Giddy up stick pony.

-I hate him -Luis said, fixing his tie in front of the mirror-. You got no idea how much I hate him. I hate being here, hate seeing my relatives, breathe the same air as them, but above all else, I hate remembering my father.

-Stop whining -said his girlfriend, Olvido-. Don’t act like a child.

-I don’t want to. That toy was special to me.

-And that’s why you’re not going to your father’s funeral?

-Darling -Luis reply, looking Olvido straight in the eye-. It’s not about the horse, it’s about everything else he did, or more importantly, the things he didn’t do. He never attended to one of my convivios.

-Surely he got other important things to do.

-Yeah, sure, “important” -Luis frowned, his face suddenly crushed by the weight of the time-. You know what’s first memory? I remember seeing myself in the mirror, the one we place just outside the bathroom. I was playing knights with the giddy up stick pony that my grandfather gave me (he put it on my little hands moments before he closed he’s eyes forever), and in the blink of an eye there I was. Of course, the reflection in the mirror always existed, but until that moment, I never truly recognize myself in it. And then I knew I was something different from everything and everyone else, unique, although I didn’t know how to explain it. I had already been in front of the mirror for several minutes, and my mom taught me to be polite, so I introduce myself… to myself. I said: “Hi, I’m Luis. Nice to meet you, Luis”. You know what memory I will never forget? My father was scolding me for doing subtractions wrong in the kinder. He was yelling at me with all his might that I was useless, so loudly, that it seemed like the veins in his neck were going to burst. He kicked the chair, went to my room and came back with my stick pony in his hands. The wooden body of my trusty little horse barley lasted a few seconds before breaking in half under the incredible strength of my father. His eyes were bloodshot red, and when he look me, I knew he dint only want to break the toy. I was only four. Back in the day, my mom help me with the homework, hidden at night and whispering so as not to wake my father. ¿You know why? Because one time, he heard her helping me. He came out of his room and hit her in the nose, so hard, that he shattered it, and he keep hitting her, over and over. Meanwhile, I was in a corner, scared out of my mind, thinking: “I’m the next”; that he was going to kill her. Six years, six goddamn years, my father told me that I was a waste of time, and that it wasn’t even worth it raising me. And then a good day I graduated, all thanks to my mom, who didn’t stop believing in me for one second. And do you know what she gave me? Another giddy up stick pony! After all those years, she still remembered. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so happy. When we got home that same day, we found my father in the living room drinking a beer. The moment he could see us, he burps like a pig and then walks slowly to where we were. Without a word, he hit my mother, took the horse out of my hands and broke it. Luckily, we didn’t have to endure much more of that ordeal. My mom got divorced, we move out, I did my transition, and then I trained, 24/7 thirty one day a month, seven days a week, because no one was going to put their hands on my mom ever again. The time to hide was over. But it wasn’t until many years later that I herd from my father again, and the feeling was terrifying. One horrible day, that wish i couldn’t remember, a woman i didn’t know reach me on facebook , her name was Lupita. She explained to me that she was a friend of me father, that he was very sick, and asked me if i could send them some money for treatment. I immediately thought it was a scam. “What Illness does he have?” No answer. They don’t respond, so I don’t care. Months later, she contacted me again, but now things have take a dire turn. On the phone, Mrs. Lupita sounded at the verge of tears, confuse and tired, but above all else, she sounded terrified, in a way that can’t be faked. What a fool I was.

-Why?

-She was crying, but out of joy for my father’s improvement, or to beg me to visit him. She wanted me to testify against him at trial. Turns out I was right, it was a scam; he was never sick. The only thing I was wrong about was that she wasn’t part of the plan. When my he realized that I was not going to give him a cent, he miraculously recovered. He keeps harassing Mrs. Lupita with questions, like “Why is my son not helping me?” “Where is the money?” And since Mrs. Lupita did not know my reasons, my father my father became more and more angry. Every time she brought him food, he will throw it on the floor and tell her she was useless. He yelled some nonsense about how she was an awful friend, that she was trying to poison him, and that she was stealing the money I send him. There came a time when my father stole poor Mrs. Lupita’s car and crashed it. The couple in the other car survived without major injuries, but the one-year-old baby in the back, he didn’t make it. My father fled from the scene. He didn’t pay attention to the parents, who were crying out for help. Mexican laws say that the owner of the car is responsible for any accident that occurs with it, even if they were not driving at the time of the accident. Mrs. Lupita had to sell her house to pay for all the damages from an accident she didn’t cause, including the death of a little angel. But my father didn’t stop there, oh no. After the accident, and still on the run, my father found time to harass Mrs. Lupita, her, the only human being who felt compassion for such a monster. Very late at night, he called her and threatened to kidnap her fourteen-year-old daughter, according to him, because she made me think less of him. Can you believe it? He used me as justification. Now Mrs. Lupita was going to be put in jail six years, or with a bail of 50 thousand pesos. And she called me to testify against my father. And I couldn’t show up. I simply couldn’t. The pain, the memories, the guilt, it was all too much. Just thinking about seeing him again made me feel sick, so I didn’t go. I hid in a corner again.

