I remember it was a Saturday afternoon, Roberto came to visit after two months of not showing up in a town so we went to catch up on the Rambla bar, the one that is in front of the square, a few steps from the municipal building.
Inside there were few people, it was a beautiful summer day and the people of the town were in the spa so when I entered immediately I saw it.
He was a singular type, he was not old but he had white hair and a beard for a couple of days also the same color. A short-brimmed hat a bit ridiculous, at this time no one wore a hat anymore, some farm laborers wear berets but never hats. A long, black cape, frayed by weather and climate, was notable for its intense heat. He was standing in front of the counter waiting for whatever he had asked for to be served.
We sat down with Roberto to wait for us to be attended, we couldn't stop looking at the strange character and the situation became tense when he took off his cape and a sword came into view! In the 21st century nobody uses that, by God, where did this guy come from!
The bartender put a small glass in front of him and poured a white liquor to the top, the stranger drank it in one gulp, took money from his pockets and threw it on the counter, without waiting for anything he turned around and left.
We looked at my friend and said in unison:
–What a weird guy!–
We started talking about our things and forgot about the character, until we returned home.
When we entered through the door I saw my mother and without saying a word I realized that something was not right, she received us with a forced smile and made a nod with her head indicating one of the armchairs in the room, the strange hair character and a white beard were sitting, his back stiff and his gaze absorbed, waiting for us.
–Good afternoon - I said.
–I come to collect a debt –answered.
–I don't know him and I think I don't owe him anything–I replied.
–It is not you but your friend– he said.
–I don't know him either and I don't think I owe him anything –answered Roberto quickly
–The debt belongs to your grandfather and it took me a while but I came to collect it –announced the stranger
–My grandfather died before I was born –asked Roberto amazed
–I'm sorry but you will answer for the debt that he contracted–
Then the stranger did something totally unexpected, got up, touched Roberto's head with one of his hands and left the house.
We never saw him again.
After recovering from the surprise and the bad moment we spent, we spent a long time talking, guessing, trying to guess who that strange man was and what my friend's grandfather owed him. We didn't come to any conclusion except that the man was probably crazy. With the passing of days and when no answer was reached, the matter was forgotten and finally Roberto returned to the city and his work.
A month later Roberto's mother came to see me, her eyes were swollen from crying and she said something that puzzled me, Roberto was sick a brain tumor. He told me that he was leaving his job and going back to town to rest and recover, which he asked me to pick him up at the train station next Friday.
When I saw him I had to make a huge effort not to scream, his physical deterioration was noticeable. Your last month will be overlooked, it's too painful to remember.
On the day of his burial, there was the sun and not a single cloud on the horizon, perhaps he would have preferred it to be cloudy and raining because in that way heartbreaking scenes of immense pain would have been hidden, he was only 22 years old and had a great future.
Several months later we were talking with a couple of friends with whom we formed a group at the school of which Ricardo was also a member, one of them said:
–We never spoke again about the mystery of the strange visitor and his relationship with Ricardo–
And I answered:
–There are things that it is preferable to forget–
Recuerdo que fue un sábado a la tarde, Roberto llegó de visita luego de dos meses de no aparecer por el pueblo así que fuimos a ponernos al día al bar Rambla, ese que está frente a la plaza, a pocos pasos del edificio de la municipalidad.
Adentro había poca gente, era un día hermoso de verano y la gente del pueblo estaba en el balneario por lo que al entrar inmediatamente lo vi.
Era un tipo singular, no era viejo pero tenía el pelo blanco y la barba de un par de días también del mismo color. Un sombrero de ala corta un poco ridículo, en este tiempo ya nadie usaba sombrero, algunos peones del campo llevan boinas pero jamás sombreros. Un capote largo, negro, raído por el tiempo y el clima, destacaba notablemente por el calor intenso. Estaba parado frente al mostrador esperando que le sirvieran lo que fuera que había pedido.
Nos sentamos con Roberto a esperar que nos atendieran, no podíamos dejar de mirar al extraño personaje y la situación se puso tensa cuando se quitó el capote y quedó a la vista una espada! En pleno siglo XXI nadie usa eso ¡por Dios, De donde salió este tipo!
El barman le puso delante un pequeño vaso y sirvió un licor blanco hasta el tope, el desconocido lo bebió de un trago, extrajo dinero de sus bolsillos y lo arrojó sobre el mostrador, sin esperar nada se dio la vuelta y salió.
Nos miramos con mi amigo y dijimos al unísono:
–!Qué persona rara!–
Comenzamos a hablar de nuestras cosas y nos olvidamos del personaje, hasta que volvimos a casa.
Cuando ingresamos por la puerta vi a mi madre y sin que dijera palabra me di cuenta que algo no estaba bien, nos recibió con una sonrisa forzada e hizo un ademán con la cabeza indicándonos uno de los sillones de la sala, el extraño personaje de cabello y barba blanca estaba sentado, con la espalda rígida y la mirada absorta, esperándonos.
–Buenas tardes, Señor–dije.
–Vengo a cobrar una deuda–respondió.
–No lo conozco y creo no deberle nada–repliqué.
–No es a Ud. sino a su amigo–acotó.
–Yo tampoco lo conozco y no creo deberle nada–contestó rápidamente Roberto.
–La deuda es de su abuelo y me he tardado un poco pero he venido a cobrarla–anunció el desconocido.
–Mi abuelo murió antes que yo naciera–dijo asombrado Roberto.
–Lo lamento pero usted responderá por la deuda que el contrajo–
Seguidamente el desconocido hizo algo totalmente inesperado, se levantó, toco con una de sus manos la cabeza de Roberto y salió de casa. Jamás volvimos a verlo.
Luego de reponernos de la sorpresa y el mal momento que pasamos estuvimos largo rato conversando, conjeturando, tratando de adivinar quién era ese extraño hombre y que le debía el abuelo de mi amigo. No llegamos a ninguna conclusión salvo que probablemente el hombre estuviera loco. Con el correr de los días y al no llegar a ninguna respuesta el asunto se fue olvidando y finalmente Roberto volvió a la ciudad y a su trabajo.
Un mes después la madre de Roberto vino a verme, tenía los ojos hinchados de llorar y me comentó algo que me dejó perplejo, Roberto estaba enfermo, un tumor cerebral. Me dijo que dejaba su trabajo y volvía al pueblo para descansar y recuperarse, que me pidió que lo fuera a buscar a la estación de trenes el próximo viernes.
Cuando lo vi tuve que hacer un enorme esfuerzo para no gritar, su deterioro físico era notable. Su último mes lo pasaré por alto, es demasiado doloroso recordarlo.
El día de su entierro había sol y ni una sola nube en el horizonte, quizás hubiera preferido que estuviera nublado y lloviendo porque de esa manera se habrían ocultado escenas desgarradoras de inmenso dolor, tenía tan solo 22 años y un gran futuro.
Varios meses después conversábamos con un par de amigos con los que integramos un grupo en la escuela del cual también formaba parte Ricardo, uno de ellos dijo:
–Jamás volvimos a hablar del misterio del extraño visitante y su relación con Ricardo–
Y yo contesté:
–Hay cosas que es preferible olvidar–
Héctor Gugliermo
@hosgug