– Gata, Papa\u0219a, acuma, \u021bine-\u021bi caii…<\/p>\n\n\n\n Are privirea u\u0219or aburit\u0103 \u0219i mi\u0219c\u0103rile \u00eencetinite de oboseal\u0103. \u00cen plus, de afar\u0103 intr\u0103 aerul parfumat al \u00eenceputului de prim\u0103var\u0103, purtat de undele unui u\u0219or crepuscul. E ora c\u00e2nd Bucure\u0219tiul tace \u0219i se \u00eenvele\u0219te \u00eentr-o p\u0103tur\u0103 de melancolie macabr\u0103, ca-n anticamera unui crematoriu. B\u0103iatul e sensibil la nuan\u021be \u0219i mirosuri, la gesturi \u0219i muzic\u0103. \u00cen plus, e terorizat de tot ce-l \u00eenconjoar\u0103. Se hot\u0103r\u0103\u0219te \u00een sf\u00e2r\u0219it \u0219i las\u0103 s\u0103 curg\u0103 \u00een bucl\u0103 un Buddha Bar neutru, dar care-i pare c\u0103 s-ar potrivi cu langoarea \u00eenser\u0103rii. Se \u00eentoarce spre Papa\u0219a \u0219i-i r\u00e2nje\u0219te cu to\u021bi din\u021bii. B\u0103rbatul d\u0103 din cap \u0219i-l prive\u0219te cu ochii apo\u0219i, d\u0103 drumul unui r\u00e2g\u00e2it prelung \u0219i-\u0219i \u00eentinde picioarele groase, \u00eentinde m\u00e2inile spre ceaf\u0103 \u0219i r\u0103m\u00e2ne a\u0219a, satisf\u0103cut, apoi \u00eei zice celuilalt, C\u00e2inele:<\/p>\n\n\n\n – \u0218i ce faci, m\u0103? Taci acuma toat\u0103 noaptea?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Cu o s\u0103pt\u0103m\u00e2n\u0103 \u00een urm\u0103, \u00een acela\u0219i loc, \u00ee\u0219i adunase tot curajul ca s\u0103 le citeasc\u0103 un poem interminabil \u00een care descria o lume subacvatic\u0103, st\u0103p\u00e2nit\u0103 de Regele Ichtius \u0219i b\u0103tut\u0103 de uragane abstruse, tornade \u0219i v\u00e2rtejuri rupte din Poe…<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n C\u00e2inele tocmai le citise dintr-un volum de poeme publicat prin 1988, singurul de altfel, le citise un poem lung despre o ninsoare improbabil\u0103, deasupra unui ora\u0219 mediteraneean, o lacustr\u0103 troienit\u0103 \u00een care vene\u021bii atacau noaptea castrele romane, meduzele uria\u0219e se fofilau pe l\u00e2ng\u0103 st\u00e2lpii uria\u0219i din lemn pe care st\u0103tea ora\u0219ul. A fost momentul prelung c\u00e2nd B\u0103iatul a sim\u021bit c\u0103 i se face r\u0103u, f\u0103r\u0103 leg\u0103tur\u0103 cu vodka de care nici nu se atinsese, f\u0103r\u0103 leg\u0103tur\u0103 cu foamea sau cu oboseala. Era aceea\u0219i rol\u0103 de p\u00e2sl\u0103 care se scurgea pe fereastr\u0103 \u00een cas\u0103 \u0219i care se unea la nivelul ochilor cu povestea pe care o spunea poemul demodat \u0219i trist, nelalocul lui \u00een mintea \u0219i \u00een gura C\u00e2inelui care, ca orice c\u00e2ine, era un cinic absolut.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u0218i ca s\u0103 rup\u0103 rola de p\u00e2sl\u0103, se ridic\u0103 \u00een picioare, con\u0219tient c\u0103 ar fi penibil \u0219i, sub ochii amuza\u021bi ai celor doi b\u0103rba\u021bi maturi, scoate h\u00e2rtia de matematic\u0103 din buzunarul de la spate al blugilor \u0219i \u00eencepe s\u0103 citeasc\u0103 primul vers:<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Ha!? Face Papa\u0219a, care e surd, sau se preface doar ca s\u0103-l terorizeze. Mai tare, puiu\u021b! \u0218i-nchide-n pula mea l\u0103l\u0103iala aia!