[A good-looking man on a red polo shirt. He’s fifty, but you’d guess forty. He seems the pragmatic type, missing some deeper emotions.]
It’s so silly when you think about it…
I was eighteen… a friend asked me to go with him on a double date…
The other girl – who wasn’t that attractive I must say – claimed to be a psychic and insisted on reading my palm…. For shit and giggles I guess…
I didn’t believe in those things, but I wasn’t opposed either, or at least I wasn’t back then.
And so she began looking at my palm and telling me all these things about my life, my health, my studies; obvious stuff…
At some moment she turned silent…
I asked her what was going on, but she refused to tell me.
Of course, I insisted…
She then pointed at this line in my palm and said that, one day, I’d meet the love of my life, my true love… but that she would die soon afterwards.
Again, I’m not superstitious, but that prediction obsessed me for a long time
For starters, it made me afraid of falling in love… or more afraid I should say.
And then, on the other hand, those girls I took more seriously… well, those I got disillusioned with after a while… when I saw they weren’t dying.
Then I got over it and, a few years later, I met a girl.
We married.
I was happy, or at least I thought I was.
From time to time, I would remember that silly prediction and laugh at it…. And at myself for half believing it.
Then it happened…
My oldest son had just turned eight… he got invited to a birthday party. My wife couldn’t take him, so I did…
That’s where I saw her for the first time.
Of course I thought she was pretty, beautiful in fact; but you know, I was married…
I swear I don’t remember how we started talking but, before we left that party, I knew I was in love with her, more than I had ever been with anyone else, including my wife.
She gave me her number. I called her and we met… in secret… she was married too.
We discussed a possible relationship; she said she’d think about it…
We kissed but never made love.
The next day she died… car crash.
Did I kill her by loving her?
Or did I decide I loved her just because she died?
My worst fear is that it was all mere chance.”
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Copyright Abel Gonzalez 2016