La noche era helada, mucho más de lo corriente en esa época del año, pero aquello no había logrado desanimarla. Se preparaba para salir hacia la casa de su primogénito, luego de una semana encerrada en casa, acompañada de la familia de su hija. Esa noche se reunirían todos alrededor de una mesa cubierta de delicias, frente a un enorme árbol de navidad. Tenía la esperanza de que esta vez Alberto no tomara unas copas de más, desempolvara su guitarra y se pusiera a canta a toda voz. O que su mujer, en un intento por impresionarla, quemara la carne rellena. Nunca acertaba a reaccionar, reír no había sido nunca una buena idea, acababa ofendiendo a todos; tampoco intentar digerir la comida estropeada, el año anterior le había causado un terrible dolor de estómago y ya no estaba para esos excesos.

Se enfundó dentro de una enorme cantidad de chales y bufandas, y colocó un grueso gorro de lana, cubriendo su escaso cabello gris. Sara tenía casi 80 años y ya no podía permitirse el lujo de salir a la calle desabrigada. Sin embargo, pensó que sería un buen día, ya que sus rodillas no se quejaban tanto. Cuando creyó que estaba lista para afrontar el duro clima, se dirigió hacia el espejo. Mirando su reflejo, suspiró… Su belleza y sus buenos años habían quedado atrás, ya no era tan independiente como antes, ni tan ágil. Se había tenido que mudar con su hija, perdiendo lo único que le quedaba: la intimidad. De todos modos, no era infeliz, su esposo era amable y comprensivo y sus hijos cariñosos… Aunque un poco chillones, le vino a susurrar la voz del demonio al oído. Sara sonrió… Sí, sus oídos ya no soportaban tanto barullo, pero los niños… eran niños…

Se dirigió hacia uno de los cajones de su cómoda y, de manera un tanto furtiva, sacó una vieja fotografía de debajo de una pila de ropa. El retrato estaba desgastado por el tiempo y era el de un hombre… A su memoria vinieron miles de recuerdos y sus pálidas mejillas se encendieron de color.

—¡Mamá! ¿Ya estás lista? ¡Llegaremos tarde!

La voz de Natasha, su hija, llegó desde el piso inferior y se coló por una rendija de la puerta entreabierta. Sara suspiró…

Cinco minutos después estaba dentro de un automóvil, un poco apretujada junto a dos chiquillos inquietos. No obstante, no les prestaba atención… sus ojos se posaban en el paisaje invernal y en las luces que pasaban ante sus ojos, como luciérnagas de ciudad. Sus pensamientos, sin embargo, no estaban concentrados en ellas sino que viajaban por remotos recuerdos de juventud.

Cuando tenía catorce años tuvo la desgracia de conocer a Luis, de dieciséis años. Al verse por primera vez, se enamoraron perdidamente… e irremediablemente. Pensó en ese entonces que sería el hombre de su vida, él era su destino, estaba segura. Sin embargo, sus padres no estuvieron de acuerdo. La primera vez que escuchó que algo andaba mal con su novio fue de sus labios. Luis era, lo que en esa época decían: un chico rebelde. Bebía y fumaba. No pertenecía a su club social, ni sus padres, ambos separados desde que era un bebé, eran lo que “debían ser”… Para colmo frecuentaba y era parte de una pandilla juvenil considerada un tanto peligrosa. ¡Estás loca, hija! Solía decirle su horrorizada madre. Por primera vez en su vida tuvo una gran pelea. La primera de una cadena… una cadena de desgracias… una cadena de dolor.

Los novios se adoraban, siempre andaban juntos y sobrevivieron a cuanto muro les pusieron sus padres. Se volvieron rebeldes, incorregibles, iban por la vida a su antojo, sin preocuparse por nada ni por nadie. No obstante, semejante libertad duró poco. Cuando Luis terminó el colegio, su madre, harta de luchar con él, lo inscribió en la Marina. Sara, tampoco se salvó de la furia de sus propios progenitores… La inscribieron en un estricto colegio católico administrado por monjas, para que terminara sus estudios.

Al llegar a este punto en su memoria, la anciana se sintió triste e intentó apartar los pensamientos de su mente. Los años transcurridos en aquel lugar fueron dolorosos y crueles. El colegio tenía normas muy estrictas. No le permitían recibir cartas que no fueran de sus padres y, como la correspondencia era leída siempre por la superiora, no tenía tampoco el consuelo de escribirle a él… Los años transcurrieron, sin embargo, y las monjas pudieron decir que habían logrado “corregirla”, pero en realidad le habían quebrado el espíritu. Cuando al fin pudo salir de allí, intentó buscar a Luis… Nunca supo nada de él.

Antes de que todo su amor se fuera al mismísimo infierno, Sara y Luis se reunieron en el puente del parque, que atravesaba un lago artificial, donde algunos patos mojaban sus patas en verano. El día anterior a Navidad. Allí sellaron un pacto de amor, que duraría toda su vida. Decidieron que cada año, a las seis de la tarde, se reunirían allí.

Lamentablemente, Sara no pudo ir hasta que salió de aquel horrible colegio. Aquel día, a sus diecinueve años de edad, lo esperó con ansias. ¡Qué bien recordaba las emociones que la embargaron aquella tarde, cuando el sol comenzaba a descender en el horizonte! No obstante, esperó… y esperó… y esperó… en vano. Aunque la decepción fue grande, su resolución de asistir cada año no cambió, ni siquiera en el transcurso irremediable del tiempo, cuando pudo comprobar que Luis jamás aparecería.

Al pasar frente a un teatro, las luces iluminaron el rostro de la anciana, un par de lágrimas como frágiles cristales, vinieron a delatar su angustia.

La vida había pasado para ella y ahora la veía como a un tren lleno de personas, transcurriendo a toda velocidad… Volvió a enamorarse, tuvo un par de desengaños, estudió, se casó y tuvo dos hermosos niños. Fue feliz, sí, pero nunca pudo olvidarlo, nunca pudo borrar de su mente la generosidad que lo caracterizaba, ni la grandeza de su alma… Cualidades que sólo ella había visto en él, porque sólo a ella había abierto su corazón, poniendo en evidencia sus más profundos temores y pensamientos.

Sara había cumplido su promesa año tras año… sin rendirse, sin decepcionarse por el mismo resultado… Sin reprocharle a su recuerdo el abandono de aquel pacto de amor… hasta ese día. Por primera vez en su larga vida no creyó indispensable ir al puente del parque. Hacía mucho frío, ya no era joven y había perdido las esperanzas. Con toda seguridad Luis probablemente hubiera muerto ya.

Así que no fue… Sin embargo, la angustia había poblado los profundos pueblos abandonados de su corazón. Pueblos donde ella era la reina absoluta. Sin rey… sin esperanza.

Estaban llegando a la casa de su hijo mayor y la inquietud de que se había olvidado de algo la embargó. Ella sabía bien qué, por lo que se reprochó a sí misma por su estupidez. ¡Había sido terriblemente romántica toda su vida! Y aquello la había llevado por oscuros caminos… ¡Ya era hora de que dejara el pasado atrás! Ya era hora de que aceptara que Luis se había ido… y que no volvería jamás.

Cuando abrió la puerta su hijo, fue recibida por una montaña de abrazos y besos, que podían haberle mitigado la angustia pero sólo logró aligerar su espíritu. Las ganas de llorar vinieron a molestarla. Sin embargo, pudo contenerse. Tenía una hermosa familia y eran felices… ¿Qué más podía pedirle a la vida? El olor dulzón a pan de navidad vino a removerle el estómago y sus pensamientos se dirigieron a cuestiones culinarias. No había olor a quemado, por lo que sonrió.

La comida fue magnífica realmente y el vino, que tomaba cuando Natasha no la miraba, era del más fino. La calidez vino a reconfortarla y la reconcilió con sus decisiones. Para los postres reía con entusiasmo y celebraba las ocurrencias de sus nietos más pequeños. Pero… como una trampa del destino… vio un cuadro de familia y se quedó helada.

