Vida Abismal, La Page #5

---

Here's to Madrid!

Next Thursday

we'll go back to Madrid.

l was ignoring that it was

the last day l'd see Chino.

The last day l spoke with him

was the evening of the day

he returned to Madrid.

Not that l don't want to,

but l can't go to Madrid tomorrow.

No. lt's not family. lt's...

A friend's in trouble.

lt's about politics.

l'll tell you later.

See you Thursday afternoon

at the bar.

Ok. Hope you understand.

We'll go another day.

Those were the last words.

Chino didn't show up.

l waited from noon

til 5 in the afternoon.

Next day l went back, but nothing.

Saturday l went by the games.

No-one knew anything.

Sunday l called the place where

we stayed in Madrid.

He wasn't there.

He hadn't come back.

He had my number.

l figured he'd call.

The following Thursday

there was still no news.

5 hours more to wait

For some weeks l went to the games

and asked about him.

-lf you see him, let me know, ok?

-Sure.

-Chino hasn't been around?

-No, he's in Madrid.

Everyone said he was in Madrid.

But where? Playing.

l knew he played.

Why didn't he call?

Did he think my not going with him

was a way of distancing myself?.

After afew months without news,

l gave up.

-Want to play a game?

-No. l'm not up to it.

Normality seeped into my life.

l missed him,

but thought knowing him

had been an adventure,

a matter of circumstance.

Turn the page, l told myself.

34 years later,

fate sent me back

to the previous page,

to a professional game.

l played to win,

not so much the money

as the confidence and conviction

that l was able

to confront my fears.

lt's yours.

l won a lot.

Thank you. lt's been a pleasure.

Alex. You're a champ.

Been ages since l've seen someone

with such luck.

-l had something to prove myself.

-Good.

But never again. lt scares me to win,

especially to a pro.

That's not normal.

You end up losing the same or more.

And if you lose, you'll play again.

l'm afraid

l might become addicted.

Truth is the game brings satisfaction

and misfortune too.

l hate casinos.

And bingo parlors even more.

They're the addiction of the poor.

For me it's too late to fix.

l've been playing more than 40 years.

Do you like the paella?

For curiosity, to know

things about a man

who'd been at the tables

for nearly half a century,

l met him for lunch the next day.

Which players do you like

and which ones do you hate?

Nowadays it's all the same to me,

but throughout life

l've confronted real lunatics.

Vicent of Sueca,

Ximo Sents...

Chino...

Chino?

-You knew Chino?

-A true player.

l met him in Madrid.

We both came from Valncia

and gambled, that made us friends.

He had good luck.

He won a fortune thanks

to the cards and casinos of France.

A rum and... a couple cigars?

No. A little cigar.

l'll give it to you.

A glass of whisky.

-Do you know if he made it to Vegas?

-No idea.

-l'd say he did.

-What do you think?

Real gamblers

have a fixation with Vegas.

Vegas is a common-place.

An amusment park for tourists

and old folks.

Chino would have laughed at them.

He was something...

His life was a novel.

A novel?

No player knows

when it's time to quit.

Man, no player wants to quit.

Chino was special.

He was a little crazy,

self-destructtive

above the normal player.

He didn't feel integrated.

He grew up in an orphanage.

Didn't know his father

and his mother was a prostitute,

he was adopted and returned twice.

He was really proud.

He escaped three times.

The 4th time they didn't find him.

l guess the poor nuns

felt really relieved.

Thanks.

The players interest me

more than the game.

What did Chino have that

other players didn't?

-For me, it was something personal.

-Why?

He was like a brother.

Between the social revolution

and the moral revolt of the time,

he helped me get

from the front lines to the big time.

l even went with him

to Madrid the 1st time.

After, l didn't have any news.

He roped me into swindling the banks.

He tried in Madrid also,

but it didn't turn out.

He fell into the trap

of the moneylenders.

With one who he owed

a lot of money,

he proposed to cancel the debt

with a game of Russian Roulet.

The debtor accepted.

lt was on the outskirts,

near the road to La Corua.

There were 15 or 20 people there.

l didn't go.

l don't like that game.

Gentlemen.

When it was all ready, he took

the initiative in the challenge.

l'll play twice.

First, for the debt.

Then for a million.

A million pesetas between everyone.

lmagine, a guy capable

of playing with his life

twice in the same night

The guys were rubbing their hands.

He still made another request.

One more thing.

lf l die, bury me...

There, in that little forest. Ok?

Typical of him. As if to say,

''l give you a moment of emotion

in your boring lives.

Enjoy Chino.''

He was crazy. He needed

everyone's permanent attention.

Maybe it's what he missed

in childhood.

For months,

in Madrid they spoke of nothing else.

His fame broke the boundaries.

People with money

payed enormous sums

to see Russian Roulet.

l lost contact with him.

The last time l saw him,

he lived in the Ritz.

He'd won a lot of money.

So much.

What need did he have

to play with his life

if he'd won enough

to live with all the comforts?

To know he wouldn't doubt

before the final challenge.

The true size of the abyss.

l ask myself if Chino existed

or if he wasjust the result

of my wayward imagination,

of my desire to betray

a stupid moral,

imbedded like a staple in my mind,

of my childlike insistence

on inventing a paradigm

to protect me from a structured,

mediocre life.

Chino was my god for a long time.

He should still be,

because l am still that coward

affraid to learn

the radical leasons of living

against social conventions.

l'm still useless,

incapable of freeing myself

from the safety of the vulgar

day-to-day.

ln some lush

European forest is buried

the body of a man

destroyed by the routine life.

Of an anguished breed,

a player, a drinker,

a night creature.

Nationality, loser.

Like a marked card.

An abysmal life.

LlFE ON THE EDGE

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes