English
The savior?
"Move along, you vermin. Is that cross too heavy? Haha." The soldier was whipping the whip to the ground.
The emaciated condemned man walked slowly, while he saw those faces that he once helped, but now look at without doing anything. Some look on with sadness, but without much desire to help due to the circumstances. Others just watch the walking corpse pass by with indifference. A few dare to weakly condemn injustice...
"Wake up, lazy, the work is piling up and you haven't done," the supervisor was calling the Henry's attention. "This is the last time I will draw your attention. I'll report it to the manager next time. Did you understand?"
"I just can't sleep well..." Henry was beginning to tremble.
"Look, Henry, I'm not interested in your life. Just do your job." The supervisor turned around and left the cubicle.
Henry was typing again and fixing his sleepy brown eyes on the screen. At that moment, a colleague came in to see Henry.
"Hey, how hard the supervisor was with you, I felt like shutting him up with an insult, he believes a lot because he is the manager's nephew. You are a good employee who does his job. That's an asshole."
"He found me asleep. I think he's right." Henry let out a sigh. "I have a problem..."
"What's wrong, friend?" The companion was patting Henry's back. "But first, can I ask you a favor?"
"Tell me, Dustin." Henry was staring at him.
"Can you lend me money? I just don't have enough for lunch." Dustin was showing a sad gesture.
Henry was nodding his head and pulling some bills out of his pocket. Dustin was smiling and running out of the cubicle. Henry returned to work without removing from his mind what had worried him. The day passed quickly, and the sunset took over the city, while he was on the bus to his apartment, sleep came back to take over him...
"Walk, walk, you vermin. I don't have all day." The whip emitted that dull, loud sound when it collided with the cross.
The cobbled path led up to the mountain. The emaciated man's eyes looked at that path with anguish, his strength seemed to abandon him and that cross became heavier and heavier as time passed. The eyes of those people kept seeing the pitiful scene, but no one was doing anything, everyone was thinking about themselves. They didn't want to have problems. The man on the cross was silent and the women let out plaintive sounds. The weight of the cross overcame the man and he was left lying on that cobbled path.
"Get up, you scoundrel, get up." The soldier was moving the man with his foot…
A soft and melodious sound filtered through Henry's ears, he opened his eyes and the blue lights of the bus annoyed him. Henry rubbed his eyes and picked up his cell phone that kept ringing insistently. He was swiping his finger on the green icon and a voice with an urgent tone sounded through the speaker.
"Henry, the hospital called. Our mother became very ill and they asked a relative to come quickly." The woman sounded upset.
"I'm on my way, Susan!" Henry ran out of the bus and took a taxi.
The minutes passed slowly like a torture, while Henry's head seemed to explode between emotions and feelings that squeezed his heart. After a few minutes, he arrived at the hospital and the huge building was welcoming him with melancholy colors. The glass doors were opening wide. A guard was receiving the distressed man.
"Good evening. They called me from here to say that my mother was very serious."
"The patient's name." The security guard was taking out a notebook.
"Irene Sinclair." Henry was looking intently at the man.
"Come in, you know which room the patient is in, right?"
Henry nodded and ran quickly, as he climbed the steps he felt that his heart was going to leave his chest, thousands of thoughts were passing through his head like scenes from old movies. That journey to the intensive care unit became eternal and seemed to have no end. After a few minutes, he came to the room and through the window he saw his mother connected to several machines. The doctor was coming out to talk to Henry.
"Good evening, Mr. Henry, I inform you that your mother has only a few hours left. You can come in and say goodbye." The doctor was patting him on the back.
Henry felt his world was collapsing and he fell down fainting. The shadows invaded his being...
"Walk, asshole." The centurion was whipping the whip.
From the crowd, a man came running with a little water for the exhausted condemned man. He gave him a drink and the man took up the heavy cross. He carried that heavy piece of wood up the mountain, while the condemned man walked slowly.
The man dropped the heavy cross at the indicated place. The condemned man approached and despite his haggard countenance, a gentle look could be perceived in those honey-colored eyes.
"Thank you for carrying my cross, but you cannot avoid my fate. That's the way it is in life, you can carry many crosses, some ungrateful, some dear, some envious, some unknown and the weight will eat away at you, but in the end you can't avoid the fate of each cross. You're no savior, Henry, remember that." The condemned man was pushed by the centurion.
Henry tried to help, but he was hit by a soldier and lost consciousness...
"Mr. Henry, wake up." The doctor was passing the salts up his nose.
Henry was opening his eyes and the lights were filtering through his retinas.
"What happened?" Henry was getting up startled.
"She fainted, Mr. Henry. How are you feeling?"
"Better, thank you very much. I want to see my mother."
"You can come in and say goodbye." The doctor was opening the door.
