Lost in waves (collection of sex, drama and love stories) by Marcelo Galban (black books to read .txt) 📕

Minutes later, Mrs. Jones got off the plane, walked through a tunnel that seemed to float in the air, and when she left the airport, the automatic doors closed behind her and an icy wind made her skin crawl; She was wearing only a light white cotton dress, with orange flower patterns, and a shawl. It was all she had managed to grab before leaving her house. She hadn't thought about the cold, or she had thought about it and didn't care. Immediately, she approached a taxi that was parked waiting for passengers, and Mrs. Jones leaned down a little to see the driver's face. He was a chubby man with thick black mustaches. Take me to the boardwalk, she said. The driver looked at her for a few seconds, saw her without a coat in the middle of winter, and something made him think that, consequently, she would not have the money for the trip; but then he took a better look, and finally the driver pressed a button to unlock the back door of the taxi to allow her to get on.

Both traveled in silence, down a graceless path that slowly began to surround some houses and then buildings, and about half an hour later they reached the place that Mrs. Jones had indicated. On one side of the street, the immense brick construction of the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino, and on the other, a very wide sidewalk, from where you could see the beach and the sea. The driver stopped the march, and prepared to wait. He believed that the passenger just wanted to see the beach empty of people, the sand blowing because of the wind, the waves breaking near the shore, and that after a few moments she would announce a new direction; then the driver would take her to the hotel where she would have made a reservation, where she could take refuge from the cold of winter and take off her travel clothes, eat something in the room and finally stand under the hot threads of a shower. But Mrs. Jones looked at the price she had to pay in the electronic device that marked the cost of the trip and gave the driver the money. Then she got out of the taxi, closed the door and stood motionless for a few seconds next to the car; It was difficult for her to adapt to the cold, to the wind that cut her face and tried to steal the scarf that was going crazy around her neck. Despite everything, despite the wind and cold, Mrs. Jones crossed the promenade and began to walk towards the beach.

     She felt her shoes sink into the sand, but she kept going, taking off her scarf and watching it fly in the wind. Then she took off her dress, which she left lying on the sand. And without stopping, she took off her bra too, and then the rest of her underwear. Finally, she took off her shoes. In her hand hung her purse, the only thing left in the world now. She stopped when the wind brought a salty air that soaked her face, and suddenly the roar of the sea deafened her own inner voice, as if the sea were warning her of the danger she was running. Mrs. Jones rested her bag on the sand, and took the picture frame where the photo of Oliver was. For the first time in her life she removed the photo from the picture frame, and held it in her hands for a few moments. Then she closed her eyes, moved her lips to say something, and pressed it against her chest. Then she took a few more steps toward the sea, away from the world that was forever behind her, and she felt so light that for a moment she was afraid that the wind would lift her into the air. Mrs. Jones was moving away from the years she had lived in Greenfields, from the insults in silence, from the memory of Oliver that still ran through her blood. The foam of the waves touched her feet, a tremendous roar now exploded in her ears, and a cold, salty breeze enveloped her skin. Naked as she was, Mrs. Jones looked around her, and saw Oliver, naked too, standing next to her. And she smiled at him, the image became translucent until it disappeared.

   At some point, the cold began to be unbearable, thousands of needles stuck in her feet, so Mrs. Jones took one more step toward the sea, and then another, and now the icy water was at times reaching her knees, then her hips, and then the icy water covered her chest and wet her mouth. The taxi driver had gotten out of the car, he was following the scene with his eyes in the distance, and when he saw her take off her clothes and enter the sea, he did not hesitate for a second. He ran to his car and grabbed his cell phone to call the police. Minutes later, when he saw the sirens of a patrol car in his rear view mirror, the driver left.

     When the police arrived, the police officers got off the patrol car and ran towards the beach, but they only found a dress, and further on some shoes, and near the shore a bag along with an empty picture frame. Some colors danced in the air, these came and went over these two cops, moved with the grace of a bird that knows how to handle the wind; the handkerchief floated as if it were alive, as if it were that silk spirit that had accompanied Mrs. Jones all this time. The policemen approached a little more towards the sea, and saw something between the waves that caught their attention.

     Mrs. Jones felt her whole body under the water, she endured the burning in her eyes, the salty water in her mouth, the force of the water that was pushing her down, away from the surface. And she allowed herself to be carried away, without offering the slightest resistance, and a strange sense of tranquility washed over her completely. She was there, so far from the world now, being herself, so herself in that instant, that she opened her hand, then, to let the photo of Oliver slip through her fingers. Until a moment later, she knew it was enough. As she could, she made the enormous effort to reach the surface, she managed to lift her head out of the water and let new air enter her lungs. She saw the glare of the sun behind the dark clouds, and she took a few more strokes, and then another, and thus, with great difficulty, she began to climb out of the water. The cold had numbed her muscles and her skin had turned purple. She barely had the strength left to stand up. The stunned police officers saw her come out of the water, stumble and fall to her knees. The picture frame had been left empty, abandoned on the beach, and was already covered in sand.