He got up at the usual hour that morning, a wintry morning, and a glacial cold surrounded him with its frozen tentacles: he was experiencing the shivers of death. The man began to cry and sob, without trying to give a reason to either the tears that were falling down bountifully from his eyes or the sobs, sobs of a child who suddenly lost his mom.
He knelt down on the carpet stretched out to the legs of the bed and tried to pray to that God whose existence he had hitherto ignored. From his mouth gushed these words:
I have rowed for a long time, without interruption
Risking drowning, tasting death
And when, from afar, I beheld the coveted doors
There was yet a tempest and other signs of malediction.
The heavens procrastinate, as they rejoice, acting like “Fabius”*
Encouraging a start, then offering me tacitly an end,
Bestowing on me a rose, then covering me with thorns,
They would truncate so the constancy of a sage.
I don’t ask “why” about this punishment,
Which my conscience knows too deeply
By now, I am resigned, refused by this world
I am not recalcitrant, but await with anxiety and submission.
It seems that nature indicates to me that ultimate resource
That I still refuse with the little courage
Remaining in my bones, as the only equipment
Which tempts in vain to react to the infernal vice.
TAKE ME IF YOU WANT! TAKE ME AS I AM!
Do not point any longer to the mysterious object
Hidden in my drawer, give me rest-
TAKE ME IF YOU WANT! TAKE ME AS I AM!
He became quiet and brought his worker hands to his face and the tears became wrinkles beneath the trembling fingers. He suddenly felt fatally old, as if numerous years had been added to his forty. He shook his stiff and frightened body, ready to combat this fatal destiny, but once on his feet, he realized the sensation of old age had not left him. It was still with him, ready to resist and insist, in the corrosion of his body and of his soul. He faced the mirror in order to thin out his fear…Nothing! That which he did not want to believe became cruel truth: yes, he was old, tired, degraded, trembling, and without strength to commence resistance. What worse punishment could he receive for his laziness! It was at that precise moment that his teary eyes began to fix their gaze upon a cupboard on which rested a photograph: a photograph from many years ago in which he was dressed ready to feast next to a young woman wearing a long snow-white dress.
He hesitated for a moment and then moved slowly toward the object. Forcing his eyes not to rest on the photograph, he opened the first drawer, removed some vests and some underwear as long as an arm, the kind his grandparents had worn, and saw a black metallic object shine out from under them. At first, it blinded him. Instinctively, he put both of his hands on the brass handle of the drawer in order to shut it, but right judgment warned him not to do so. His day had come and he should not object. He should not do anything but acquiesce. He seized the weapon and kissed it as if it held salvation. Yes, he was certain the object he held in his hands contained true liberty, liberty from the life of oppression he had led since the day sealed within the photograph on the cupboard.
He thought that if he had acted like a man from the beginning, he would have been able to break the bondage that now subjected him. He should have shown his intentions from the beginning. But by now it was already too late.
Some words his father had spoken to him a few years before he married ricocheted in his mind. He realized the old man was right. It seemed to him he could still see the warning hand of his old father extend toward him in a fatal and decisive gesture:
“Son, I know well I was never a good father to you; I know well my greed for money kept me far away from family; I know well I have no right to tell you such things, but as a father, however unworthy I have been, I want to warn you: the day you decide to settle down and start a family, above all do not follow in the footsteps of your father. Be near to those children to whom you will give life, and be close to that woman you will chose as your faithful companion. But above all, avoid a woman who belongs to this contaminated and sinful world. If you make the mistake of falling in the tentacles of such a woman, you will not be a true man, but a slave at the mercy of devilish desires and imperial, tyrannical being. For the love of God, evade this, evade this, evade this!” These last words continued to resound in his head. He conceded, however unwilling, the rightness of his father who never was a true father. He raised his right hand in a decisive, yet ritual manner, to his temple. His face appeared serene, and he smiled as his finger squeezed the trigger.
*Quintus FABIUS Maximus Verrucosus called “the Procrastinator”, (275 bc-203 bc), a Roman politician and general.