Henry entered the room and saw his emaciated mother, with several tubes connected to her body and machines that made soft alternating beeps. The woman slowly opened her eyes and smiled through the oxygen mask. She was waiting for him.
"Hi, son. I thought you weren't coming." The mother was raising her hand feebly.
"How do you say that, Mother. I would never do it. You know how much I love you." Henry took his mother's hand and kissed it.
"I know, son, you are my most beloved. I can always count on you. You are too good to everyone, even though some of them pay you badly." The mother was stroking Henry's head.
"Mother, I don't want to lose you." The tears were coming out uncontrollably like raging rivers.
"Son, you can't help, the inevitable. Now I release you from this cross and you can live fully from now on." The mother was shedding tears that ran down the furrows of the wrinkles.
"I don't want to, Mother. I need you with me." Henry was still bent over kissing his mother's hand.
"You are no one's savior, Henry, things must happen. I just thank you very much for everything you have done for me and for being such a good son. I love you." The mother closed her eyes.
The beeping of the machine became continuous. The doctor came in and put his hand on Henry's shoulder.
"It's all over, Mr. Henry."
Henry got up and cried inconsolably on the doctor's chest, like a baby when he is taken away from his mother. The days passed and that experience with his mother along with his dream taught him that the only cross that should be carried is his own because the weight of other people's crosses only eats away at the soul and existence. He didn't stop being good, he only helped those who were honest and as much as he could, nothing more.
Español
¿El salvador?
«Muévete, sabandija. ¿Acaso es muy pesada esa cruz? Jaja». El soldado azotaba el látigo contra el suelo.
El condenado demacrado caminaba lentamente, mientras veía aquellos rostros que una vez ayudó, pero que ahora miran sin hacer nada. Algunos miran con tristeza, pero sin muchas ganas de ayudar debido a las circunstancias. Otros solo ven pasar al cadáver ambulante con indiferencia. Unos pocos se atreven a condenar débilmente la injusticia...
«Despierta, vago, el trabajo se acumula y no has hecho», el supervisor llamaba la atención al Henry. «Es la última vez que le llamo la atención. La próxima lo reportaré con el gerente. ¿Entendió?».
«Es que no pude dormir bien...». Henry empezaba a temblar.
«Mire, Henry, no me interesa su vida. Solo cumpla con su trabajo». El supervisor daba media vuelta y salía de cubículo.
Henry volvía a teclear y fijaba sus ojos cafés adormilados en la pantalla. En ese momento, un compañero entraba a ver a Henry.
«Oye, que duro estuvo el supervisor contigo, me daban ganas de callarlo con un insulto, se cree mucho porque es el sobrino del gerente. Tú eres un buen empleado que cumple con su trabajo. Ese es un imbécil».
«Me encontró dormido. Creo que tiene razón». Henry soltaba un suspiro. «Tengo un problema...».
«¿Qué mal, amigo?». El compañero palmeaba la espalda de Henry. «Pero, antes, ¿puedo pedirte un favor?».
«Dime, Dustin». Henry lo miraba fijamente.
«¿Me puedes prestar dinero? Es que no tengo para almorzar». Dustin mostraba un gesto entristecido.
Henry asentía con la cabeza y sacaba unos billetes de su bolsillo. Dustin sonreía y salía corriendo del cubículo. Henry volvía al trabajo sin apartar de su mente aquello que lo tenía preocupado. El día pasaba rápidamente, y el ocaso se apoderaba de la ciudad, mientras iba en el bus con destino a su apartamento, el sueño volvía a apoderase de él...
«Camina, camina, sabandija, no tengo todo el día». El látigo emitía ese sonido sordo y fuerte cuando chocaba con la cruz.
El camino empedrado llevaba hasta la montaña. Los ojos del demacrado hombre miraban con angustia aquel sendero, sus fuerzas parecían abandonarlo y esa cruz se hacía más y más pesada conforme pasaba el tiempo. Los ojos de aquellas personas seguían viendo la escena lastimera, pero nadie hacía nada, cada quien pensaba en sí mismo. No querían tener problemas. El hombre de la cruz calló y las mujeres soltaban sonidos lastimeros. El peso de la cruz vencía al hombre y quedó tendido en aquel sendero empedrado.
«Levántate, sabandija, levántate». El soldado movía al hombre con el pie…
Un sonido suave y melodioso se filtraba por los oídos de Henry, abría los ojos y las luces azuladas del bus le fastidiaban. Henry se sobaba los ojos y tomaba su celular que seguía sonando insistentemente. Deslizaba el dedo por el ícono verde y una voz con tono de urgencia sonaba por el altavoz.
«Henry, llamaron del hospital. Nuestra madre se agravó y piden a un familiar que acuda rápidamente». La mujer se escuchaba acongojada.
