The unknown hero
«I have always thought that one need not go beyond the mortal to scale new adventures and meet incredible beings. Why do it if you can found magic in everyday life itself? In a conversation in the garden under the moonlight, in the distracted gaze of a stranger on the train, in the morning shadow of a tree hit by the su. People look for in spells that which makes them feel alive; I, for my part, consider that enchantment is as easy to find in a silence that hurts, in a kiss that melts, in an embrace that breaks or in a farewell that comforts.
The extraordinary, the magic, is hidden in the routine; as if life itself was waiting for someone to catch it, and to be able to finally tell you: "you have found it"».
-Cecil... Remind me, how old are you? Thirty? Or why do you write like a Victorian in love with the last century - The notebook held in Arthur's hands was snatched away in a matter of seconds by his sister who, amidst subdued insults and cries of helplessness, turned to put away her diary which she had left in a moment of stress on her brother's belongings.
-You know I like to know everything they put in my way so, it wasn't my fault this time. You put it on a silver platter for me - Arthur threw himself on the disastrous nest of clothes and sheets that he considered his bed without leaving that mischievous smile that characterized him.
-It's still a private diary and even if it's within your reach you don't have to check it! What if it had important papers in it and they fell out without you noticing? You would have ruined my life, there's a reason I don't let you touch it, my life depends on this diary! - Cecil went on with what she was doing, putting a few things in her bag for the busy day ahead: checking that all the participants were getting ready for the occasion, that the budget was being used correctly, the quality of the crops for the recreational events and a lot of other preparations for the summer festival that would be taking place in two weeks.
-I wouldn't be ruining it for you, I'd be helping you - Arthur put his arms under his head just listening to cabinets and sliders being closed from time to time -I've told you not to accept everything Antonio tells you to do, you have a limit too, silly. He's taking advantage of you and your youth.
-Shut up! He's not taking advantage of me, Arthur - Cecil put her bag over her shoulder and quickly headed for the door. - He's my father, I'm helping him and if he requires me to do all these things it's because he knows I have potential and I must exploit it - She gave a last marked smile and closed the door tightly to head for the exit to the street.
Arthur was left for a few seconds processing what he had heard, while he was used to hearing that kind of sonorous comments from his sister it sometimes bothered him how literal or figurative she tended to take others' comments, for her there was no middle ground as far as interpretation was concerned. With nothing else to do after annoying his sister for a while, Arthur got up to put on a somewhat worn jacket he had caught with his eyes, took a couple of glances at himself in the mirror and went off in search of his belongings, bumping into one of the many paint cans in the large living room in the process.
No one knows how he did it, why he did it or where he came from, a wise young man with airs and graces who would later be recognized as Antonio Liébana, co-founder and mayor of Sunset Valley who had provided intellectual assistance and monetary support to the ex-miners and families of Moorage lands so as not to fall into poverty or let their home become a forgotten place. The good management, ambition and other personal interests of many others turned the place into a mandatory destination to visit if you came from the north in Catterlein to the south. With events that made known the new innovative ideas such as: beauty contests, a public library, a shopping center, art galleries with samples of art made by the students of the village and a central park whose name honored what it used to be and where open air festivals of all kinds were held such as musicals, costume contests, baking or competition of the best crop, Antonio Liébana and a small group of partners had made the place a tourist attraction that showed the beginning of a new era, more modern, colorful and open to everyone, demonstrating that you did not have to be in a noisy city to enjoy the wonders of modernity.
The good deeds he had done for the community not only brought him a good status within it, but the respect, admiration and love of a noble and creative woman with whom he had formed a respectable family, symbolic of what a modern marriage was. In fact, the home they used to live in was a reflection of that fresh but elegant air that the Liébana's tried to project to the public. Large concrete block walls painted white contrasted with the giant, colorful aquamarine frames of the discontinuously arranged windows that, from a distance, seemed to form giant diamonds, a flat ceiling, doors made of blue and gray glass that allowed little or nothing to see inside, a living room decorated with fluffy and extravagant furniture, lamps shaped like flowers, a mini library, tables with newspapers and empty coffee cups and a small but shiny record player that rested on a cabinet with many records and other personal objects.
