The voice of evil - Story 09 - "AUSSIE FLASH STORIES" Book by Daniel Gutiérrez Híjar

 

You right, Elise? said Tom.

Yeah, Dad, she said, with the same calm and cheerful manner she'd answered the same question with less than two minutes ago when Tom had rung for the first time that arvo. There's only an hour's difference between Nagano and Queensland, Dad. I'm not on the other side of the world. You've got nothing to worry about.

Yeah, true, he said. Tell me again what you're gonna do today, please. I like hearing you talk.

She told him again what she was about to do before heading home to rest, after having worked all day massaging the feet and backs of the demanding clients at the physio clinic located in the resort where the chair lift she'd be hopping on as soon as she finished this call also was.

Dunno why I feel like something bad's gonna happen, Tom thought with mounting dread, while his daughter repeated to him, with the same innocence as a few minutes ago, that she'd always wanted to go on a chair lift. It goes across the beautiful and yawning gap between the two ends of the mountain at the resort, she said excitedly.

On Wednesdays, like today, no one uses the chair lift. I'll have it all to myself, she went on. She might even, she added, have a go at filming herself on her phone. It's gonna be deadset fun. Yesterday they showed me how to use the machine. So I'll switch it on myself and turn it off after I've done a couple of laps.

But how are you gonna turn the machine off if you're gonna be on one of the chairs? said Tom, alarmed.

That machine, which is called a chair lift, Dad, can be programmed to turn itself off once the ride's done. Don't stress. Everything's sweet as.

Tom couldn't work out if that was what was worrying him. Maybe not.

Sorry about my old man fears.

What old man, Dad? You're heaps young. And good-looking. My mates reckon they'd even go out with you if you lived here. I'll tell you all about it when we see each other again in about six months.

Six months, Tom sighed.

Six months is nothing, Dad. They'll fly by.

On the other end, he wasn't getting the same excitement she was showing, so she cushioned his situation: You've got nothing to worry about. I live in a safe country, in a safe city. My life is boring, but quiet. That's why today I'm gonna treat myself to this ride on the chair lift. In a few hours, I'll send you the pics and vids. You'll drop dead when you see the view and you'll wanna come soon.

But it wasn't Tom who died; it was her who did when, due to an error in the chair lift's programming and the accidental and unfortunate catching of straps and hooks, she ended up suspended hundreds of metres from a deadly fall, her heart stopping from the shock.

After hearing the tragic news, Tom promised himself he'd never again ignore the foreboding voice that once whispered to him, with the persistence of a mozzie, the grim future that was coming; a voice that arrived from afar and, precisely because of that, wasn't quite clear.

La voz del mal - Cuento 09 - "AUSSIE FLASH STORIES" Libro de Daniel Gutiérrez Híjar

 

¿Estás bien, Elise?, dijo Tom.

Sí, papi, dijo ella, con la misma serenidad y alegre talante con los que le contestó a la misma pregunta hacía solo menos de dos minutos cuando Tom llamó por primera vez esa tarde. Solo hay una hora de diferencia entre Nagano y Queensland, papi. No estoy al otro lado del mundo. No tienes de qué preocuparte.

Tienes razón, dijo él. Vuelve a contarme qué vas a hacer hoy, por favor. Me gusta escucharte.

Ella le volvió a relatar lo que estaba a punto de hacer antes de irse a casa a descansar, luego de haber trabajado todo el día masajeando los pies y espaldas de las exigentes clientes de la clínica fisioterapéutica alojada en el complejo turístico donde también estaba el telesilla que abordaría ni bien terminase esa llamada.

No sé por qué siento que algo malo va a pasar, pensó Tom con galopante angustia, mientras su hija le repetía, con el mismo candor de hacía unos minutos, que siempre había querido subirse a un telesilla. Este recorre el hermoso y abismal vacío entre las dos puntas de la montaña del complejo, dijo ilusionada.

