An error of judgment - A short story of weekend-freewrite

zeleiracordero (67)in GEMS • 4 years ago

An error of judgment

"They believe in the absurd, because deep down they know it's more useful than the truth... The meaning of life seems to lose meaning if it is not lived in a struggle to maintain a certain balance between the apparent and the real. If one begins to think, there is so much that is illogical in this world that even the chaotic sliding of a stone that rolls by the force of a man in the opposite direction of the gravity of a slope, who knows that he will not succeed in taking it to the top, but does not cease to insist on trying to climb it anyway".

"Can you imagine that scene?"

"What? The absurd stubbornness of the man who keeps trying to reach his goal, even though everything is against him?"

"Yes... I think there's a kind of poetic justice in that story. To fight, despite having a high probability of failure, is admirable.

"That's what happens to them, as a couple. They're so absurd that they stay together despite the fact that their time has passed and the truth hits them in the face and they don't see it because they think they're predestined to fight relentlessly for a love that has become a habit."

"It sounds cruel and more coming from you, who have been fighting from the outside, together with them. Because you're more than a therapist to them, you got involved beyond the call of duty. What you see in them, you seem to have too."

"You think so? I see them so absurd and I think I got lost in their maze feeling that I got mixed up in this kind of threesome, trying to prove that seeking to light the fire that love has lost, is nothing but attachment."

"In other words, you bring me in as the referee of a game in which you more than anyone else lose, because you are a third party in discord, warming the bench of the substitute, if you are granted a turn."

"I always visited her in the summer, and she used to wear a silky striped dress... Without realizing it, my gaze began to beat like the wind in the movement of her beach dress."

"Your analogy is not accidental, there's a lot of wind in that dalliance you've allowed yourself. A totally inadequate absurdity. If I didn't know you better, I'd say you were very unprofessional, but I admit, given the circumstances, you didn't have it easy."

Unusually, both shared not only the profession, but also a love of penetrating the hidden depths of complicated human relationships. The two complemented each other and, at the same time, diverged on many points. But, basically, they were something like concave and convex, without gross abstractions.

"You know, I brought you here and asked you to help me because when you get to the gates of hell, you need a guide you can trust to decide whether to go forward or backward."

"If you're there, go back. It's not worth getting burned by something nonsensical, is a test of your mettle, to your spirit eager for experiences that touch the boundary between fantasy and reality."

The phone started ringing, it was Rose. Mattew's face changed and she answered in front of Horace, as if to protect herself from the spell of his voice. And, it took effect, seeing itself in the wells of strength of Horace's intelligent gaze, tranquillity invaded his mind, and what once seemed difficult to him, he now accepted as necessary to experience and associate with the sensation of the imminent blow and retreat of the same wave that was lashing the beach of Rose and Arthur, the struggle and surrender to something higher than the truth, an absurd sensation of letting go, of waiting for everything to return to its course.

"Yes, thank you for the reminder, I confirm my presence with a colleague"

"Well, we finally have a chance to share with someone close to you. In so many years, I never asked you why you were always so alone on such a beautiful playground. Arthur will be delighted, he was already weaving conspiracy stories about your constant closeness to us, beyond professional care."

Rose's voice sounded as cold as a dripping stalactite enough to build the wall at the end of their confusion. Mattew never felt her more distant than at the moment when he felt that only he had ridden that kite of illusion, that sense of complicit closeness that made him agitate his spirit making him ungovernable and reluctant to control his mind. He couldn't have felt more absurd and corny, but Horace put it back together with a complicit pat on the shoulder. It was true, it was all due to an excess of encounters, a misunderstood empathy, an error of appreciation.