-My darling, I'm sorry! Could you pass me that tin can? The one you just kicked. See that it didn't stain the carpet or your shoes, please! Quick, Susan needs her roses to accept the count! Love can vanish in a second. Arthur! - From the inner courtyard of the home, which looked more like a mini woodland with a small tea hut and watered linens, a shrill, sweet voice pierced the glass door separating it from the living room. Arthur snorted, resigned, gripping the can tightly to approach his mother who was wiping, unsuccessfully and sprawled on the grass, her face with a rag full of yellow paint.
-Will you be leaving again? Your father said that today we would have dinner with the Fletchers and Novak to settle details of the spring festival. I don't think you have much to do, the last school year is very simple and there is nothing to do. Ah, beautiful years! Where having perfect hair was my only concern. Did I tell you about the time an aristocrat's son was so smitten with me that he thought of proposing to me? It was in the winter of fifty-two, I hadn't even finished school and I was very, very young and beautiful, and I already had that kind of proposal within my reach! Not everyone was so lucky at that time. Too bad I was already in love with someone else, he would have been a good match, he wasn't even your father.... Ah, your father, right! I'm so excited about dinner tonight, it will be the first time in two months that we will all be sitting at a table together. I'll start getting ready now! Or after I finish Susan's roses, so many new and exciting things to do I don't know which one to start with!
-Summer... - Was all Arthur answered with an awkward smile, leaving the can on its side. He took two small steps backwards hoping that his mother would cut the speech short, but what he got was that she threw herself onto the grass to grab him by the leg and prevent him from leaving in desperation. Arthur let out a short cry in fright at the sudden halt and fixed his gaze incredulously on the floor. - You don't have to do this, Mom!
-Son, please! It'll only be a few hours. You can sit next to your sister or have dinner and talk with me. I want to spend time with my family! - Arthur tried to remove the hand that prevented him from leaving by moving his leg a little and keeping his balance with his hands in his pockets, to no avail. He resented the fact that his mother, even though she knew how bad he had a hard time being around his father and circle of friends, was asking him to the point of begging him to make more of an effort to be at such gatherings. -- Please, just one night is all I ask of you, sweetheart! I'll do my best to make sure you have a nice evening and then I'll leave you alone -- But what bothered him even more was that she knew that her tantrums worked to perfection in the young man's soft heart.
-I'll be in the park, maybe I'll go if I see Cecil's car on the way back- he said in a gruff, listless tone. He finally managed to break free from his mother's grip and made his way to the door with a worried gesture, but not before kissing her goodbye on the head and then listening to her celebratory laughter.
Arthur finally resumed what he was doing. He took his keys, some money and a lighter to put them in different pockets of his clothes and started his way to the exit without looking up at any time. However, when he was in front of the door he couldn't help turning around and seeing the family portrait hanging at the end of the hallway that only led to the rooms of its inhabitants, dimly lit, dull and empty unlike the rest of the house that enjoyed a nice decoration, almost exaggerated, thanks to Iris.
That photo tormented him, made him lose his peace of mind and replaced it with guilt. Not only did he consider that it did not match the aesthetics of the rest of the place because of the clothes, positions and serious expressions of everyone, but it also went directly against the image that Antonio wanted to boast so much about his life; and even so, he considered that that image, so inhospitable and dark, represented perfectly what he was and what he had managed to build that man who generated so much sorrow in him. Arthur looked down and let out a slight sigh, leaning his hand on the wall, looking for some comfort in an object that, he considered, more feelings than his father could have. Without even realizing it, he had been keeping his eyes fixed on those of his father's portrait, suddenly the hallway became so dark that for a moment he had to look away so as not to lose himself in the depth of his father's gaze. He felt another weight being placed on him and then touched his head in pain.
-Don't look at me like that... I am not the monster here. «But maybe I am if I let you use her in my place for your bullshit».