Los miércoles, como hoy, nadie usa el telesilla. Lo tendré para mi solita, continuó. Incluso, añadió, se animaría a grabarse con el celular. Va a ser muy divertido. Ayer me enseñaron a usar la máquina. Así que yo misma la prenderé y la apagaré luego de haber dado un par de vueltas.

¿Pero cómo vas a apagar la máquina si vas a estar en una de las sillas?, dijo Tom, alarmado.

Esa máquina, que se llama telesilla, papá, se puede programar para que se desactive una vez hecho el recorrido. No te preocupes. Todo está bajo control.

Tom no podía determinar si era eso lo que le preocupaba. Quizá no.

Disculpa mis temores de viejo.

¿Cuál viejo, papá? Eres súper joven. Y guapo. Mis amigas dicen que hasta saldrían contigo si vivieras aquí. Ya te contaré cuando nos volvamos a ver en unos seis meses.

Seis meses, suspiró Tom.

Seis meses no son nada, papá. Se van a ir volando.

Del otro lado, no recibía la misma emoción que ella manifestaba, entonces acolchó su situación: No tienes nada de qué preocuparte. Vivo en un país seguro, en una ciudad segura. Mi vida es aburrida, pero tranquila. Por eso, hoy me voy a regalar este paseo en el telesilla. En unas horitas, te enviaré las fotitos y los vídeos. Te vas a morir con la vista y vas a querer venir pronto.

Pero no fue Tom quien murió; lo hizo ella cuando, por un error en la programación del telesilla y el fortuito y desgraciado acoplamiento de correas y ganchos, quedó suspendida a cientos de metros de una mortal caída, deteniéndosele el corazón de la impresión.

Luego de enterado de la luctuosa noticia, Tom se prometió no volver a ignorar la agorera voz que una vez le susurró, con la pertinacia de un mosquito, el funesto futuro que se le venía; una voz que llegó desde lejos y, justamente por eso, no logró ser del todo clara.

 

 

Happy Australia Day - Story 08 - "AUSSIE FLASH STORIES" Book by Daniel Gutierrez Hijar

 

I opened my restaurant on a January twenty-sixth five years ago and today, also January twenty-sixth, Australia Day, I will close it. There is nothing more I can do to save it.

This business has given me several headaches, each one overcome thanks to the naive hope that, at some point, I would achieve the economic prosperity so often desired. However, this latest pain, today's, is soothed only because I know it is the last. Today, everything ends.

I arrive at the premises and Janice, Erika and Sandra, my staff, are already there, working as usual. They haven't been with me from the start, of course. I've seen many young people come and go; some eager to learn the trade, others only interested in a wage that would keep them from starving in a country as far away as this one. Janice, Erika and Sandra are the employees who have lasted the longest.

Happy Australia Day, I greet them, and they wish me a Happy Day too. They weren't born here, but I sense they feel a little bit Australian, as I know they've been living in this country for a good while.

Despite how much I like and value them, it's the wages I must pay them that will make this day, financially speaking, even more in the red than the previous ones.

I know the number of customers who come today will not compensate for the gigantic losses in fixed costs. Australia Day is more a day of fear than of celebration. That's why people prefer to stay at home and enjoy a quiet holiday, without any scares.

Yes, the date chosen for Australia Day is when Captain Phillip arrived on the shores of Sydney with a shipment of convicts who, it must be acknowledged, were also torn from their land and sent to an unknown and very distant place.

We have all lost something or suffered greatly to get here and find opportunities that allow us to help our own. And to stay alive; perhaps, forcing a smile each morning. And that is what we should celebrate on this Day.

But the economy shows no mercy. Everything that comes in today will go towards paying my staff's wages. And, from what I can see, few people are coming to my restaurant. Most are keeping a prudent distance from the possible demonstrations of those who consider this twenty-sixth a day of mourning for the Aboriginal Australian population, who were decimated by the newly arrived Europeans in Phillip's time. I see, with great anguish, that the little money that comes into my till will not be enough to pay my staff the double hourly rate stipulated by law.

The hours pass and I pray for this day to end quickly; as each minute that passes is a little more red ink on my restaurant's finances.