—¿Te gustan? —Alberto, su hijo, la había observado detenerse frente a la pared del recibidor, donde recientemente él y su esposa habían colgado algunos cuadros antiguos de familia.

Allí estaba su retrato de matrimonio. Walter había sido su esposo, un hombre muy diferente a Luis… taciturno, reservado. Le había dado dos hijos y una vida feliz hasta que murió joven, a los cuarenta años. Luego de él no había habido hombre en su vida. Los siguientes cuarenta años había trascurrido en trabajos de tiempo completo, angustias por el porvenir y preocupaciones por sus hijos.

El retrato de su feliz pero corto matrimonio no había sido el motivo de su perplejidad… sino el de sus padres. Le había traído malos recuerdos. Allí estaba su madre, con un serio vestido gris de cuello alto y su padre, que pasaba su mano por sobre su hombro… Un hombre insensible, estricto. Todavía guardaba un secreto rencor hacia ellos, por arruinarle el amor que había tenido en su juventud.

—Sí —susurró sin poder ocultar su desánimo. Aquel nuevo viaje al pasado volvía a traerle a Luis a su memoria y a aquella promesa que acababa de incumplir.

—¿Estás bien, mamá?

—Sí, sí, claro —respondió, haciendo un gesto con la mano, para que no se preocupara.

En cuanto pudo, se libró de él y fue al baño. Se sentía mal y sabía que la única forma en que podría cambiar aquel sentimiento y disfrutar con su familia sería cumpliendo con la promesa… Tendría que ir al puente. ¡Era una locura! Lo sabía. La culpa no la dejaba en paz. El parque, donde se elevaba el famoso puente, estaba a sólo cuatro cuadras de allí pero, a su edad y con la imposibilidad de ser conducida a él por automóvil, sin nombrar lo crudo del clima y la hora, hacían que la distancia fuera mucho mayor.

Se enfundó en sus chales, bufandas y gorros, y se preparó para salir. Fue una mala suerte que en la entrada la pillara Ania, la esposa de su hijo.

—¿A dónde va, abuela Sara?

—Aquí no más… —respondió con molestia, sintiendo que otra vez tenía catorce años.

—¿Mamá? ¿Te marchas? —Natasha había escuchado su conversación y se acercó a ellas.

—No, sólo iré por unos cigarrillos.

—Recuerda lo que dijo el doctor… ¡No puedes fumar!

—Cariño, no me fastidies. Ya vuelvo —dijo y abrió la puerta.

No obstante, no la dejarían ir tan fácil, pronto se unió a ellas su hijo y le propuso ir él, ¡comenzaba a helar! Sara, ya molesta, salió de repente de la casa y les cerró la puerta en las narices. Se sentía otra vez como una niña, controlada por sus padres, como en su remoto pasado.

—¡Pero… si ya casi es noche buena! —Aquello fue lo último que escuchó de la boca de su primogénito.

Las cuadras que la separaban de su destino se hicieron eternas. El clima era muy frío y pronto sus rodillas comenzaron a dolerle. No se rindió, sin embargo. Como era de esperar se encontró en el parque al ocaso de sus fuerzas, que a esa hora estaba solitario y oscuro. Ni pensó en el peligro de encontrarse con un delincuente, ¿qué podía robarle a una pobre vieja?

Las tenues luces iluminaban pocos sectores del parque. Lo atravesó con una inquietud diferente, muy distinta a la sentida por un inminente y probable encuentro, esta vez pensó que quizás no había sido buena idea ir hasta allí en ese horario. Si por un milagro, en el cual no creía, Luis hubiera aparecido a esa hora seguro ya no estaba. Reconoció, no obstante, que no iba para esperarlo, ya que hacía años que había perdido las esperanzas de verlo, sino para cumplir aquella promesa.

Subió el puente con una sensación de alivio. Se detuvo casi en el centro y se inclinó por la barandilla. El lago estaba congelado, el silencio era casi palpable y la soledad podía respirarse. Había ido en vano, lo sabía, pero aquello logró mitigar la inquietud de su alma. Había cumplido con su deber. De todos modos, se arrepintió cuando el lejano sonido de las bengalas llegó hasta ella, anunciando la llegada de la noche buena… Ya era Navidad.

