Twin Souls. Raimon Samsó

Twin Souls - Raimon Samsó


Скачать книгу
That is confidential information, you understand, right?, she said. I understood sure, damn it. And I could imagine a predictable ending: when the exposition ended, that impressionist landscape would be retired by its mysterious buyer. And I would never see Jodie again. Matter closed.

      However, weeks later, on a March evening -one in which caterpillars turn into butterflies- something extraordinary happened. After stopping the car because of a traffic light turning to red, in front of the Sea Palm Restaurant, and through a window, I was able to see the gallery’s painting on the inside. «There you go», I told myself stunned by the coincidence -now a days I don’t believe in chance anymore, but back then I did-. I parked my car, and walked to the door, where a small letter announced: «Staff day off». What I’ve always believed is in bad luck: the place was closed.

      Finally I knew where the painting was, though I didn’t know who had bought it.

      That night I received a new message, which message I would never classify as chance:

       «We get love for every sign of affection we express, and we endure suffering for every prejudice we cause ourselves. With time you will learn that we receive what we issue, and that life -as the tide or surge- brings back what we said, thought and did. That is the way things work. You’ll learn to recognize as currency the same emotion -the same love or the same rage- you expressed. That energy we create or liberate -positive or negative- doesn’t ever disappear, it only gets transformed and reappears again. And most importantly: you will learn to relate your present experiences with the previous ones, you’ll know what kind of relation they keep to one another, and what they show you about yourself. You will discover why whatever happens to you is happening to you. You’ll know the reason for summoned the people that appear in your life. Chance doesn’t exist anymore, neither does chance encounters. You must know it is this way and attribute it to the good of everyone evolved».

      Signed: J.

      As the last one, as the first one.

      My amazement grew because it seemed hard to imagine Javier writing them. I printed and went to bed. When I spoke to him again, I would mention the two messages. I wrote it in a post-it pasted to the screen of my cell phone to remember it.

      Chapter Five

      Impregnated with curiosity and housing certain expectations, I visited the Sea Palms restaurant the next day.

      The place, with its minimalistic décor, harbored certain balance between elegance and design. The lighting seemed warm. And the atmosphere ended up being very pleasant. The painting seemed splendid in one of the walls of the waiting room. During my wait to get a table, I ordered a martini from the bar. I was just about to interrogate a waitress over that matter when a woman approached me from the tables.

      In front of me, smiling and to my utter amazement, Jodie. We saw each other again.

      -Victor! What a huge surprise! I’m happy to see you again – She said hello with a kiss on the cheek and a warm smile. Her happiness seemed sincere. At least she remembered my name I thought.

      We celebrated the encounter. She sat with me at the bar; she joined me with a juice, and almost didn’t let me talk. She said what she did: She administered the restaurant since about two months. She herself had redecorated it. She even had a hand on the dishes offered in the menu. The restaurant took most of her time from mid day to very late at night; but left her time to exercise in the mornings. And, the rest of the day? Always busy. Part of the time in an organization that supported groups for the psychically disabled. She never stopped a minute. And me? What did I do?

      -You know, I do paintings for people who want to cover their walls – I answered – Luckily for me; there are more ugly walls in this world than paintings.

      - I like people that help make this planet a more beautiful place. For my part, in a certain way, I also help to make it more beautiful.

      - I think you do something more important, Jodie. Every time you help those people, you create something more beautiful. You create love in their lives.

      It surprised me how I expressed it but she had a way of leading you into sensibility. Either because of my words or my look, her eyes jumped as if they had recognized me from a distant past.

      - I’m glad you see it that way. I think we’re going to be good friends. Ok, Victor Bruguera, this night you are going to dine like you have never before – she assured me. And when she pronounced my last name she did it with a very funny accent.

      In effect, her choice delighted me very so. Everything was delicious. During the rest of the evening Jodie alternated her duties with visits to my table. She sat three times to keep me company, three. I felt like the luckiest one of the customers. Who wouldn’t want to be in my place?

      When two people don’t know each other, but wish to do so, their lives with all their secrets are a mystery that unravels little by little. That revelation is something fantastic; but when you like what you are discovering, then something happens in your heart. When a man and a woman like each other, the world around them stops, and so they begin a magic filled dance. It’s like opening a small music box in which a small couple dances inside.

      During the conversation, Jodie interrupted me to tell me: Wait. Don’t tell me; let me see if I guess…. And so she closed her eyes and got it right. She loved to play the guessing game, I admit she wasn’t bad. Although I must admit my past is pretty predictable. Or maybe she had gone through something similar. Us humans, we think of ourselves as special, but deep down inside we are very much alike.

      She told me about her family in Boston – wealthy, traditional – where she grew up in a somewhat rigid environment. And pointed: Somewhat is a very generous adjective. Jodie was the youngest of four sisters and also the most nonconformist. Her parents had given up on taming her -Jodie used that exact same word-. So she moved to New York to study psychology to get away from that environment.

      - My profession, as a painter, was also not celebrated in my family with a big party accompanied with fireworks, but they ended up accepting it- I said.

      She wrote an essay – didn’t precise the title- and in that time she participated in programs to aid people with alcohol and drug problems. The degree of commitment she took was so high that her job continued even after work hours. Sometimes, she even had to bail some drug addict in the middle of the night, or keep their mood high – through the phone – to a desperate person.

      - When you help others, their problems and difficulties stop you from drowning in your own ones – everything levels itself. – said Jodie.

      After proving that the chemistry between her and the Big Apple wasn’t working, she came to the west coast, where more and more people occupy themselves with their bodies and spirits, and less with things. In Palo Alto she had been to a brief strategic therapy class and with that completed her psychology major. She centered on the curing of attitude and behavior.

      - I know, people here use stuff and love people. And not the other way around: love things and use people, as it often happens in many places. Is it not like that? – I pointed.

      - So it is. Ok, like I was saying, later an old friend owner of three restaurants – in Santa Monica, Marina del Rey and San Diego – relegated his position. And here I am!

      The flexible schedule allowed her to spend time on her concerns. She added.

      -Which ones? –I wanted to know, I wished to know everything about her. Everything is everything.

      -Living, I’m preoccupied with living. Seems obvious. but it’s not. And above all, I like interaction with people.

      Through human contact, I recognize myself in others. Believe me, there is no better mirror than recognizing ones defects and qualities.

      - Jodie, let me ask you a personal question: Is there a Mr. Wright? Little ones at home, or any of that?

      -No. And a Ms. Bruguera?

      -Not any more. She died


Скачать книгу