The day ends, I tally the till, and I realise, with relief, that, at least, I will be able to pay my staff the high wages. I lock everything up and leave, but not for home, because I've already lost it, but to the street corner, that corner I turned so many times and where I never (except for these recent days) thought I would establish my dwelling.

I carry with me a small sign: Happy Australia Day. Please help a fellow countryman with a donation.

Feliz Día de Australia - Cuento 08 - "AUSSIE FLASH STORIES" Book by Daniel Gutiérrez Híjar

 

Inauguré mi restaurante un veintiséis de enero de hace cinco años y hoy, también veintiséis de enero, Día de Australia, lo cerraré. Ya no hay nada que pueda hacer para salvarlo.

Este negocio me ha propiciado varios dolores de cabeza, superados cada uno gracias a la ingenua esperanza de que, en algún momento, conseguiría la prosperidad económica tantas veces deseada. Sin embargo, este último dolor, el de hoy, es aplacado solamente porque sé que es el último. Hoy se acaban todos.

Llego al local y ya están ahí Janice, Erika y Sandra, mi personal, trabajando como de costumbre. Ellas no me acompañan desde el inicio, por supuesto. He visto desfilar a varios jóvenes; algunos deseosos de aprender el oficio, otros solo interesados en el salario que no les permita morir de hambre en un país tan lejano como este. Janice, Erika y Sandra son las empleadas que más me han durado.

Feliz Día de Australia, las saludo, y ellas me devuelven un Feliz Día para ti también. No han nacido aquí, pero intuyo que se sienten un poquito australianas, pues sé que llevan un buen tiempo viviendo en este país.

A pesar de que las estimo y considero mucho, es el sueldo que debo pagarles lo que hará que este día, financieramente hablando, sea todavía más rojo que los anteriores.

Sé que la cantidad de clientes que venga hoy no compensará las gigantescas pérdidas en gastos fijos. El Día de Australia es más un día de temor que de fiesta. Por eso la gente prefiere permanecer en sus casas y disfrutar de un feriado tranquilo, sin sobresaltos.

Sí, se eligió como el Día de Australia la fecha en que el capitán Phillip arribó a las costas de Sydney con un cargamento de presidiarios que, hay que reconocerlo, también fueron arrancados de su tierra y enviados a un lugar desconocido y muy lejano.

Todos hemos perdido algo o sufrido un mucho para llegar hasta aquí y hallar oportunidades que nos permitan ayudar a los nuestros. Y seguir vivos; quizá, esforzando una sonrisa cada mañana. Y eso es lo que debemos celebrar en este Día.

Pero la economía no perdona. Todo lo que entre hoy se irá en pagar los sueldos de mi personal. Y, por lo que estoy viendo, poca gente está llegando a mi restaurante. La mayoría guarda una distancia prudente de las posibles manifestaciones de quienes consideran que este veintiséis es un día de luto para la población australiana aborigen, que fue diezmada por los europeos recién llegados en los tiempos de Phillip. Veo, con mucha angustia, que la poca plata que ingrese a mis arcas no alcanzará para pagarle a mi personal la doble tarifa horaria que la ley estipula.

Pasan las horas y yo imploro por que este día concluya pronto; ya que cada minuto transcurrido es un poco más de tintura roja en las finanzas de mi local.

Termina el día, cuadro la caja, y me doy cuenta, con alivio, de que, al menos, sí les podré pagar los altos salarios a mi personal. Cierro todo y me marcho, pero no a casa, porque ya la perdí, sino a la esquina de la calle, a esa esquina que tantas veces doblé y en la que jamás (a no ser por estos recientes días) creí que establecería mi morada.

Llevo conmigo un letrerito: Feliz Día de Australia. Ayude con su voluntad a un paisano.

Job interview - Story 07 - "AUSSIE FLASH STORIES" Book by Daniel Gutierrez Hijar

 

Mum! I shouted with joy. They’ve accepted me for an interview at New Mount Mines! I ran to her, and together we jumped around in delight, hand in hand, tracing little circles of celebration on the floor.