<\/p>\n\n\n\n B\u0103iatul e stacojiu, e indignat \u0219i vrea s\u0103 intre \u00een p\u0103m\u00e2nt sau s\u0103 se piard\u0103 \u00eentre magnoliile de la geam. \u00cen acela\u0219i moment aude r\u0103cnetul c\u00e2ntat al \u021big\u0103ncii care cere ceva de c\u00e2nd e el mic, care-\u0219i c\u00e2nt\u0103 jalea prin spatele blocurilor. C\u00e2ntecul \u0103sta \u00eel \u00eengrozea, \u00eel f\u0103cea s\u0103 se chirceasc\u0103 \u00een pat \u0219i s\u0103 decanteze ceva ce \u00eenc\u0103 nu \u00een\u021belegea \u0219i probabil c\u0103 nu \u00een\u021belege nici acum, pentru c\u0103 e vorba de triste\u021bea de moarte, iar el \u00eenc\u0103 n-a avut revela\u021bia asta. E nemuritor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n – S\u0103-\u021bi mai citeasc\u0103 \u021bie Pulea Sp\u0103taru, \u00eei arunc\u0103 lui Papa\u0219a \u0219i \u00eendeas\u0103 h\u00e2rtia \u00een buzunar. Muistule! \u00eei adaug\u0103 imperial.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Cel\u0103lalt e serios, apos \u0219i cumva urban.<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Ce s\u0103-\u021bi zic! S-a sup\u0103rat Mi\u021bica! B\u0103i, Ichtius, tot cu saramur\u0103 era \u0219i asta?<\/p>\n\n\n\n C\u00e2inele \u00ee\u0219i aprinde tacticos o \u021bigar\u0103, se pune picior peste picior \u0219i savureaz\u0103 scena z\u00e2mbind. Are p\u0103rul lins, alb, dat pe st\u00e2nga \u0219i un neg pe obraz, eman\u0103 agresivitate. B\u0103iatul nu se simte bine \u00een prezen\u021ba lui. \u00cen acela\u0219i tip, o caut\u0103.<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Da, m\u0103, era cu saramur\u0103, inteligentule!<\/p>\n\n\n\n Cu o s\u0103pt\u0103m\u00e2n\u0103 \u00een urm\u0103, \u00een acela\u0219i loc, \u00ee\u0219i adunase tot curajul ca s\u0103 le citeasc\u0103 un poem interminabil \u00een care descria o lume subacvatic\u0103, st\u0103p\u00e2nit\u0103 de Regele Ichtius \u0219i b\u0103tut\u0103 de uragane abstruse, tornade \u0219i v\u00e2rtejuri rupte din Poe, pe\u0219ti luciferici ai h\u0103urilor \u0219i caravele v\u0103zute din ad\u00e2ncuri. Poemul trezise o hilaritate neostoit\u0103-n grup, lucru tragic, pentru c\u0103 de fa\u021b\u0103 erau \u0219i \u201efetele\u201d, adic\u0103 Mariana \u0219i Corina. Mariana de la Politic era o femeie trecut\u0103 de 35 de ani, \u00eenalt\u0103, cu pieptul mare, b\u0103ie\u021boas\u0103 \u0219i \u00eenfipt\u0103, care purta sacouri ca-n Burda copil\u0103riei lui \u0219i ni\u0219te pantofi cu toc \u00eenalt \u0219i solid \u2013 sem\u0103nau cu picioarele unui pod \u2013, decupa\u021bi \u00een fa\u021b\u0103 destul c\u00e2t s\u0103 lase vederii dou\u0103 degete ojate \u0219i chinuite, adesea vine\u021bii. Se glumea pe seama ei c\u0103 imediat dup\u0103 ce lua interviu vreunui politician mai puriu, \u0103la murea, asta dup\u0103 nu mai pu\u021bin de \u0219ase asemenea coinciden\u021be. Corina era o fat\u0103 cu doi ani mai mare dec\u00e2t el, de la investiga\u021bii, t\u0103cut\u0103, cu o acnee tragic\u0103 ascuns\u0103 prost sub fondul de ten care-i d\u0103dea aspectul unei ghei\u0219e moarte, totu\u0219i o ghei\u0219\u0103.<\/p>\n\n\n\n C\u00e2inele se ridic\u0103 brusc \u00een picioare, \u00ee\u0219i toarn\u0103 din sticla de Stalinskaia, aprinde o \u021bigar\u0103, apoi vars\u0103 din pahar pe linoleumul verde, murdar. Papa\u0219a sare imediat \u00een picioare, blugii \u00eei coboar\u0103 destul c\u00e2t s\u0103 i se vad\u0103 cr\u0103p\u0103tura fundului, B\u0103iatul face la fel, to\u021bi trei devin sobri \u0219i taciturni, apoi C\u00e2inele gl\u0103suie\u0219te demn:<\/p>\n\n\n\n – S\u0103 nu fim tri\u0219ti, s\u0103 nu pl\u00e2ngem, s\u0103 ne amintim doar de spusele Areopagitului: Cel ce moare \u00eentru Dumnezeu e ca lumina ce se preface \u00een \u00eentuneric. (Soarbe din vodk\u0103, se str\u00e2mb\u0103 \u0219i pufne\u0219te pe nas, ca un cal.) C\u0103ci esen\u021ba tainic\u0103, pur\u0103, a Domnului e nega\u021bie deplin\u0103, e \u00eentuneric absolut!