Romantic Comedy
The Weight of Inheritance
Saturday dinners were like an institution among friends. Not an institution of excellence, like public education.
They were more like the Civil Registry : something slow, uncomfortable, smelling of disinfectant, and with many obligations to fulfill.
Andrés and Clara usually arrived at their meetings with enviable punctuality.
But Marcos and Cecilia arrived with an Argentine punctuality.
That night Marcos was talking about his favorite topic, which was none other than himself.
"I'm thinking about changing my car," he said thoughtfully . "Mine is over a year old and it seems a bit old."
Clara drank wine as if she had just received a court sentence.
—"Marcos... you change cars like others change their socks."—
—"Exactly! But we have to renew ourselves!"— he replied, puffing out his chest.
Cecilia muttered jokingly:
—"I would change husbands, but it seems the dealership is closed."— she said while surreptitiously glancing at her friend's husband.
Andrés coughed loudly to stifle his laughter. In a way, he always found Cecilia 's jokes amusing .
—"Is everything alright, Andrés?"— Clara asked with that coldness that characterized her.
—"Yes, yes... I just choked on my drink"— he said while briefly glancing at Cecilia.
The inheritance arrived with the surprise that misfortunes often bring: on a Tuesday morning. Cecilia received a notification informing her that she had received an inheritance.
Cecilia casually called her friend's husband:
—"Andrés, I have a small problem and I need to deal with it, if possible with your advice."—
—"Another problem? I should give you a fixed shift already."— she said cheerfully.
—"My aunt left me money. A lot of money."—
—"But Ceci, that doesn't sound like a problem."—
—"Of course. You know I'm terrible with money, imagine an inheritance. If I buy a boat, it'll probably sink."
"Okay..." he said . "Come to the office and I'll advise you. And don't buy anything on the way."
When she arrived, he placed a huge folder on the desk.
—"This is the inheritance."— she said with a hint of guilt.
—"Wow. That sounds like a doctoral thesis."—
—"Yes, but this one has a lot of numbers. You know that I and numbers... we have a complicated relationship."—
—"How complicated?"—
—"More than once I've paid the same tax twice. I have to admit it: I'm a scatterbrain."—
He stared at her, smiling, but unsure whether to make a joke, comfort her, or call a responsible adult to accompany her.
They worked for an hour. Or at least, they tried.
—"This is simple," Andrés explained . "We need to assess the risks..."
—"Ah, yes, the risks. What are the risks?"—
—"Invest everything in some high-risk investment fund. The key is diversification. In other words: don't put all your eggs in one basket."
—"That's what my parents always said! But you know I'm a bit of a dreamer..."—
—“Okay, but I don’t think you’re that terrible.”—
—“No? Then how do you explain that when I play the lottery I can never find the tickets? I lose them almost the same day…”—
Andrés put down the pen.
—“Didn’t it occur to you that you’re more absentminded than terrible…?”—
Cecilia was left thinking.
—“Well…maybe….”— she said, not very sure.
The first incident occurred when they both wanted to reach for the same highlighter.
—“Sorry…”— she said.
—“It’s just a highlighter… there are others.”— he said.
—“Yes, but when you touched my hand, I felt… electricity.”—
—“It must be static…”— he lied, though in reality he had enjoyed the touch.
—“Static… does it seem to you?”—
—“Well… I don’t know, Cecilia. Emotional connections can be strange sometimes.”—
They both felt a small connection. The silence that followed had a hint of…complication.
A few days later, the second touch was less… accidental.
Andrés asked her to come to the office so he could give her the good news in person. He had realized that the inheritance was even larger than Cecilia had been told . Among the papers, hidden amidst old notifications, were some shares—shares that were still active and performing very well.
Cecilia gave him a tight hug when she told him. Andrés felt the enveloping perfume of her hair and his friend's body pressing against him.
—“I’m rich!”— she said excitedly.
—“It seems so.”— replied Andrés, pleased for her.
—“I am rich! I am dangerous! I am untouchable!”—
—“No, that’s Marcos.”— said Andrés , who found the enthusiasm amusing.
She laughed.
Him too.
And then... they kissed.
Without premeditation, without permission or plans. Without any logic.