New Mount Mines was one of the top gold mining companies in Australia and in the world. It owned dozens of mines across six continents. A few months earlier, I’d replied to a job posting they’d shared on LinkedIn. They were looking for a manager to lead their Latin American division. Just being invited to the interview was already a huge achievement.

I’ve just made your favourite meal, Mum said, stirring a pot. She drew me closer so I could breathe in the aroma. Something told me good news would come to this house today, so I made your favourite noodles.

I savoured the delicious dish while telling her all about what I’d do with the great salary I’d earn if I got hired as the new manager at that mining company.

Here’s your jelly, love. Orange. Your favourite. I gave her a huge kiss and hugged her tightly. She always had a radar for spotting my biggest moments. Ever since I started earning my own money, she’d been there, supporting me every step of the way.

How could I forget when she came with me to my first job interview? I was fifteen and had applied at the city’s MacDonald’s (or Macca’s, as we call it here in Australia) to flip burgers.

The manager led me to one of the empty tables in the restaurant. Mum sat at another, also empty, just a few metres away, her gaze fixed on the interview. I could clearly feel the emotional backup radiating from her green eyes, and how they kept the interviewer, my future boss, under strict watch. If his questions had cornered me in any way, she would’ve leapt straight at his throat. You treat my boy fairly and with no tricky word games; he’s a good kid, ready to work hard and honourably, her looks and gestures seemed to say.

Sure enough, at one point during the interview, Mum noticed a bit of anxiety on my face. She quickly approached the manager and said a few words to him.

What are you saying to my boy? You’d better be careful not to make him feel bad, because I’m a lioness when someone messes with my kid.

The manager raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised and a little frightened. He shook my hand and, without looking at me but keeping his eyes on her, said: You’re hired.

Now, over dinner, Mum and I are planning her presence at this next interview for the CEO role at New Mount Mines. I’m sure I’ll come out victorious again, because when Mum’s by my side, everything always turns out right.

Entrevista laboral - Cuento 07 - "AUSSIE FLASH STORIES" Libro de Daniel Gutiérrez Híjar

 

¡Mami!, salté de júbilo. ¡Me aceptaron la entrevista para New Mount Mines! Corrí hacia ella y juntos, tomados de la mano, brincamos de alegría, describiendo círculos festivos sobre el suelo.

New Mount Mines era una de las principales compañías mineras de oro en Australia y el mundo. Poseía decenas de minas en los seis continentes. Hacía unos meses, les había respondido a una solicitud de trabajo que me dejaron en LinkedIn. Buscaban a un gerente que dirigiese la división latinoamericana. Que te aceptasen tan solo la entrevista era ya un gran logro.

Justo te he preparado tu comida favorita, dijo mi madre revolviendo una cacerola. Me llevó hacia ella para disfrutar de sus aromas. Algo me decía que una gran noticia llegaría a esta casa y por eso te hice tus fideos preferidos.

Disfruté del exquisito platillo mientras le platicaba de lo que haría con el mejor sueldo que ganaría de ser contratado como el flamante gerente de esa minera.

Aquí está tu gelatinita, hijito. Es de naranja. Tu favorita. Le di un beso enorme y la abracé muy fuerte. Ella parecía tener un radar para detectar mis momentos más importantes. Desde que empecé a ganarme el dinero por cuenta propia, ella siempre estuvo ahí para apoyarme.

Cómo olvidar cuando me acompañó a mi primera entrevista laboral. Tenía quince años y me postulé al MacDonald’s (o Macca’s, como le decimos aquí en Australia) de la ciudad para freír hamburguesas.

El gerente me condujo a una de las mesas desocupadas del restaurante. Mi madre se sentó en otra, también desocupada, a solo unos metros; la mirada siempre atenta a la entrevista. Podía sentir con nitidez el soporte anímico que desprendían sus ojos verdes, y cómo ellos sometían al entrevistador, mi futuro jefe, a una estricta vigilancia. Si sus preguntas me hubieran orillado hacia callejones sin salida, ella habría saltado a su cuello. A mi hijo me lo tratan limpio y sin trampas semánticas, que él es un buen muchacho, dispuesto a trabajar duro y honradamente, parecían decir sus gestos y miradas.  

