Puri

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I love getting lost among the market stalls; contemplate the chromatic range of food that is presented to me; enjoy the perfect mix between scents of the sea, fruit and spices; get lost in the labyrinthine corridors and find new corners; listening to other people's conversations... It's my routine every Tuesday morning since I retired, and I know it may seem like something very simple, but it never ceases to amaze me what this great sensory pleasure means to me.

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I often spend a couple of hours going through the stalls and buying everything. Today it's already eleven in the morning and I'm still in the fish line. I see Rocío appear at the bakery and I ask the lady behind her to watch my batch for a second.

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   - Rocío! How are you? Do we have bingo today?

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   - Hello Puri, darling! Well, Isabel told me to see if we stay       earlier        today, what do             you   have to do I don't know what for your son or        to go     I don't know where, I have         found on the landing.

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   - So at 4 there? Today I have a hunch. You will see!

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   - Puri, you've been saying the same thing for two weeks... But hey, I wish!

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   - I'll show you darling! – I am moving away from Rocío while        pronounce these                     words because I see my batch arrive. she i        he smiles and walks away             raising his       hand as               fired.

 

When I get home I get ready to make a good broth rice just the way my Juan likes it. He is sitting on the sofa, practically does not move and has his eyes fixed on the television. Another soccer game is reflected on the screen, but Juan no longer remembers how to play soccer. Or maybe he does, but I'd be pleasantly surprised, it's hard sometimes to even remind him who he is, and of course, who I am.

 

I pick up the phone and notice that Carlos still hasn't called me today. I don't know if he will come this afternoon to see his father, he is very busy with his work at Endeka and although I understand him perfectly, there is something in me that knows that my son is not well. I don't want to think that Carlos avoids coming home to see his father like that, but since Juan has started to forget everyone, nobody is interested in him.

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Juan was the perfect man for me, he always gave me love and affection, he took care of me whenever he could and he cooked like a real chef. He never took my wings away, as the husbands of my friends did, he never forbade me to go out and he never let Carlos get lost among bad company. Juan was a good father and a good husband, and although I don't remember him now, I will take care of him as he deserves as long as I am capable of it. I don't know if Carlos will take care of me if in the future I end up just like his father, for Carlos his work is his life, I always tell him to put us in a good residence. In one of those that it seems that everything is parties, massages and games of dominoes. Hopefully with the gang!

I see that Juan licks his lips and smiles after trying his favorite dish, maybe dementia can't make him erase that favorite flavor. As I carefully offer her another spoonful, I try to connect with her insides.

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    - Juan, do you remember me today?

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But Juan only looks at me for a couple of seconds and turns back to the TV. Every time I don't get an affirmative answer to that question, an enormous anguish runs through me that I try to hide at all costs. I don't know what Juan would do if he saw me cry, the last time he started crying too. He begged to go with his mother. What a great pain that your husband doesn't know about you anymore, doesn't depend on you anymore, doesn't even talk to you anymore... Luckily, Aurora comes every day to take care of Juan during the hours that I allow myself to go outside.

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   - Aurora, today I'm going to play bingo, I have an intuition!

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   - Careful lady, be careful with ambition. - Tells me             worried.

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   - Aurora, I am not ambitious, I want money to go with Juan to        a good one            home.       In one of those where I could go out with        my friends or stay there        himself                   playing      chinchón. Know        what is the chinchón?

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   - Yes ma'am, of course! My mom used to play chinchón with her          friends too.

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   - We can try one day and play with Juan, sometimes if you put something in front of him       he interacts with       it unconsciously. Can you believe I gave him a deck of cards the              other day and he got         order them from least to greatest?

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   - Moments of lucidity when there is dementia are rare, but they do exist. Is        It is likely         that at some point he will recognize her again and even talk to her about something                 what     have in common. I was wondering the other day about Carlos, look!

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   - Oh Carlos… My son is too hard-working, Aurora… He doesn't have time to come.      to           see    us, but I don't blame him... I'll settle for one call a day, although he follows me                  costing him to be the one to call us.

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Aurora looks at me compassionately, perhaps unintentionally, but part of it offends me. I have tried all my life to maintain a close relationship with my son, I love him very much and I have always tried to connect with him. But Carlos is stubborn, individualistic and always focused on his own things, on wanting to be perfect, on Endeka prospering. If in the end I won bingo, I would invite him to lunch, I would give him half the prize to invest in his project, but in return I would ask him to come see us more often. And you won't be able to refuse it. You won't be able to leave us again.

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Rocío and Isabel have already set up a couple of cards for the first play, I have been cautious and I only have one in my hands. It contains my favorite numbers: especially 17, the date I married Juan; and the 11th, Carlos's birthday. I look at the phone and there's still no sign of him, nor of Aurora and that calms me down. The man who sings the numbers has already had more than half a hype when Sofía exaggeratedly yells a “LINE!” that deafens us all. Sofía is the perfect client for this place, she is still accompanied by a loaf of bread and a car that were surely the purchase of this morning. I am sad to lose the line, although I am happy for her, I do not lose hope. The game is not over yet. My favorite numbers are already hiding behind the red tile. I only have one number left, 22, the date on which Juan first remembered who we were, that fateful day on which he uttered the hurtful words:

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   - But… who are you?