A GOOD QUESTION

Antonín Kosík

 

I want to tell you the story of Ignacio Moreno Aranda. Although the affair is true, the strangest thing is that the person concerned doesn’t know anything about it and that only his natural kindness doesn’t let him deny it altogether. But that’s the way Ignacio is, he prefers not to contradict anyone. And what’s more, he would never have caused to himself and to his guest diner to have the crickets, the lamb chops and the subsequent cigar go the wrong way. Ignacio used to say: “Life is like being in the dentist’s waiting room.” He knows what he’s talking about, because he himself goes to the dentist’s a few times every year and the wait in the waiting room is almost always short. In the morning he goes swimming and does his training, on Sundays he goes on a racing bike from the capital city to Popocatepetl and back, no matter the weather. He skips only if Sunday falls on a Tuesday, because on Tuesday he has another binding commitment.
As it seems very clear from all this, Ignacio has his time duly subdivided into hours and days, and until Tuesday he does not need a watch to know when it is time to eat crickets, lamb chops, white worms and a rare or well-done steak, besides knowing when to go swimming.

Many years ago Ignacio was left by his red-headed girlfriend, Rebeca. Nobody knows why. Nacho did not take the separation well: he skipped his dentist’s appointments, he moved Sundays to Tuesday, he fulfilled Tuesday’s obligations in a very approximate way and in the morning he slept restlessly, when most of the times he lived again the separation from his girlfriend. The separations were even more oppressive, because in the dream Rebeca assumed the most widely varied forms and shapes. Ignacio was afraid to fall asleep. Life did not flow smoothly among crickets, lamb, worms, swimming and Tuesdays, but in a broken way, like a separation after another separation interchangeable with a suitcase, with a silent black woman in a bathing suit, with a talking bicycle, and so on. Past and future for Ignacio started to blend: had he broken up with Rebeca or did he still have to break up with her? Perhaps was the separation only a dream? Did he have to believe his memory? Had he yet to meet Rebeca only to separate from her? Are past and future not the same thing? How can we dream what is awaiting us, when it has already happened? Why live on memories, if all has still to happen? Had he broken up with Rebeca before getting engaged with her? Why is Rebeca transformed in a suitcase or in a giraffe? Is it Sunday that falls on a Tuesday, or Tuesday on a Sunday? Ignacio was on the brink of exhaustion, by the way the thoughts crowded his mind. First of all don’t fall asleep!
“First of all don’t fall asleep!” repeated Ignacio. “I must shake up. The morning to the gym or to the swimming pool, the afternoon lamb or crickets, Sunday hip-hip-hurray all the way to Popocatepetl! Only if it isn’t Tuesday on a Sunday.” he thought, and a suitcase, a talking giraffe and Rebeca started to crowd his mind. Cyclists going the opposite way greeted him from the wall of the room. “Ignacio, come on, pedal hard”. Nacho closed his eyes with his hands and sank even more in the armchair. “Ignacio,” a giant in a white coat with a huge dentist drill was calling him: “I’ll make an appointment for you for last month, I’ll put your broken leg in a plaster. And we will have to drill.” Then in the afternoon a delegation of gymnasts from the gym poked their head out of the wardrobe, while cooking beans for Ignacio and tidying up, besides repeating persistently that he should see a dentist, an eye doctor and a dietician, stressing on the first name of the list.
“Is it possible that the consequence comes before the cause?” asked Ignacio to the dentist the following day. “It is possible.” answered the dentist. “But then the consequence takes on the name of the cause. Prevention is important. It has been a long time since you last came here; if you had come here regularly, now we wouldn’t have to drill. Rinse.” Ignacio rinsed his mouth. “Why wouldn’t we have to drill? If I had come here regularly I would not have met the talking giraffe.” he thought to himself.

Illustrations by Antony Fachin