Efectivamente, en un momento de la entrevista, mi madre detectó en mi rostro cierta desazón, entonces se acercó velozmente hacia el gerente y le dijo un par de cosas.

¿Qué le está diciendo a mi niño? Mucho cuidadito con hacérmelo sentir mal porque yo soy una mamá leona cuando me lo tocan.

El gerente enarcó las cejas en clara muestra de sorpresa y temor, Me estrechó la mano y, sin mirarme, pero mirándola a ella, dijo: Estás contratado.

Ahora, cenando, planificamos con mi madre su presencia en esta próxima entrevista para ser el CEO de New Mount Mines. Estoy seguro de que nuevamente saldré victorioso, porque cuando está mi mami al lado, todo me sale bien.

Sweating out the booze - Story 06 - "AUSSIE FLASH STORIES" Book by Daniel Gutierrez Hijar

 

When he woke up, lying on the sand, he remembered he had to show up at the Macca’s in that part of the Gold Coast for the job interview his dad had lined up for him. If you don’t come back hired, I’ll kick you out of the house, he’d warned. You want me to pay for uni? Then go get a job for at least six months. I want you to know what it’s like to bust your guts every day for a few coins. I haven’t mortgaged my life so you can just stroll into your studies that easily.

He dragged himself up off the sand, took a few clumsy steps, and went down again, his whole face covered in tiny grains. How was he going to turn up to the interview this drunk?

The mates he’d come to the Gold Coast with, to celebrate being freed from school – that twelve–year yoke – looked like corpses, their bodies licked by the clear ocean water. The night before, the last night of Schoolies week, those days when Aussie teenagers celebrated the end of an era with booze and debauchery, had finished in an epic bender.

Schoolies was over now, and he had to focus on getting the alcohol out of his system in the few hours left before the interview.

He remembered that back in Year 11 he’d gone to a party at Kim’s place, with her parents away. Even though he’d drunk pretty much everything on offer, the dancing had kept him off the floor, unlike several of his mates who ended up face–down.

I’ve gotta dance, he thought. He tried, but the moment he went for a little spin, he sank back into the sand.

There was no way he was getting anywhere like that.

I’ll start by walking, and once I’m steady enough, I’ll dance, even if people think I’m nuts.

Staggering, he made it off the beach and walked a block along the footpath, where he came across a sign for the first ever Schoolies running club: Finish your last day of Schoolies doing something healthy. We start at 6 am. What are you waiting for? Sign up.

Zac headed to the address listed as the starting point, hoping it was close to six already. When he arrived, there was no one there. Swaying on the spot and reeking of booze, he wondered if everyone had already taken off.

You here for the running club?, a guy in lycra asked him.

Yeah, I saw the sign. Have they all left already?

No, actually it’s almost seven and you’re the first one keen.

Seven?, Zac blurted out.

Yeah. Something wrong?

Let’s start running, said Zac quickly, already picturing the beating he’d cop from his old man.

Sure, let’s get going. But first, let me introduce myself. I’m Brock. I started this club.

After an hour and a half on the move, Zac and Brock were back where they’d begun.

Thanks heaps for joining this first attempt to bring a bit of health and sport to this week full of chaos and excess. You’ve been the only one who’s believed in this crusade, said Brock, giving a friendly pat on the sweaty back of a Zac now free of alcohol. His movements were clear and steady. He only needed a good shower and he would be ready for the interview. He had a little over an hour left.

But who comes up with organising a healthy run in the middle of Schoolies when what people want is to get drunk to forget twelve years of school torture?, said Zac, eager to leave.

And why did you show up if you don’t believe in the mission of this crusade?

I have to go, Zac concluded. Another day I’ll gladly answer your question. And he trotted off towards the beach showers, not without first taking, taking advantage of a moment of carelessness from Brock, his backpack with the change of clothes he had inside.