<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Amin, du-te-n pula mea! necheaz\u0103 Papa\u0219a.<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Dumnezeu s\u0103-l ierte, adaug\u0103 B\u0103iatul.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bobi\u021b\u0103 \u00een sicriu, mirosul de cear\u0103 \u0219i de t\u0103m\u00e2ie, amestecul de parfum de dam\u0103 \u0219i flori, coroanele depuse l\u00e2ng\u0103 catafalc, apoi \u0219iragul de prieteni, rude, to\u021bi a\u0219tept\u00e2nd s\u0103 priveasc\u0103 pentru ultima oar\u0103 cadavrul, groaza lui pe m\u0103sur\u0103 ce i se apropie r\u00e2ndul, figura cenu\u0219ie, rigid\u0103 \u0219i p\u0103truns\u0103 de fragilitate a lui Bobi\u021b\u0103, care-\u0219i pierduse toat\u0103 moliciunea, parc\u0103 l-ar fi tras un drac de pielea de la ceaf\u0103 p\u00e2n\u0103 c\u00e2nd \u00eei ie\u0219iser\u0103 oasele fe\u021bei, gata s\u0103-i plesneasc\u0103. B\u0103iatul e \u00eengrozit de moarte \u0219i de mor\u021bi, de\u0219i n-a v\u0103zut prea mul\u021bi, \u0219i, apropiindu-se de co\u0219ciug simte c\u0103-l las\u0103 genunchii, \u00eei tremur\u0103 m\u00e2inile, transpira\u021bia rece \u00eei curge prin p\u0103r \u0219i-i ud\u0103 gulerul c\u0103m\u0103\u0219ii. Simte m\u00e2na lui Papa\u0219a, cum \u00eel consoleaz\u0103, umed\u0103 \u0219i ea, dar cald\u0103, \u0219i-l aude h\u00e2r\u00e2indu-i \u00een ureche: \u201eHai, puiu\u021b, curaj, pup\u0103 mortu! Ia uite ce frumos \u00eei\u201d, dup\u0103 care \u00eencepe s\u0103 fredoneze rolul lui Commendatore: \u201dDooonnn Giovannniii, Ferma un po\u2019! Non si pasce di cibo mortale, chi si pasce di cibo celeste! Altre cure pi\u00f9 gravi di queste, altra brama quaggi\u00f9 mi guid\u00f2!\u201d O femeie scund\u0103 \u0219i gras\u0103, probabil una dintre multiplele m\u0103tu\u0219i din Canada pe care Bobi\u021b\u0103 le storcea de invita\u021bii \u0219i de bani \u00eentoarce capul ultragiat\u0103 \u0219i \u00eenl\u0103crimat\u0103. Are \u00eenf\u0103\u0219urat \u00een jurul nasului \u0219i al gurii un fular Burberry pe care se disting urmele ude ale lacrimilor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Sunt convins\u0103 c\u0103 degeaba a\u0219 face apel la ru\u0219inea dumneavoastr\u0103, a\u0219a c\u0103 nu \u00eencerc!<\/p>\n\n\n\n B\u0103iatul e \u00eengrozit de moarte \u0219i de mor\u021bi, de\u0219i n-a v\u0103zut prea mul\u021bi, \u0219i, apropiindu-se de co\u0219ciug simte c\u0103-l las\u0103 genunchii, \u00eei tremur\u0103 m\u00e2inile, transpira\u021bia rece \u00eei curge prin p\u0103r \u0219i-i ud\u0103 gulerul c\u0103m\u0103\u0219ii.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n B\u0103iatul simte cum to\u021bi ochii, inclusiv f\u00e2\u0219ia vizibil\u0103 printre dou\u0103 pleoape prost \u00eenchise ale cadavrului lui Bobi\u021b\u0103 se fixeaz\u0103 asupra lor, ba nu, asupra lui \u0219i toat\u0103 sc\u00e2rna care-i umple fiin\u021ba e vizibil\u0103 acum limpede ca bun\u0103 ziua, e ca o sticl\u0103 de lapte plin\u0103 cu c\u0103cat. Se \u00eentoarce \u0219i iese gr\u0103bit, aproape d\u0103r\u00e2m\u00e2ndu-l pe C\u00e2ine, vizibil amuzat, \u0219i ar\u0103t\u00e2nd ca o cioar\u0103 \u00eencruci\u0219at\u0103 cu un cocost\u00e2rc, \u00eenalt \u0219i sub\u021bire, tot \u00een negru. Din urm\u0103 \u00eel mai aude doar pe Papa\u0219a cum ridic\u0103 vocea \u0219i spune ceva indescifrabil, cu excep\u021bia cuvintelor \u201ebani, curve, \u021b\u0103rani\u201d. Afar\u0103 \u00eel love\u0219te soarele, un bec de 100 de wa\u021bi aprins \u00een ochi, dup\u0103 \u00eentunericul total al nop\u021bii, \u0219i simultan inhaleaz\u0103 