Con un suspiro, quitó sus huesudas manos de la barandilla y se dio vuelta para retirarse…

—¿Sara?

Dio un respingo del susto y se dio media vuelta. Al principio pensó que el viejo de largo saco oscuro que la miraba, iba a robarle. Su primer impulso fue sacar el celular, que nunca aprendió a usar bien y que le irritaba escucharlo, y largárselo por la cabeza; con suerte podría huir… El tipo se veía algo enclenque. Luego cayó en la cuenta de que había pronunciado su nombre.

—¿Lo conozco? —Trató de que su voz sonara firme y amenazante, pero no lo consiguió.

Temió por su vida un instante, hasta que el viejo rió. Aquello logró desconcertarla.

—¿No me recuerdas? Soy Luis —dijo, acercándose más a ella. La luz de la luna dio de plano en su rostro.

Sara se quedó perpleja, sin poder reaccionar. No podía reconocer en aquel rostro a su antiguo novio de juventud. No quedaba nada de él en el reducido organismo de aquel anciano. Era pequeño y su espalda se había encorvado. Su rostro estaba surcado por miles de arrugas y sólo en sus ojos claros pudo ver vestigios de su antiguo esplendor.

—¿Luis? —Se detuvo, sin saber qué decir… Y, después de tantos años soñando con aquel encuentro, sólo se le ocurrió decirle el único reproche que en su vida había atesorado—. No cumpliste tu promesa.

Su voz sonó demasiado seria y con un rencor que Luis no había esperado…

—Te equivocas, siempre vine. Todos los años —replicó.

Sara se enojó. Por primera vez se peleaban…

—¡Pero si nunca te he visto!

Luis suspiró y señaló hacia su espalda…

—Nunca dejé que me vieras. Te observaba desde ese banco… con eso me contentaba.

La anciana, sorprendida por la revelación, quiso saber sus razones. Luis, entonces, le contó su historia…

Había estado más cerca de su vida de lo que había imaginado Sara, en las sombras. Celebró sus progresos, sus sueños cumplidos y hasta su matrimonio.

—Pero… ¿Pero, por qué? ¡Te esperé todos estos años!

—Porque una vez había arruinado tu vida… y no quería volver a hacerlo…

—No arruinaste mi vida —le dijo negando, con lágrimas en los ojos.

—¡Oh, Sara! No lo comprendes. Vivía en ese entonces en pleno caos, jugué demasiado tiempo con los vicios, sólo quería vivir el presente, y, lamentablemente, te arrastré a ello. Eras muy pequeña como para darte cuenta. Nunca fui un buen hombre…

—No es cierto…

—Sí, lo es. No duré en La Marina mucho tiempo. Tus padres tenían razón. Si me hubiera acercado a ti, hubiera traído el dolor de nuevo a tu vida. Habría arruinado irremediablemente tu futuro como arruiné el de mi pobre madre —dijo emocionado y suspiró—. Ella perdió todo su dinero y yo terminé en la cárcel un tiempo. Allí aprendí a rehacer mi vida egoísta y supe que jamás debía volver a acercarme. Yo sólo me contentaba con ver que eras feliz… Era la única manera de que podía serlo yo también.

Sara miró sus dulces ojos claros y pudo ver en ellos el alma quebrada por tantos años de sufrimiento y privaciones, a los cuales lo había condenado su carácter libre e incorregible, sus vicios fuera de control y la malicia del destino. ¿Hubieran sido felices juntos?

—Pero hoy…

—Como esta tarde no apareciste me quedé inquieto, pensé que al fin habías partido a un mundo mejor y me imaginé la vida sin ti… Fue horrible… Me quedé, no tenía a dónde ir, esperando algo… no sé… quizá un milagro… Un milagro de Navidad… Y aquí estás —dijo sonriendo, con una lágrima que se deslizaba por su huesuda mejilla.

—Temiste que hubiera muerto… ¡Oh, Luis!... Yo pensé que habías muerto hace mucho tiempo —sollozó Sara y, dejándose llevar por un impulso, lo abrazó.

—No habría vida sin ti, Sara.

