"Red Painting" - Philip Guston (1950)
The biggest love gift
The human being has an incredible sensorial memory. Something so pure that it doesn't even link to detailed places or time. Memories define us, they drive almost everything we do, and if we lose track of them, we would be so lost that the one right thing to do is cut our throat and let our emptiness spread in the universe. Just like I'm doing now, as I see the blood flow freely, singing my happiness with such beautiful sound that it would envy all the birds in this world.
Don't misunderstand me, I did fill my soul with memories. Although my childhood was dark, it made me know what love is. And I did forgive and became loyal to my successful life in business. I made my life, my job, my marriage, now free from my madness, anger, my tobacco breath, my sex fantasies, my awful singing, but mostly, my secret love. But you, my dearest reader, you deserve to know it all.
I won't say I had no doubts before driving to that warehouse with my cousin. So many years have passed since I promised him that painting, the one always present in my soul, the one I've spent hundreds of hours trying to decipher and which I love as much as I love him... How could I not be nervous? Yet the feeling of my amulet in my pocket assured me my life was over just around the corner. Everything I'm gonna tell you now is just the path to hell, the beautiful hell.
We parked, and my cousin was still talking about that supplier that changed his price for no reason. My loved one talks too much, and always about our 20-year old business, like he's afraid of hurting me again for touching my feelings for him. Yet even if my impatience is known among our workers, none of them will ever understand how can I find his voice that charming.
The night was cold and creeply dark, but I felt warmth inside me. We entered the warehouse.
-- Why are you bringing me here? - Jason asked
-- Remember that painting I promised you years ago? - I asked firmly, as we walked though the cold corridor
-- Hum... Yes, I thought you sold it to pay Michael's bail, do you still have it? You know... now I think about those times, I knew you could manage to pay it yourself, so that's why I didn't offer to help... But we're good right? You know you can count on me, we've been partners for so long, I wouldn't mind to lend you some money. But again the painting, I had almost forgot about it, I don't even know what painting it is, that's why you brought me here? It's so late!
All that whining and excuses didn't affect me, like they never did. My love for him was just too big, and getting bigger as we approached the end of the corridor. There, a red blanket facing the wall covered my biggest treasure like a woman hiding her body from her lover.
I approached him slowly, as I squeezed my body against his, making sure he could see appreciate my painting until the end. He seemed frightened with surprise, but - i knew it - excited as only I knew he could be. For the first time, he had nothing to say. I started messing with his pants. As many times I did before. I lowered them, feeling his penis getting ready for me. As it did many times before. His silence was unsettling and strange for me, as if through silence he intended to stop my right hand from grabbing my amulet, the amulet I kept from my childhood.
My mint chewing gum, the one kept in my heart since I was truly born. The one I knew would be deadly to him with anaphylactic shock. The cold mint, the cold revenge from years of raping in front of a blank canvas, that for years I painted with the blood of my aborted child!
Tomorrow you'll find us both, in front of the most beautiful painting there is. The painting of love or hate, of devotion or betrayal, of forgiveness or revenge. My memories are void and clear, and my conscience is now free as is my soul, heading to the shimmering gardens of hell.
Written originally in English, for 