aerul prim\u0103verii, \u0219ocant dup\u0103 t\u0103m\u00e2ia odioas\u0103 \u0219i crinii imperiali din biseric\u0103. Ca s\u0103 remedieze situa\u021bia, \u00ee\u0219i aprinde o \u021bigar\u0103. E aspr\u0103 \u0219i-l face s\u0103 l\u0103crimeze. G\u00e2ndul nu i s-ar \u00eendrepta de unul singur spre amintirea asta, \u00eens\u0103 o alt\u0103 instan\u021b\u0103 de-a lui, insidioas\u0103, pervers\u0103, i-o tot aduce obsesiv \u00een minte. Din cauza asta se simte murdar, poate mai mult dec\u00e2t ar trebui, dar tot a\u0219a cum mecanismul amintirii e scindat, tot a\u0219a \u0219i cel al vinov\u0103\u021biei e o caracati\u021b\u0103 cu multe talente. Bobi\u021b\u0103, venit \u201ede pe avion\u201d, deja fiert de beat c\u00e2nd pusese piciorul jos din expresul de la Pia\u021ba Unirii, cu buclele lui de fante fanat, acum gr\u0103su\u021b, pitic \u0219i cercelat, cu curul jos, leg\u0103n\u00e2nd din \u0219olduri ca v\u0103dana, \u00eei vede de la distan\u021b\u0103 \u0219i \u00eencepe s\u0103 dea din m\u00e2ini, semi-isteric, apoi apuc\u0103 geamantanul de m\u00e2ner, \u00eel salt\u0103 (de\u0219i l-ar putea trage pe rotile, dar i se pare un gest efeminat) \u0219i cu m\u00e2na cealalt\u0103 gesticuleaz\u0103 simian spre Irish pubul din dreptul sta\u021biei, p\u00e2n\u0103 e sigur c\u0103 l-au \u00een\u021beles \u0219i vede c\u0103 \u00eencep s\u0103 traverseze printre ma\u0219ini \u0219i claxoane, muzican\u021bii din Bremen, trei genera\u021bii diferite, trei conforma\u021bii corporale stridente, alerg\u00e2nd bezmetici \u0219i r\u00e2z\u00e2nd c\u00e2nd Papa\u0219a se \u00eempiedic\u0103 \u0219i-i sare espadrila din piciorul drept, a\u0219a c\u0103 \u00eencepe s\u0103 \u021bop\u0103ie dup\u0103 ea, o ma\u0219in\u0103 fr\u00e2neaz\u0103 brusc \u201eB\u0103\u0103\u0103, ieji nebun? Om b\u0103tr\u00e2n cu p\u0103ru alb!\u201d \u2013 \u0219i brusc espadrila recuperat\u0103 se transform\u0103 \u00een javelin, \u0219oferul b\u0103rbos nu apuc\u0103 s\u0103 \u00eenchid\u0103 geamul, prime\u0219te dou\u0103 espadrile peste gur\u0103, apoi e scos afar\u0103 din ma\u0219in\u0103, proptit de burtoiul Papa\u0219ei \u00een propria portier\u0103 \u0219i, ca \u0219i cum ar fi admirat aceast\u0103 alitera\u021bie, \u00eentregul trafic \u00eencepe s\u0103 claxoneze mai abitir, \u00eentr-o mi\u0219care impetuoas\u0103, crescendo in blues, e var\u0103, \u0219i \u00een timp ce st\u0103 pe trotuar \u0219i r\u00e2de cu lacrimi, ag\u0103\u021bat cu o m\u00e2n\u0103 de um\u0103rul C\u00e2inelui, care poart\u0103 o c\u0103ma\u0219\u0103 \u00eenflorat\u0103, cu o m\u00e2nec\u0103 suflecate pe un antebra\u021b p\u00e2n\u0103 la cot, \u0219i cu cealalt\u0103 \u00eennodat\u0103, \u00een chiar acel moment o supernov\u0103 ia fiin\u021b\u0103, un h\u0103u care se casc\u0103 undeva, \u00een spatele capului, mai sus de ceaf\u0103, acolo unde pe linie patern\u0103 au cu to\u021bii un \u021bugui ridicol, acolo explodeaz\u0103 acel \u201eceva\u201d, \u0219i simte c\u0103 tinere\u021bea lui tocmai trece, e pe cale s\u0103 r\u0103m\u00e2n\u0103 \u00eenchis\u0103 acolo, \u00een prezentul plin de canicul\u0103 \u0219i sudoare, pentru o reamintire dintr-un ipotetic viitor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Trage un ultim fum, \u021bigara e sc\u00e2rboas\u0103, \u00ee\u0219i face o noti\u021b\u0103 mental\u0103 s\u0103 schimbe marca de \u021big\u0103ri, bine\u00een\u021beles c\u0103 g\u00e2ndul e n\u0103scut de o reclam\u0103 obsedant\u0103 la alt\u0103 marc\u0103, pe care o vede pe cl\u0103direa magazinului Cocor, cu o femeie frumoas\u0103, brunet\u0103, tipul mediteraneean, care