Yawning helps to open your ears, they say... also chewing a gum or just closing your nose with your fingers and blowing into your closed mouth. But how to unclog your ears when they are clogged with blood?
She was still too stunned from the sudden hit to just be able to think. The heat in her cheek was intense and her jaw made a crunchy sound even when she tried to avoid it, just by murmuring senseless words.
Gustavo watched her from the corner. You could say he was fascinated, ecstatic, feeling his own power. Mireya grabbed the stove to help herself stand up slowly. Why were her legs shaking so much? She still couldn’t find an answer in her head for the question at hand: what did she do this time to provoke the blow? But it was the moment she lifted her arm to move the stripe of hair from her face, when she noticed...her blouse had opened from the fall and her white and soft breast was looking out, naked on the plain cloth, shamelessly reflecting the light of the kitchen.
Gustavo’s eyes wandered there too.
"This is how I like you best. When you are naked and don’t say anything. Stay like that until I say otherwise. You can clean yourself afterwards. Now just don’t annoy me and DO - NOT- CRY! I order you not to cry. Just remember that it is you who provoke me. You make me mad, that’s it. I just get so fucking angry that I have to tell you everything so many times!"
"Just kill me, Gustavo." This Mireya said - with the lowest volume she could put on her voice. "I prefer for you to kill me, rather than become deaf. That is why I don’t hear you."
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you ungrateful piece of shit! I’ve told you so many times: you are no good! You are shit! You don’t even understand what I tell you.”
“Please Gustavo, I’ve asked you to write everything down for me. I swear I won’t forget what you tell me.”
“It is not my job to do you any favors, you stupid bitch! So find a way to change. I won’t kill you and I won’t write you notes. You will just learn to do what I tell you! Period! Even the fucking dogs understand more than you do.”
Gustavo left the kitchen and left her laying there, with her soft white breast just hanging out, her ears clogged with blood, yet not one single tear in her eyes.
After a while, Mireya sighed tiredly. She stood up calmly and thought about all the music that she would never hear again after this morning, while she covered her breast.. And there was that sublime moment when she started creating all that music she remembered, playing in the background of all her childhood memories. Just not to be left alone with the silence.
She started washing the dishes, trying to guess what Gustavo had told her to do. Shit, no idea... But she remembered that that she had to go get the tortillas! So she washed her face; made her hair and left the house without making a sound.
The neighbors didn’t ask anything anymore... they just watched her leave with her bruises and her ugly nose, already crooked from all the previous fractures. And they let her pass, watching her go, feeling all that pity. Mireya didn’t talk to anyone. It just wouldn’t make a difference to explain any of this to them.
And so there she went, Mireya, making up new explanations for the hatred and the vicious behaviour of her husband. When she crossed the street she didn’t see the bus coming around the corner, didn’t hear the honking, the screeching brakes nor the screams from the people on the street. She was that absorbed with controlling the anxiety and deciphering the fear, that she didn’t see Death coming. The bus hit her so hard she landed on the street again almost a block away. Her broken and dismembered body crashed against the newsstand. In one of those ironies life has in store for everyone, her blood splattered over some of the drama comics in the stand called “In the hands of an abusive lover” or “Sleeping with the enemy”.
Mireya didn’t hear the bus coming, didn’t hear the impact, not even heard the breaking of all her bones. She was just hearing her song, playing in her head, tarara...tarara...tarara...“Blow by blow, verse by verse...”....tarara...
She was still too stunned from the sudden hit to just be able to think. The heat in her cheek was intense and her jaw made a crunchy sound even when she tried to avoid it, just by murmuring senseless words.
Gustavo watched her from the corner. You could say he was fascinated, ecstatic, feeling his own power. Mireya grabbed the stove to help herself stand up slowly. Why were her legs shaking so much? She still couldn’t find an answer in her head for the question at hand: what did she do this time to provoke the blow? But it was the moment she lifted her arm to move the stripe of hair from her face, when she noticed...her blouse had opened from the fall and her white and soft breast was looking out, naked on the plain cloth, shamelessly reflecting the light of the kitchen.
Gustavo’s eyes wandered there too.
"This is how I like you best. When you are naked and don’t say anything. Stay like that until I say otherwise. You can clean yourself afterwards. Now just don’t annoy me and DO - NOT- CRY! I order you not to cry. Just remember that it is you who provoke me. You make me mad, that’s it. I just get so fucking angry that I have to tell you everything so many times!"
"Just kill me, Gustavo." This Mireya said - with the lowest volume she could put on her voice. "I prefer for you to kill me, rather than become deaf. That is why I don’t hear you."
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you ungrateful piece of shit! I’ve told you so many times: you are no good! You are shit! You don’t even understand what I tell you.”
“Please Gustavo, I’ve asked you to write everything down for me. I swear I won’t forget what you tell me.”
“It is not my job to do you any favors, you stupid bitch! So find a way to change. I won’t kill you and I won’t write you notes. You will just learn to do what I tell you! Period! Even the fucking dogs understand more than you do.”
Gustavo left the kitchen and left her laying there, with her soft white breast just hanging out, her ears clogged with blood, yet not one single tear in her eyes.
After a while, Mireya sighed tiredly. She stood up calmly and thought about all the music that she would never hear again after this morning, while she covered her breast.. And there was that sublime moment when she started creating all that music she remembered, playing in the background of all her childhood memories. Just not to be left alone with the silence.
She started washing the dishes, trying to guess what Gustavo had told her to do. Shit, no idea... But she remembered that that she had to go get the tortillas! So she washed her face; made her hair and left the house without making a sound.
The neighbors didn’t ask anything anymore... they just watched her leave with her bruises and her ugly nose, already crooked from all the previous fractures. And they let her pass, watching her go, feeling all that pity. Mireya didn’t talk to anyone. It just wouldn’t make a difference to explain any of this to them.
And so there she went, Mireya, making up new explanations for the hatred and the vicious behaviour of her husband. When she crossed the street she didn’t see the bus coming around the corner, didn’t hear the honking, the screeching brakes nor the screams from the people on the street. She was that absorbed with controlling the anxiety and deciphering the fear, that she didn’t see Death coming. The bus hit her so hard she landed on the street again almost a block away. Her broken and dismembered body crashed against the newsstand. In one of those ironies life has in store for everyone, her blood splattered over some of the drama comics in the stand called “In the hands of an abusive lover” or “Sleeping with the enemy”.
Mireya didn’t hear the bus coming, didn’t hear the impact, not even heard the breaking of all her bones. She was just hearing her song, playing in her head, tarara...tarara...tarara...“Blow by blow, verse by verse...”....tarara...
Special thanks to Masi Kriegs who helped me translate the original "Golpe a golpe", also available in this blog
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