The night was freezing, much colder than usual for that time of the year, but that had not discouraged her. She was getting ready to leave for her firstborn's house, after a week cooped up at home, accompanied by her daughter's family. That night they would all gather around a table covered with delicacies, in front of a huge Christmas tree. He hoped that this time Alberto wouldn't have a few too many drinks, dust off his guitar and start singing at the top of his voice. Or that his wife, in an attempt to impress her, would burn the stuffed meat. He never knew how to react, laughing had never been a good idea, it ended up offending everyone; nor did he try to digest the spoiled food, the previous year it had caused him a terrible stomach ache and he was no longer in the mood for such excesses.

She bundled herself inside a huge amount of shawls and scarves, and put on a thick woolen cap, covering her sparse gray hair. Sara was almost 80 years old and could no longer afford to go out in the street unclothed. However, she thought it would be a good day, since her knees weren't complaining as much. When she thought she was ready to face the harsh weather, she walked over to the mirror. Looking at her reflection, she sighed... Her beauty and good years were behind her, she was no longer as independent as before, nor as agile. She had had to move in with her daughter, losing the only thing she had left: intimacy. Anyway, she was not unhappy, her husband was kind and understanding and her children were loving... Although a bit shrill, the voice of the demon came to whisper in her ear. Sara smiled... Yes, her ears could no longer stand so much noise, but the children... were children...

She reached into one of her dresser drawers and, somewhat furtively, pulled out an old photograph from under a pile of clothes. The portrait was weathered by time and was that of a man... A thousand memories came to her memory and her pale cheeks flared with color.

“Mom, are you ready yet? We're going to be late!”

The voice of Natasha, her daughter, came from downstairs and slipped through a crack in the half-open door. Sara sighed...

Five minutes later she was inside a car, a little cramped together with two restless children. However, she paid no attention to them... her eyes were focused on the winter landscape and the lights passing before her eyes, like city fireflies. His thoughts, however, were not focused on them but traveled through remote memories of youth.

When she was fourteen years old, she had the misfortune to meet sixteen-year-old Luis. When they met for the first time, they fell hopelessly in love... and irremediably. She thought then that he would be the man of her life, he was her destiny, she was sure. However, her parents disagreed. The first time she heard that something was wrong with her boyfriend was from their lips. Luis was, what they said at the time: a rebellious boy. He drank and smoked. He didn't belong to his social club, nor were his parents, both separated since he was a baby, what they "should be"... To top it off, he frequented and was part of a youth gang considered somewhat dangerous. You're crazy, daughter! her horrified mother used to tell her. For the first time in her life she had a big fight. The first in a chain... a chain of misfortunes... a chain of pain.

The bride and groom adored each other, always walked together and survived every wall their parents put up against them. They became rebellious, incorrigible, they went through life as they pleased, without worrying about anything or anyone. However, such freedom was short-lived. When Luis finished school, his mother, tired of fighting with him, enrolled him in the Navy. Sara, too, was not spared the fury of her own parents... They enrolled her in a strict Catholic school run by nuns, so that she could finish her studies.

At this point in her memory, the old woman felt sad and tried to push the thoughts from her mind. The years spent in that place were painful and cruel. The school had very strict rules. She was not allowed to receive letters other than from her parents and, as the correspondence was always read by the superior, she had no comfort in writing to him either... The years passed, however, and the nuns could say that they had succeeded in "correcting" her, but in reality they had broken her spirit. When she was finally able to leave, she tried to look for Luis... She never heard from him.

Before all their love went to hell itself, Sara and Luis met on the bridge of the park, which crossed an artificial lake, where some ducks wet their feet in summer. The day before Christmas. There they sealed a pact of love that would last all their lives. They decided that every year, at six o'clock in the evening, they would meet there.

Unfortunately, Sara was not able to go until she left that horrible school. On that day, at nineteen years of age, she looked forward to it, and how well she remembered the emotions that filled her that afternoon, as the sun began to descend on the horizon! Nevertheless, she waited... and waited... and waited... in vain. Although the disappointment was great, his resolution to attend every year did not change, not even in the irremediable course of time, when he could see that Luis would never show up.