A kiss that tasted a little like panic… long held back.
When they separated, he tried to be correct:
—“This is a mistake.”—
She nodded, but for the first time in her life, she was consistent with her feelings.
—“Yes. But what a… expected mistake.”— she said while blushing .
His sincerity only served to disarm Andrés .
From then on, Cecilia looked for any excuse to go to Andrés' office, which became a headquarters of the improvised chaos in which the lives of the unexpected lovers were unfolding.
One day Clara appeared unannounced.
—“I came so we could have lunch together.”— she said.
Cecilia was hiding behind a curtain. Literally. Andrés had been signaling to her desperately.
—“You’re nervous.”— Clara said , narrowing her eyes.
—“No, no… it’s just that I bought a pen and I think the ink gave me… an allergic reaction.”—
—“Allergy to ink?”—
—“Yes. Very strange. But it happened to me before… several years ago.”—
From behind the curtains, Cecilia sneezed slightly, like a kitten.
—“What was that?”— Clara asked .
—“The walls. In this building they seem to be made of paper. It’s the neighbor.”— Andrés said, improvising. —“It sounds like she sneezed.”—
Clara looked at him as if she were scrutinizing him. When you have a guilty conscience, everything feels like an accusation.
Another afternoon, Marcos called Cecilia while she was literally sitting on Andrés 's lap , who was holding her by wrapping his arms around her waist.
—“Where are you?”— Marcos asked .
—“In gymnastics… I started at a new gym.”— she improvised.
—“Which gym?”— the husband asked her.
Cecilia whispered desperately to Andrés while covering the microphone:
—“Which gym should I tell you about?”—
Andrés tried to remember the name of a gym that was nearby:
—“Damn it… what was it again…? I know… MultiSport! Tell him MultiSport.”— he whispered urgently.
She went back to her cell phone.
—“One called MultiSport. A friend recommended it to me…”— he tried to sound convincing.
—“Which friend?”— Marcos asked .
Desperate, she looked at Andrés and thought to say:
—“Andrea… I don’t think you know her…”—
Andrés stifled a scream.
Marcos seemed to accept the answer as valid.
The romance continued to grow, awkward, ridiculous, complicated.
They lived on the edge of danger. In secret, with impossible conversations. With WhatsApp messages completely deleted.
They would lock themselves in the bathrooms to chat. They waited for their partners to come out.
—“This is dangerous.”— said Andrés .
Cecilia took advantage of the gym lie to meet with Andrés twice a week.
—“I live stressed out. Sometimes I think Marcos suspects something.”— she said while she was naked in Andrés’s arms.
—“I feel the same way. I feel like we’re going to be discovered.”— he said.
—“If they discover us… what do you plan to do?”— Cecilia asked , interested.
—“In a way, I’d love to. I mean, it would be a huge mess… but we wouldn’t have to pretend. What about you? Would you come with me?”
—“Yes.”— she said, relieved.
One night they got carried away and ended up lying on the carpet in Andrés ' studio , laughing without really knowing why.
Cecilia said:
—“Do you know what the worst part is?”—
-"That?"-
—“I love being here.”—
He rested his forehead against hers.
—“Me too. But this is a huge mess.”—
-"Giant."-
—“Colossal.” —
—“Like Marcos trying to park.”—
-"Exact."-
She hugged him tightly, as if he were a life preserver and she a voluntary castaway.
—“What are we going to do?”— he asked.
He thought for a few seconds.
—“I… haven’t the slightest idea.”—
-"Me neither."-
—“We are lost.”—
—“Yes. But we’re together.”—
They looked at each other.
And they laughed again.
Because, deep down, chaos was the only place where they truly felt alive.
END
🔹 Go to the "Humor Stories Section"
🔹 Go to the "What's New on This Website" section
Tags:
#PulpScienceFiction
#ExtravagantAdventure
#FantasticHumor
#GalacticCaravans
#UnexpectedRomance
#MerchantsAndAristocrats
#LoveAndMisadventure
#RidiculousJealousy
#GuardDogs
#AbsurdHumor
#RetroFantasy
#LeorinAndCalyraAdventures
#RodriacCopen
No comments:
Post a Comment