contempl\u0103 chiar marea str\u0103puns\u0103 de ultimele raze ale \u00eenser\u0103rii. \u0218i atunci, pe l\u00e2ng\u0103 hot\u0103r\u00e2rea de a schimba \u021big\u0103rile, \u00eel str\u0103bate g\u00e2ndul straniu c\u0103 \u00eenserarea va aduce cu ea un pericol, un eveniment nepl\u0103cut, mai nepl\u0103cut chiar dec\u00e2t moartea unui prieten care zace expus la c\u00e2\u021biva metri \u00een spate. Dinspre tarabele din strad\u0103 vine brusc miros de zambile, ceea ce-i schimb\u0103 starea de spirit \u2013 i se \u00eent\u00e2mpl\u0103 des ca un detaliu, o senza\u021bie, o simpl\u0103 percep\u021bie s\u0103-i dea peste cap tot e\u0219afodajul aparent stabil al dispozi\u021biei \u2013 \u0219i trage ad\u00e2nc aer \u00een piept, parc\u0103 spun\u00e2ndu-\u0219i c\u0103 e viu \u0219i \u00eenc\u0103 t\u00e2n\u0103r.<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Ce-ai zis, pulex? Cin s\u0103-l ierte? Ai luat-o pe urmele lui Gran Masturbador?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Papa\u0219a arat\u0103 spre C\u00e2ine, joac\u0103 indignarea \u0219i pufne\u0219te ca un taur. Are devia\u021bie de sept \u0219i respir\u0103 greu, mai ales c\u00e2nd e a\u0219ezat \u0219i aplecat \u00een fa\u021b\u0103, devine stacojiu la fa\u021b\u0103, arat\u0103 ca un Diavol gras \u0219i b\u0103tr\u00e2n fugit dintr-o anluminur\u0103 eretic\u0103.<\/p>\n\n\n\n – C\u00e2t despre iertare, dragii mei, \u00eencepe C\u00e2inele…<\/p>\n\n\n\n … soneria izbucne\u0219te peste interven\u021bia molcom\u0103 teologal\u0103 a proprietarului, care schimb\u0103 ritmul \u0219i tonul pentru a infera:<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Au ajuns \u0219i doamnele be\u021bive!<\/p>\n\n\n\n Se ridic\u0103 elegant, flamingo, \u00eei trosnesc genunchii \u2013 bu\u0219tenii dintr-un \u0219emineu aprins \u00een toiul iernii, probabil nordul Canadei, unde Bobi\u021b\u0103 se retr\u0103gea pentru \u201epustnicie \u00eentru ciroz\u0103\u201d c\u00e2teva luni pe an \u0219i de unde venea ro\u0219u \u00een obraji, dogorind a c\u0103ldur\u0103 \u00eenmagazinat\u0103 \u0219i a entuziasm \u2013 se \u00eendreapt\u0103 spre u\u0219\u0103, o deschide \u0219i se \u00eentoarce spre camer\u0103 perplex, amuzat, l\u0103s\u00e2nd vederii o b\u0103tr\u00e2n\u0103 cu p\u0103rul vopsit violaceu, cu s\u00e2nii enormi prin\u0219i \u00eentr-un halat din reiat, cu flori exotice imprimate acolo unde timpul nu le-a devastat. Femeia are o figur\u0103 mare, cuprins\u0103 de chinurile urgen\u021bei, pare s\u0103 fi desc\u0103lecat de cur\u00e2nd de pe un bidiviu al apocalipsei, sosit\u0103 special s\u0103 anun\u021be iminen\u021ba celei de-a doua veniri:<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Domnu Baracci, ce v-am mai rugat eu de at\u00e2tea ori? Da chiar a\u0219a? La v\u00e2rsta dumneavoastr\u0103? \u00cel mai \u00een\u021beleg pe dumnealui, c\u0103 e t\u00e2n\u0103r, zice ea ar\u0103t\u00e2nd cu b\u0103rbia cvadrupl\u0103 spre Papa\u0219a, care se ridic\u0103 \u00eembujorat, \u021bop\u0103ie p\u00e2n\u0103 la ea, \u00eei smulge cu for\u021ba m\u00e2na din \u00eencruci\u0219area din dreptul \u021b\u00e2\u021boaielor \u0219i i-o pup\u0103 zgomotos, umed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Kinos se reculege iute, face o piruet\u0103, e urban, elegant:<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Doamna Calimente, doamna Calimente, ce apari\u021bie baroc\u0103! O cuprinde cu singurul bra\u021b, \u00een timp ce baboiul protesteaz\u0103 \u0219i cotcod\u0103ce\u0219te, o \u00eenv\u00e2rte de dou\u0103 ori, o conduce spre canapea, unde o a\u0219az\u0103 cu grij\u0103. Stimat\u0103 doamn\u0103, ce facem noi aici este un banchet, nu-i zaiafet, lua\u021bi loc… Spre ceilal\u021bi doi, aparte: Iute, m\u00e2njii mei, Malleus maleficarum<\/em>!