Gold fish, Kyaw Tun,
Unsplash
El pez dorado permanecía estático en la pecera. De no ser por el ocasional abrir y cerrar de su boca se podría pensar que estaba muerto.
Lo mismo se podía decir de los Rodríguez. Raquíticos y de miradas macilentas, se mantenían echados todo el día, durmiendo o intentando dormir, buscando silenciar el hambre.
Hacía ya dos semanas que no probaban bocado. Sus reservas se habían agotado y el gobierno no se había molestado en enviar ayuda humanitaria en tres meses.
El pueblo moría. Jairo Rodríguez también, y no podía dormir.
Los retortijones estomacales eran cada vez más y más fuertes. Jairo fijó sus ojos vacíos en la pecera al lado de su cama, y puso especial atención en el abrir y cerrar de labios de su amigo Eduardo, el pez dorado. Su único amigo en esos tiempos aciagos.
A veces, cuando se concentraba lo suficiente, Eduardo le hablaba y podían mantener largas e interesantes conversaciones, hasta que el cansancio lo vencía y lograba volverse a dormir.
Estaban en medio de una acalorada discusión sobre quién era más fuerte, si Hulk o Superman, cuando Carla entró a la habitación.
Miró a su esposo con una renovada lucidez y se dirigió a paso lento pero firme hacia la pecera. Jairo solo observaba, asombrado por la determinación de su mujer.
Carla introdujo la mano en la pecera y sacó a Eduardo, quien ni siquiera intentó esquivarla.
Jairo tuvo que hacer un enorme esfuerzo pero al final logró incorporarse.
—¿Qué haces con el pez? —le preguntó a su esposa. A ella nunca le había interesado su diminuto amigo.
Carla no respondió. Se dirigió a la cocina arrastrando los pies y puso a Eduardo en una tabla para picar.
Jairo no podía creer lo que estaba viendo. ¡Carla no podía comerse a su amigo! Era un ser tan sabio y ocurrente... No podía matarlo.
Pero lo hizo. Ante la atónita mirada de Jairo, rajó la diminuta panza de Eduardo y extrajo sus intestinos. Lo lavó y lo echó en la sartén.
Lágrimas amargas corrieron por las hundidas mejillas de Jairo, pero cuando el olor de su amigo frito inundó sus fosas nasales no pudo evitar salivar.
Entonces comió. Comió la diminuta porción de Eduardo que su esposa le sirvió.
Carla lo observaba.
—Ya estaba que se moría —le dijo, mientras se levantaba de la mesa con dificultad.
Jairo la vio alejarse.
«Pero aún no... Aún no se moría», pensó bajando la mirada hacia los restos de su amigo. Lo observó durante un largo tiempo y para su sorpresa, la diminuta mandíbula de Eduardo comenzó a moverse.
—La fuerza de Hulk aumenta hasta el infinito —afirmó Eduardo con su característico tono de sabelotodo—, según la furia que tenga.
Jairo estaba extasiado. Sostuvo a su amigo con delicadeza y se lo llevó de vuelta a su cuarto.
—Superman es alienígena —iba diciendo—. ¡Alienígena, Eduardo!
The goldfish remained static in the tank. If it weren't for the occasional opening and closing of his mouth, you might think he was dead.
The same could be said of the Rodríguez family. Stunted and gawking, they lay there all day, sleeping or trying to sleep, seeking to silence hunger.
It had been two weeks since they had eaten a bite. Their reserves were exhausted and the government had not bothered to send humanitarian aid in three months.
The town was dying. Jairo Rodríguez too, and he can't sleep.
The stomach cramps were getting stronger and stronger. Jairo fixed his empty eyes on the fish tank next to his bed, and paid special attention to the opening and closing of lips of his friend Eduardo, the goldfish. His only friend in those dark times.
Sometimes, when he concentrated enough, Eduardo spoke to him and they could have long and interesting conversations until exhaustion overcame him and he managed to go back to sleep.
They were in the midst of a heated argument over who was stronger, whether Hulk or Superman, when Carla entered the room.
She looked at her husband with renewed clarity and walked slowly but firmly towards the fish tank. Jairo just watched, amazed by his wife's determination.
Carla reached into the tank and pulled out Eduardo, who didn't even try to avoid her.
Jairo had to make an enormous effort but in the end he managed to get up.
"What are you doing with the fish?" He asked his wife. She had never been interested in his tiny friend before.
Carla did not reply. She shuffled to the kitchen and put Eduardo on a chopping board.
Jairo could not believe what he was seeing. Carla can't eat his friend! He was such a wise and witty being... She couldn't kill him.
But she did. Before Jairo's astonished gaze, she slashed Eduardo's tiny belly and extracted his intestines. She washed him and put him in the pan.
Bitter tears ran down Jairo's sunken cheeks, but when the smell of his fried friend flooded his nostrils he couldn't help but salivate.
Then he ate. He ate the tiny portion of Eduardo that his wife served him.
Carla watched him.
"He was already dying," she said, as she got up from the table with difficulty.
Jairo watched her walk away.
But not yet ... He was not yet dying, he thought, looking down at his friend's remains. He watched him for a long time and to his surprise, Eduardo's tiny jaw began to move.
"The Hulk's strength increases to infinity," Eduardo stated with his characteristic know-it-all tone, "depending on how angry he is."
Jairo was ecstatic. He gently held his friend and took him back to his room.
"Superman is an alien," he was saying. “An alien, Eduardo.”