«¡Ya voy para allá, Susan!». Henry bajaba corriendo del bus y tomaba un taxi.
Los minutos pasaban lentamente como una tortura, mientras la cabeza de Henry parecía explotar entre emociones y sentimientos que apretujaban su corazón. Después de unos minutos, llegó al hospital y la enorme edificación lo recibía con colores melancólicos. Las puertas de cristal se abrían de par en par. Un vigilante recibía al acongojado hombre.
«Buenas noches. Me llamaron de aquí a decir que mi madre estaba muy grave».
«Nombre de la paciente». El guardia de seguridad sacaba una libreta.
«Irene Sincler». Henry miraba atentamente al hombre.
«Siga, ya sabe en qué habitación está, ¿verdad?».
Henry asentía y corría rápidamente, mientras subía por las gradas sentía que el corazón se le iba a salir del pecho, por su cabeza pasaban miles de pensamientos como escenas de películas viejas. Aquel trecho hasta la unidad de cuidados intensivos se hizo eterna y parecía no tener fin. Después de unos minutos, llegó hasta la habitación y por la ventana veía a su madre conectada a varias máquinas. El médico salía para hablar con Henry.
«Buenas noches, señor Henry, le informo que a su madre le quedan pocas horas. Puede entrar a despedirse». El médico le daba una palmada en la espalda.
Henry sintió que su mundo se desplomaba y cayó desmayado. Las sombras invadieron su ser...
«Camina, imbécil». El centurión azotaba el látigo.
De entre la multitud, un hombre llegaba corriendo con poco de agua para el exhausto condenado. Le daba de beber y el hombre tomaba la pesada cruz. Llevó aquel pesado madero hasta la montaña, mientras el condenado caminaba lentamente.
El hombre soltó la cruz pesada en el lugar indicado. El condenado se acercó y a pesar de su semblante demacrado, una mirada gentil se podía percibir en aquellos ojos color miel.
«Gracias por llevar mi cruz, pero no puedes evitar mi destino. Así es en la vida, puedes cargar muchas cruces, unas malagradecidas, unas queridas, unas envidiosas, unas desconocidas y el peso te carcomerá, pero al final no puedes evitar el destino de cada cruz. No eres salvador, Henry, recuérdalo». El condenado era empujado por el centurión.
Henry intento ayudar, pero fue golpeado por un soldado y perdió el conocimiento...
«Señor Henry, despierte». El médico le pasaba las sales por la nariz.
Henry abría los ojos y las luces se filtraban por sus retinas.
«¿Qué sucedió?». Henry se levantaba sobresaltado.
«Se desmayó, señor Henry. ¿Cómo se siente?».
«Mejor, muchas gracias. Quiero ver a mi madre».
«Puede entrar a despedirse». El médico abría la puerta.
Henry entraba a la habitación y veía a su demacrada madre, con varios tubos conectados al cuerpo y máquinas que emitían pitidos suaves y alternados. La mujer abría lentamente los ojos y sonreía por entre la mascarilla de oxígeno. Ella estaba esperándolo.
«Hola, hijo, pensé que no vendrías». La madre levantaba débilmente la mano.
«Como dices eso, madre. Nunca lo haría. Sabes lo mucho que te amo». Henry tomaba la mano de su madre y la besaba.
«Lo sé, hijo, eres mi más amado. Siempre puedo contar contigo. Eres demasiado bueno con todos, a pesar que algunos te paguen mal». La madre acariciaba la cabeza de Henry.
«Madre, no te quiero perder». Las lágrimas salían incontenibles como ríos furiosos.
«Hijo, no puedes evitar, lo inevitable. Ahora te libero de esta cruz y puedes vivir plenamente de ahora en adelante». La madre derramaba lágrimas que corrían por los surcos de las arrugas.
«No quiero, madre. Te necesito conmigo». Henry seguía agachado besando la mano de su madre.
«No eres salvador de nadie, Henry, las cosas deben pasar. Solo te agradezco mucho todo lo que has hecho por mí y por ser tan buen hijo. Te amo». La madre cerraba los ojos.
El pitido de la máquina se hizo continuo. El médico entró y puso la mano en el hombro de Henry.
«Todo acabo, señor Henry».
Henry se levantó y lloró desconsoladamente en el pecho del médico, como un bebé cuando es apartado de su madre. Los días pasaron y aquella experiencia con su madre junto con su sueño le enseñó, que la única cruz que se debe cargar es la propia porque el peso de cruces ajenas solo carcome el alma y la existencia. No dejó de ser bueno, solo a ayudar a quien es honesto y hasta donde se puede.
Edited by Rincón Poético
The text of this post was originally translated from Spanish to English with the translator DeepL
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