<\/p>\n\n\n\n – C\u00e2ine, url\u0103 Papa\u0219a, \u00eencerc\u00e2nd s\u0103 se ridice, te contrazic, ba chiar te provoc, arunc m\u0103nu\u0219a, gantleta, doamna Calimente e o frumuse\u021be de cabinet, dospe\u0219te \u00een d\u00e2nsa serenitatea Pays-Bas, elle est une creature \u00e0 la Memling!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Scoate ultimele cuvinte aproape url\u00e2nd \u0219i \u00eencheie subliniind cu o r\u00e2g\u00e2ial\u0103 epocal\u0103, dup\u0103 care se arunc\u0103 la loc, pe spate. Imediat r\u0103zbate din nou \u021b\u00e2r\u00e2itul strident \u0219i C\u00e2inele exclam\u0103 identic cu sine \u00eensu\u0219i:<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Au ajuns \u0219i doamnele be\u021bive! Apoi spre b\u0103boi: Matale nu te mi\u0219ti de aici. \u021aop\u0103ie sinistru spre u\u0219\u0103, care se d\u0103 \u00een l\u0103turi teatral. \u00cen cadru sunt, \u00eentr-adev\u0103r, doamnele be\u021bive, venite direct de la parastas, adic\u0103 \u00eentr-o stare de unduire, sprijinindu-se fiecare de c\u00e2te un toc al u\u0219ii.<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Ce faace b\u0103ie\u021biii? url\u0103 Mariana, care \u021bine \u00een fiecare m\u00e2n\u0103 c\u00e2te o sticl\u0103, un Captain Morgan \u00een st\u00e2nga \u0219i o Stalinskaia \u00een dreapta. E \u00eembujorat\u0103 febril. \u00cen umbra ei se ghice\u0219te \u0219i Corina, enter ghost<\/em>, se strecoar\u0103 pe l\u00e2ng\u0103 pere\u021bi cu o discre\u021bie care-l descump\u0103ne\u0219te pe b\u0103iat \u0219i-i provoac\u0103 reverii legate de o imaginar\u0103 scen\u0103 \u00een care o demachiaz\u0103 lent, privind-o sumbru \u00een ochi, apoi, \u00een linia aceleia\u0219i docilit\u0103\u021bi erotice, \u00eei s\u0103rut\u0103 ochii, \u00eei linge corneea, o violeaz\u0103 cu limba sub fiecare pleoap\u0103, o love\u0219te s\u0103lbatic peste fa\u021b\u0103…<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Alo, \u0103la micu! Ia \u0219i ad\u0103 pahare, c\u0103 le-am c\u0103rat destul!<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mariana, ofensiv\u0103, asertiv\u0103, cu pieptul plin, \u00eel prive\u0219te amuzat\u0103 cum se clatin\u0103 spre buc\u0103t\u0103rioara jegoas\u0103, unde armiile de g\u00e2ndaci se disemineaz\u0103 pe sub mobile \u0219i farfurii, alertate de omul t\u00e2n\u0103r \u0219i r\u0103scolit. G\u0103se\u0219te cu greu dou\u0103 pahare \u00eenalte \u0219i \u00eencepe s\u0103 le spele \u00een chiuveta plin\u0103 ochi, cu privirea pierdut\u0103 \u00eentr-un azimut de smal\u021b. Se poate str\u00e2nge \u00een sine, ca un telescop, \u00een straturi ad\u00e2nci din carne unde zgomotele lumii ajung \u00eenfundate, indistincte, ca-n copil\u0103rie, c\u00e2nd se scufunda cu capul sub ap\u0103, \u00een cad\u0103, iar discu\u021biile p\u0103rin\u021bilor deveneau misterioase \u0219i \u00eendep\u0103rtate. Acum \u00eens\u0103 coboar\u0103 \u00een el, e un exerci\u021biu pe care-l face c\u00e2nd \u0219i c\u00e2nd, iar la \u00eentoarcere e un alpinist care a stat izolat c\u00e2\u021biva ani pe acoperi\u0219ul lumii \u0219i \u0219erpa\u0219ii \u00eei privesc coarnele recent c\u0103p\u0103tate, copitele aurite \u0219i coada obraznic\u0103. De fiecare dat\u0103, cobor\u00e2rea dureaz\u0103 mai mult dec\u00e2t cea precedent\u0103, iar lini\u0219tea se transform\u0103 \u00een extaz singuratic pe care-l prefer\u0103 fervorii colective. E micul lui exerci\u021biu mistic, suprema perversiune, ca o masturbare dus\u0103 la cap\u0103t \u00een public, pe sub sutan\u0103.