozy pillows on it, and when I reach the edge of it, the omen of destiny increases my shivering by another notch up. My resistance is beaten, and the vibration of the premonition of meeting her, sent by God Morpheus finally defeats me. That reason alone makes my soul start scratching on the walls of my physical being, trying to escape the inevitable. Then the gap that I had to cover begins to stretch like a gum, and the length of a few steps transforms into a trans-Atlantic voyage. “Titanic”, - she whispers then. The whisper faded abruptly, at the moment when I felt the warmth of a big hand embracing my left shoulder. Just then I saw Mauricio, standing there in front of me, with a worried look in his hazel eyes. He then said with a rush “ Dani, your Mom has to talk to you”. He then proceeded to giving me the phone.

I opened my palm, just to once again squeeze it and feel it in my hand. Cutting through the air, my left hand traveled the distance to my ear, and there I heard the eerie sound that all old phones emit; an echo that makes sure to remind you of the distance, and how fragile the connection really is. I then open up with “Hi, Mom how are you, happy to hear that you called. What’s up?”, then the warm and yet nervous voice of my Mom responded “Hi son, I am good, missing you a ton and waiting to see you soon. It’s hard living without you, but that’s not the reason for my call. Danila, listen, I have to tell you something really important, and I want you to concentrate, and hear me out.” In a quick reply I mutter: “Ok, I see…is everything alright?” A five second pause follows up; my veins begin pulsating and with them I start to feel the burn my blood stream running at high-speed trough my body. Then the vocalization by my Mom starts: “Dani, you have to understand, and believe that everything is the way it’s supposed to be. You see, your Grandma is in a better place; she is dead and finally free.” The moment she ends the phrase I loose it; I burst out and start laughing in a maniacal way “Hahahahahahahaha… Are you joking? Right, it’s a joke? Please, Mom, tell me it’s a joke. I mean… I can see the humor, but it’s a little too far, don’t you think!” I keep on giggling while waiting for a response. A few seconds of unbearable silence elapse, and then the articulation of my fears are finally delivered by my Moms voice “Danya, it’s not a joke. It’s the truth, your Grandma is dead.”  My grasp on the phone loosens up as I hear those words. The black matte phone that I was holding on my ear started slipping though my fingers, as if it was covered in butter. When it finally escaped my palm and hit the floor through the forces of gravity, a crack appeared in my soul. My sense of reality began to distort, my breath became chaotic, and I started loosing grasp on everything. All I feel is pain, all I sense is chaos, all I hear is my scream, and all I hate is her Mrs.Death.