-Darling…

-Please wait, there is one last thing I want to tell you. Many years later, when I already knew you, but I still didn’t like you, I saw my father again. He came to my house and start kicking the door like an animal. My mom advised me not to go out, but I was not going to hide, I was no longer a child, and now I was the strong one. -Luis felt like his ears were exploding, as if a bomb were exploding right next to his head. His hearth was mile an hour, his voice threatened to fade, but he found the strength to continue-. Darling, I went out and hit him. Right in the head, Bam! He flew like a rag doll, his head bouncing on the sidewalk, making the sound of an empty coconut. And I kept hitting him, darling, I kept hitting him with all the wrath I accumulated over the years. I was punching and punching, and even after he stop defending himself, I continued. Say you regret it!, I yelled at him, Say you are sorry. My father had trouble breathing; the blood had turned his smile crimson. Do you know what he replied?

-What? -Olvido asked seriously.

Luis remained silent for a second, as if he surprised himself by hat he was going to say.

-“I did it for your own good.” That was his only explanation. Nothing more. That damn cynic, he was in bones because of malnutrition, broke because he didn’t have a job, bleeding from blows, and yet! He couldn’t admit… He was even smiling. I felt empty, surprised. I don’t know. Somewhere, deep within me, I still hoped that he could change, and be the father I wanted him to be, but no. And then I see it clearly: I didn’t feel better for hitting him, I didn’t feel strong, quite the opposite, I felt disgusted with myself. Because doing that, fixing everything with his fists, is exactly what he would do. In the end, I left him there to his fate. Since then, I never raised my fist against someone ever again, and I will rather die than do so. Because the worst thing he did to me was not the beatings or the insults, it was making me act like him.

Upon finishing his story, Luis Looked as if he have lost everything, and what can you tell to someone who felt like that? What words are powerful enough to fill such a large void? He stared at the mirror. Before: Standing there, with the same black hair, so pure that it had blue highlights; eyes, just like his, sunken and serious; his hands wide and sturdy; and a face, clearly blocky despite the beard. The mirror showed what he hated the most: his own image.

He suddenly felt the sweet touch of a hand on his shoulder, which brought him out of his trance. It was Olvido. She looked at him with sunset eyes. Their shine was the light that split the darkness, her voice was the wind that calmed the storm.

-You are not him.

And although Luis did everything he could, in the end, he started to cry. He felt to his knees, and slowly Olvido embraced him. It was a hug, log and deep, that felt like an ice pack on a bruise.

-We have to go.

-Alright.

And so they dried their tears and walk out the door.

Holding hands, they were ready for whatever this life had in store for them. The sun was higher in the sky than ever before.

*

Many years later, when Luis and Olvido were older and wiser, they had a daughter, Joy, a terrifying little girl. When she was born, she was one of those pink, wrinkled babies that look like a worm larva. Anyone would have said she was ugly, but to her parents, she was the most beautiful thing on the face of the earth. And not only was she beautiful, she was also very especial. The doctors said something about Down syndrome, but Olvido and Luis never paid attention to that little detail.

When Joy turned four years old, her parents gave her something very special: A Giddy up horse! When she laid her eyes on it, the girl jumped and hugged the animal’s stuffed head.She spent the whole day playing cowboys from one side of the house to the other. At that moment, Joy approached her father and said with a huge smile.

-You are good, daddy.

Luis thought that perhaps his daughter had used the wrong words, but no, the girl was sure of what she had said. And so, almost without realizing it, Luis began to cry. What he felt was an emotion that I couldn’t explain; seeing her daughter happy and smiling, and not terrified and afraid. So far from what he had experienced.

From that day on, every time Olvido or Joy gave Luis something, they always wrote him a little card that said: “You are the best dad” followed by: “Are you going to cry?” to mess with him.

The end.

***

SOME LAST WORDS

This is, without a doubt, one of the stories that cost me the most to finish, and not because, it is very complex or innovative, but because writing each word was like unearthing a huge stone stuck in the depths of my being, one that I swallowed a long time ago.