As she passed in front of a theater, the lights illuminated the old woman's face, a couple of tears, like fragile crystals, came to betray her anguish.

Life had passed for her and now she saw it as a train full of people, passing at full speed... She fell in love again, had a couple of disappointments, studied, got married and had two beautiful children. He was happy, yes, but she could never forget him, she could never erase from her mind the generosity that characterized him, nor the greatness of his soul... Qualities that only she had seen in him, because only to her he had opened his heart, revealing his deepest fears and thoughts.

Sara had kept her promise year after year... without giving up, without being disappointed by the same result... without reproaching her memory for the abandonment of that pact of love... until that day. For the first time in his long life he did not think it essential to go to the bridge in the park. It was too cold, he was no longer young and he had given up hope. In all likelihood Luis would probably have died by now.

So she didn't go... However, anguish had populated the deep abandoned villages of her heart. Villages where she was the absolute queen. No king... no hope.

They were arriving at her eldest son's house and the uneasiness that she had forgotten something seized her. She knew well what, so she reproached herself for her stupidity. She had been terribly romantic all her life! And that had led her down dark paths... It was time she put the past behind her! It was time for her to accept that Luis was gone... and would never come back!

When her son opened the door, she was greeted by a mountain of hugs and kisses, which might have eased her anguish but only lightened her spirits. The urge to cry came to bother her. However, she was able to restrain herself. She had a beautiful family and they were happy... What more could she ask of life? The sweetish smell of Christmas bread came to stir her stomach and her thoughts turned to culinary matters. There was no smell of burning, so he smiled.

The food was superb really and the wine, which he drank when Natasha wasn't looking, was of the finest. The warmth came to comfort her and reconciled her to her choices. For desserts she laughed heartily and celebrated the witticisms of her youngest grandchildren. But...like a trap of fate...she saw a family picture and froze.

“Do you like them?” Alberto, her son, had watched her stop in front of the hall wall, where he and his wife had recently hung some old family pictures.

There was their wedding portrait. Walter had been her husband, a man very different from Luis... taciturn, reserved. He had given her two children and a happy life until he died young, at the age of forty. After him there had been no man in her life. The next forty years had been spent in full-time jobs, anxieties about the future and worries about her children.

The portrait of her happy but short-lived marriage had not been the reason for her perplexity... but that of her parents. It had brought back bad memories. There was her mother, in a serious grey turtleneck dress and her father, who was running his hand over her shoulder... An insensitive, strict man. She still held a secret grudge against them, for ruining the love she had had in her youth.

“Yes," she whispered, unable to hide her discouragement. This new trip to the past brought Luis back to his memory and to the promise he had just broken.

“Are you all right, Mom?”

“Yes, yes, of course," she answered, waving her hand so he wouldn't worry.

As soon as she could, she got rid of him and went to the bathroom. He felt bad and knew that the only way he could change that feeling and enjoy being with his family would be to keep his promise... He would have to go to the bridge. It was crazy! She knew it. The guilt would not leave her alone. The park, where the famous bridge rose, was only four blocks away but, at her age and with the impossibility of being driven to it by car, not to mention the harsh weather and the hour, made the distance much longer.

She bundled up in her shawls, scarves and hats, and prepared to leave. It was unfortunate that she was caught in the driveway by Ania, her son's wife.

“Where are you going, grandmother Sara?”

“Not here anymore...", she answered with annoyance, feeling that she was fourteen years old again.

“Mom? Are you leaving?” Natasha had overheard their conversation and approached them.

“No, I'm just going to get some cigarettes.”

“Remember what the doctor said... You can't smoke!”

“Honey, don't tease me. I'll be right back," she said and opened the door.

However, they would not let her go so easily, soon her son joined them and proposed to go himself, it was beginning to freeze! Sara, already annoyed, suddenly left the house and slammed the door in their faces. She felt like a child again, controlled by her parents, as in her remote past.

“But... it's almost Christmas Eve!” That was the last thing she heard from the mouth of her firstborn.