<\/p>\n\n\n\n De data asta se smulge \u00eens\u0103 chiar c\u00e2nd sim\u021bea c\u0103 \u00eencepe s\u0103 alunece \u0219i revine \u00een camera garsonierei cu c\u00e2te un pahar \u00een fiecare m\u00e2n\u0103. Zgomotul se diferen\u021biaz\u0103 acum \u00een c\u00e2teva fire \u00eencol\u0103cite: pe canapeaua extensibil\u0103, C\u00e2inele o \u021bine pe doamna Calimente de dup\u0103 umeri, se uit\u0103 \u00een ochii ei holba\u021bi \u0219i \u00eei \u0219opte\u0219te ceva teribil de interesant, at\u00e2t de captivant \u00eenc\u00e2t p\u0103rul mov, vopsit cu creionul chimic, i s-a ridicat \u00een cre\u0219tet \u0219i arat\u0103 ca vr\u0103jitoarea M\u0103rii din versiunea Disney a Micii Sirene. Mariana s-a a\u0219ezat pe genunchii lui Papa\u0219a, \u00ee\u0219i sprijin\u0103 am\u00e2ndoi fruntea de fruntea celuilalt \u0219i c\u00e2nt\u0103 blegos, fredoneaz\u0103 Amado mio<\/em>, odat\u0103 cu Pink Martini (\u201eAmado mio, love me forever\/ And let forever, begin tonight\u201d). Papa\u0219a se smiorc\u0103ie \u0219i pe obraz i se scurge, urm\u00e2nd crevasele ridurilor ad\u00e2nci, o lacrim\u0103 impudic\u0103, gras\u0103. Mariana pare absorbit\u0103 total de \u00eembr\u0103\u021bi\u0219are \u0219i de muzic\u0103. B\u0103iatul se uit\u0103 fascinat la degetul ei mare de la picior, care se i\u021be\u0219te din decupajul pantofului cu talp\u0103 imens\u0103, din plut\u0103. Sprijinit\u0103 de peretele de l\u00e2ng\u0103 u\u0219\u0103, Crina \u00ee\u0219i \u021bine bra\u021bele \u00eencruci\u0219ate la piept \u0219i prive\u0219te, oarecum cli\u0219eu, pe sub o \u0219uvi\u021b\u0103 de p\u0103r negru care i-a c\u0103zut peste ochi. B\u0103iatul se g\u00e2nde\u0219te c\u0103 seam\u0103n\u0103 cu o vulpe, o vulpe dintr-o carte de basme, ilustrat\u0103, o carte la care se g\u00e2nde\u0219te c\u00e2teodat\u0103, mai mult ca s\u0103 se \u00eentrebe dac\u0103 a existat cu adev\u0103rat, ce \u0219tie e c\u0103 erau basme japoneze traduse \u00een englez\u0103 \u0219i c\u0103 trebuie s\u0103 fie vorba despre ceva important, pentru c\u0103 amintirea ei \u00eei de\u0219teapt\u0103 mereu o senza\u021bie de ardere \u00een co\u0219ul pieptului, ca \u0219i cum i-ar aprinde un mic soare acolo. Vulpea de care-i aminte\u0219te Corina era malefic\u0103, era o vr\u0103jitoare blestemat\u0103 s\u0103 fie prins\u0103 \u00een forma aceea pe vecie, sau p\u00e2n\u0103 c\u00e2nd… nu-\u0219i aminte\u0219te p\u00e2n\u0103 c\u00e2nd ce. Se \u00eendreapt\u0103 cu paharul de vodk\u0103 spre Vulpe, care-l a\u0219teapt\u0103 z\u00e2mbind ironic, de sub \u0219uvi\u021ba neagr\u0103, face un exerci\u021biu mental de a-i \u0219terge toate impurit\u0103\u021bile pielii, \u00eei \u00eentinde paharul f\u0103r\u0103 o vorb\u0103.<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Mersi. A\u021bi cam furat startul, nu?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Are vocea poate mai groas\u0103 dec\u00e2t ar trebui.<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Unii dintre noi. Cum a fost?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Fata arunc\u0103, dintr-o mi\u0219care a capului, \u0219uvi\u021ba spre o ureche, dar aceasta cade la loc.<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Superb. S-au \u021binut discursuri. S-a \u00eemb\u0103tat \u0219i maic\u0103-sa, care a tras concluzia c\u0103 n-a fost bun de nimic. N-a \u0219tiut niciodat\u0103 pe ce lume tr\u0103ie\u0219te. A, plus problemele cu femeile \u0219i b\u0103utura. Asta de fa\u021b\u0103 cu nevast\u0103-sa \u0219i cu feti\u021ba.