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An escape for love

AN ESCAPE FOR LOVE                                    

 

NACHO HRISTOSKOV

 

He was just sixteen when he lost his Mother.
His Father barely waited for him to turn eighteen and arranged a marriage, so that there would be a woman in the house.
The girl was somewhat unsightly, but coming from a hardworking family in the village. Being diligent and skillful, she took care of all the wife’s duties in the house…
No more than a year later he moved to sleep in a separate bedroom.
She tried so hard to lure him back…
During the nights his mind bore all kinds of plans to run away from home… He dreaded his Father and did not dare to share them with anyone.
There was always something to interfere with his plans even after his old man’s death. Thus, all this time he had been living in the same house with that woman, who was brought by his Father thirty five years ago.
The closest he ever was to happiness, was at the vacation home ten years earlier, when he met and had an affair with the small town elementary teacher.
She had the ingenuousness and the foolishness to respond to his letter.
His wife swiftly grabbed the enveloped from the hands of the village mailman.
The very next day she left for the small town and rang the doorbell of the elementary teacher.
She started scolding her bluntly: “You are out of your mind! How could you feel attracted to such a blockhead?! I have not heard thirty five words from him for the thirty five years we have been together! Still, I will never give him a divorce, remember that! I will not allow to become the gossip of the village! What rubbish this letter is!“
All red in the face, the stunned teacher managed to mumble: “Excuse me, but…”
Now, being already fifty five years old, he finally had firmly decided to run away – away from his home, from his work, from the village…
This time his plan would work for sure. He had envisioned everything, even the smallest detail. He had not told anybody, anything…
He had found a job as a security guard in the smallest, remotest cabin, on the top of the highest peak, in the far mountain.
At nightfall, he prepared his baggage – a handbag of clothes – and without being seen by anybody in the darkness, he put it in the trunk of the car. It was almost impossible for him to fall asleep during the night.
Early the next morning, before even sunrise, he sneaked out of the house on his tiptoes.
Leaning on the parked in the street car with flat tires, having triumphantly situated the taken out of the trunk bag of clothes at her feet, his wife was gazing at him mockingly and victoriously.
She had even awaken their six year old granddaughter.
Still sleepy, the puzzled child asked him: “Grandpa, why are you crying?”.

Translate Petya Bankov