The blocks that separated her from her destination took forever. The weather was very cold and soon her knees began to ache. She did not give up, however. As expected she found herself in the park at the twilight of her strength, which at that hour was lonely and dark. Nor did she think of the danger of meeting a criminal, what could she steal from a poor old woman?

The dim lights illuminated a few sectors of the park. She crossed it with a different uneasiness, very different from that felt by an imminent and probable encounter, this time she thought that perhaps it had not been a good idea to go there at that time. If by a miracle, in which he did not believe, Luis had appeared at that hour, he would surely not be there anymore. He recognized, however, that he was not going there to wait for him, since he had given up hope of seeing him years ago, but to fulfill that promise.

She walked up the bridge with a sense of relief. She stopped almost in the middle and leaned over the railing. The lake was frozen, the silence was almost palpable and the loneliness could be breathed. He had gone in vain, he knew, but that managed to mitigate the restlessness in his soul. He had done his duty. Anyway, she regretted it when the distant sound of sparklers reached her, announcing the arrival of Christmas Eve... It was already Christmas.

With a sigh, she removed her bony hands from the railing and turned to leave...

“Sara?”

She gasped in fright and turned away. At first she thought that the old man in the long dark coat who was staring at her was going to rob her. Her first impulse was to pull out her cell phone, which she had never learned to use well and which irritated her to hear, and throw it over her head; hopefully she could run away... The guy looked kind of puny. Then it dawned on him that he had spoken his name.

“Do I know him?” He tried to make his voice sound firm and threatening, but he didn't succeed.

She feared for her life for a moment, until the old man laughed. That managed to disconcert her.

“Don't you remember me? I'm Luis," he said, moving closer to her. The moonlight fell flat on his face.

Sara was perplexed, unable to react. She could not recognize in that face her old boyfriend from her youth. There was nothing left of him in the old man's small body. He was small and his back was hunched. His face was furrowed with thousands of wrinkles and only in his clear eyes could she see traces of his former splendor.

“Luis?” He stopped, not knowing what to say... And, after so many years dreaming of that meeting, it only occurred to him to tell her the only reproach he had ever treasured in his life. You didn't keep your promise.

His voice sounded too serious and with a rancor that Luis had not expected...

“You're wrong, I always came. Every year," he replied.

Sara got angry. For the first time they were fighting...

“But I've never seen you!”

Luis sighed and pointed to his back...

“I never let you see me. I watched you from that bench... that was enough for me.”

The old woman, surprised by the revelation, wanted to know his reasons. Luis, then, told her his story.

He had been closer to her life than Sara had imagined, in the shadows. He celebrated her progress, her fulfilled dreams and even her marriage.

“But... But why? I waited for you all these years!”

“Because once I had ruined your life... and I didn't want to do it again.”

“You didn't ruin my life," she denied, tears in her eyes.”

“Oh, Sara! You don't understand. I was living in chaos back then, I played too long with vices, I only wanted to live in the present, and, unfortunately, I dragged you into it. You were too little to realize it. I was never a good man...”

“It's not true.”

“Yes, you were. I didn't last in the Navy very long. Your parents were right. If I had gotten close to you, I would have brought pain back into your life. I would have irreparably ruined your future like I ruined my poor mother's," he said emotionally and sighed. She lost all her money and I ended up in jail for a while. There I learned to rebuild my selfish life and I knew never to go near her again. I was just content to see you happy... It was the only way I could be happy too.”

Sara looked into his sweet clear eyes and could see in them the soul broken by so many years of suffering and deprivation, to which his free and incorrigible character, his out-of-control vices and the malice of destiny had condemned him. Would they have been happy together?

“But today...”

“I thought you had finally left for a better world and I imagined life without you... It was horrible... I stayed, I had nowhere to go, waiting for something... I don't know... maybe a miracle... A Christmas miracle... And here you are," he said smiling, with a tear sliding down his bony cheek.”

“You feared that I had died... Oh, Luis! I thought you had died a long time ago," sobbed Sara and, on impulse, she hugged him.

“There would be no life without you, Sara.”

Autora: Eugenia Maradona

Utilicé Canva para editar las fotografías y el traductor https://www.deepl.com/translator.