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    The still of the night: Santiago’s crying

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    In the still of the night Santiagos crying cut sharply like a knife. Hiscrying was relentless, as though it would never end but then, a child of threeknows no other way to express his horror. Abraham Naser walked down the narrowstreet made of hardened earth and nothing more. His dress was pure class, whiteblazer and pants with matching wide brimmed hat.

    Lost in thought he rolled hiscigar between his lips, then, as if in a motion as natural to him as histendency to smile at beautiful women, he adjusted his gun stuffed tightly in theback of his waist bond. It was then when Abraham ran into the women he knewwould change his life; the women who would be his wife Arabic coffee tasted forthe first tome is surpassing and strong, but soon, it turns soothing and sweet. Placida Lineros head snapped back at her first taste, and they both laughed. Their eyes spore of there long future from across the small round table. The caféhad been Abrahams idea, but it was now Placida who didnt want the momentto end, ever.

    Walking down the isle had been Placida dream since she was alittle girl. In Spain girls are brought up to make mariace a priority. ForAbraham, on the other hand, an Arab male of wealth turn of the century Spain,life had always meant just the opposite. A man of festivities, of party andcelebration, Abraham loved his boos, cigars, and women.

    And not necessary inthat order. He felt and, not a beginning to his life. Placida was a spark oflight, beauty able to contain her joy news spilled like a flood. Abraham findshe is happier than he had ever been, but battle with the confession of hischanging life.

    In his excitement, Abraham rushed out to the baby store. There, abeautiful radon haired young women, eyes blue then the sea, assists him inselecting a crib of finished wood and white lace. The celebration that nightwill be remembered for all time. The drinking, the smoking, the guilt, theself-loathing and the broken promise. He could not explain even to himself howanother chance meeting¾with the young women from the baby store¾ nowstood to destroy his life. How could he have been so foolish he asked himself?How? In the nine months before Santiago was born, Abraham, could not come tounderstand his motivation for braeing his marriage promise again and again.

    Perhaps he was just self destructive, maybe his problem was psychological, ormaybe, he was just bad person. The guilt drove him and his confusion grew at thesame rate that the finishing in the babys room did. A comment from Placidahad brought if all crashing down inside his head. Her joking voice ” you arethe same old Abraham. ” What did you do, marry the owners daughter.

    Where haveall these things come from?” His blood had run cold, and he felt himselfperspire, but the moment passed. The night Santiago came two were born; son andfather. Before he could reclaim his word, his admission that was more like aconfession, jumped from his mouth. Over his son he cried for forgiveness from awomen whose face was a slate of emotion. “I have known.

    ” She exclaimsreaching and touching his cheek. Stunned. ” How? ” He stuttered ” for howlong?” ” Long enough. ” ” Ill never ever see her again. Never. Ipromise,” he begged.

    ” I know, I know,” she seemed to dismiss ” justlook at our son. Isnt he beautiful” At three years old eating an ice creamwithout weaning most of it is not only a challenge, its a fantasy. The hotsun made all of their smile gimer, the park was crowed, but to the three of themAbraham, Placida and Santiago not another soul exited on the face of the earth. They walked over the little bridles of white woods, holding hands in a chain oflove. A family, a family with the sound of the last shot.

    Still ringing in hisears, Santiago crys in horror. From the foot of the bed Placida rocks Santiagoin her arms as his father and his lover lay dying in the bed solid silk. “Ssshh, ssshh. I know I know.”

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    The still of the night: Santiago’s crying. (2019, Jan 05). Retrieved from https://artscolumbia.org/santiago-essay-66082/

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