Time; I have always believed that it is like a curtain that is slowly drawn, allowing us to see little by little the future, what is happening, what is showing itself. However, it is more what is veiled and the only way to know what comes next is to keep drawing the curtain. No. I do not mean by this that we are beings marked by an inexorable fate. I firmly believe that the future can only be built in the present and that each step we decide to take brings us closer or takes us farther away from the possible future we dare to dream of.
These are the things that haunt Rubens' thoughts as he watches the half-finished cigarette between his fingers; it is almost noon, and everything seems to indicate that Angelina will leave him again in that square. She hates the smell of cigarettes, so for Rubens smoking ends up being a small revenge, his small and vulgar vice to which everyone has the right, as he once read somewhere.
The young man looks at his wristwatch for the umpteenth time, he gets up from his seat while looking at the corner where Angelina was supposed to appear and just at that moment he notices a small figure of a man, very stooped by the years, who advances heavily from that corner towards him, Rubens deduces from the way he moves his cane that he must be blind. The busy place, which at that time of day is full of people leaving offices and schools, completely ignores the old man who tries to navigate diagonally across the square.
Rubens looks at him, looks beyond, towards the corner hoping to see the silhouette of the expected girl, already resigned, he takes a last puff of his cigarette; he hesitates for a moment and decides to approach the old man to help him. It is a man very beaten by the years with very humble and dirty clothes, who walks with great difficulty towards the other end of the square.
Rubens greets him before approaching him to avoid startling him by asking him if he wanted help.
_ Hummm yes, please help me get to the bus stop. Said the old man holding on to the young man's hand as if he knew exactly where he was.
Rubens felt a strong pull that almost caught him unawares and with his strength he managed to hold on to the old man who was already weakening as he moved forward.
_ Sir, here's a bench, you'd better sit down for a moment and rest, and then I will take you to the bus stop.
The old man leaves all his weight in the hand of Rubens who with the other hand must hold him by the waist until he carefully brings him closer to the nearest bench in the square where the obviously exhausted man drops himself.
_ What are you doing there alone, sir? asks Rubens, who has seated himself at the other end of the bench.
The old man's trembling hand leaves the cane to one side to search in one of his pockets for a medical prescription while he tells Rubens
_ I went out to buy these medicines, but I didn't get them.
Rubens takes it, tries to read the contents without much success and with the note still in his hand he asks the old man.
_ Hey, sir, don't you have someone to do this kind of thing for you? as he put the note back in the old man's hand.
_ Well no young man, you see I live alone and nobody helps me. Nobody has time for a blind old man.
Rubens hears this and feels a deep pity for the old man, he glances at his watch and it is already past noon, he keeps silent perhaps because there is not much to say to someone like that old man. The young man resting his elbows on his knees is distracted looking at the statue in the center of the square, up in the sky above them the clouds barely obstruct the inclement April sun.
_ Do you know, boy? We all come into this life with some unique gift, everyone has something special. But there is one gift that is common to all, that gift is time; and paradoxically we would rather waste it than dedicate it to someone else. That's why I thank you for giving me your time.
_ I have plenty of time right now, said the young man, coming out of his abstraction without avoiding thinking about the scolding Angelina had just given him.
_ Good to know, i'll take your word for it.
_ Sure, don't worry said Rubens without knowing what was behind the old man's words.
They resumed the march towards the stop just a little more than a hundred meters away, making the diagonal in the middle of the square, there the advantage of the shelter of the trees does not favor them, the old man tightly gripping Rubens' left hand gasps with every step he takes and for moments seems to lose his balance forcing Rubens to hold him tightly with the other arm. They have been dancing for some time now in this sort of dance where every step forward they seem to take half a step backwards. Rubens is already tired from the enormous effort of keeping up with the old man; he looks at his watch out of the corner of his eye and finds it incredible that they have been walking for more than forty minutes, he feels strangely dizzy and increasingly weaker, he just wants to finish reaching the place they were heading to. It is already impossible for Rubens to support the weight of the old man and he begins to lean more on him. As they get closer to the bus stop, the young man's vision becomes blurred, he feels confused and just wants to finish getting there; Rubens finally falls on the bench of the bus stop totally exhausted, he manages to look at the blurred figure of a young man who hands him a cane before saying goodbye whit a:
_ Thanks for give me your time boy.
Rubens just sits there, with the weight of years on him and blind, trying to remember the name of the girl he was waiting for. Farawell to time; he thought.
This is an original story from @joalheal for The ink well community in their weekly prompt #66: Worry.
photography from Pixabay edited in Canva and Picsart.
Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)