<\/p>\n\n\n\n – S-a r\u0103zbunat pe prozele alea \u00een care o tot b\u0103ga.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Fata pufne\u0219te-n r\u00e2s:<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Aia-n care-o descrie goal\u0103-n cad\u0103, citind cu degetu mic ridicat ca \u021boapa la pahar…<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Da, da, da. Altceva?<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Paul. Mort de beat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Bine\u00een\u021beles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Pl\u00e2ngea cu muci. C\u00e2nd a adormit pe scaun, am plecat \u0219i noi. M\u0103car am luat sticlele astea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u00cel prive\u0219te curioas\u0103, ca \u0219i cum ar a\u0219tepta ceva de la el, iar asta-i pune un nod \u00een g\u00e2t. Ca s\u0103 fac\u0103 ceva, \u00ee\u0219i aprinde o \u021bigar\u0103, tu\u0219e\u0219te, exagereaz\u0103, d\u0103 cu pumnul \u00een perete. Fata \u00eei pune o m\u00e2n\u0103 pe m\u0103r:<\/p>\n\n\n\n – E\u0219ti OK?<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u00cei face semn c\u0103 da, totul e perfect, apoi arunc\u0103 o privire prin camer\u0103. Doamna Calimente s-a ridicat \u0219i se preface c\u0103 admir\u0103 un tablou cu un apus marin. C\u00e2inele se uit\u0103-n gol, cu un picior interminabil \u00eentins spre centrul camerei. Papa\u0219a st\u0103 cu coatele pe genunchi, privind filosofic la curul Marianei, prins\u0103 \u00eentr-o tentativ\u0103 de dans solitar, cu paharul \u00een m\u00e2n\u0103.<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Dumnezeu s\u0103-L ierte! Izbucne\u0219te, c\u00e2r\u00e2it \u0219i strident, glasul babei. C\u0103 uite-a\u0219a ne ducem to\u021bi, da el prea t\u00e2n\u0103r, parc\u0103… Dar dac\u0103 a\u0219a a vrut Domnul s\u0103-l ia la El…<\/p>\n\n\n\n B\u0103iatul se uit\u0103 fascinat la degetul ei mare de la picior, care se i\u021be\u0219te din decupajul pantofului cu talp\u0103 imens\u0103, din plut\u0103.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n C\u00e2inele se treze\u0219te brusc \u0219i izbucne\u0219te indignat:<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Doamna Calimente! Doamna Calimente! Duduie! Cucoan\u0103! Nu uita vorbele Maestrului Eckhart: Toate f\u0103pturile create sunt neant! Sau pe-ale lui Tommaso da Kempis: c\u00e2t de dulce e s\u0103 stai \u00een singur\u0103tate \u0219i s\u0103 vorbe\u0219ti cu Dumnezeu! Asta face Bobi\u021b\u0103 acum: e singur, \u00eentr-un borcan cu pere\u021bii negri \u0219i vorbe\u0219te cu Dumnezeu! Sau cu Dracu, adaug\u0103 mai \u00eencet, pentru c\u0103 be\u021biv mai mare ca \u0103sta n-a v\u0103zut, dup\u0103 care r\u00e2nje\u0219te malefic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Da, n-a\u021bi zis, domnu Baracci, c\u0103 se l\u0103sase?<\/p>\n\n\n\n C\u00e2inele ridic\u0103 teatral m\u00e2na spre tavan, ca un preot al haruspiciilor, \u0219i g\u00e2lg\u00e2ie:<\/p>\n\n\n\n – Inocen\u021b\u0103, te halesc!<\/p>\n\n\n\n B\u0103iatul are str\u0103fulgerarea unor imagini nedorite, ultima vizit\u0103 a lui Bobi\u021b\u0103, proasp\u0103t ie\u0219it din \u00eenchisoare, scos pe cau\u021biune de Paul, fragil, p\u0103m\u00e2ntiu la fa\u021b\u0103, fum\u00e2nd \u021bigar\u0103 dup\u0103 \u021bigar\u0103, cu p\u0103rul rar, purt\u00e2nd o c\u0103ma\u0219\u0103 \u00eenflorat cu m\u00e2nec\u0103 scurt\u0103, care-i poveste\u0219te despre momentul lui de furie de pe o plaj\u0103 dintr-o insul\u0103 care poate la fel de bine s\u0103 nu existe, obsesia lui pentru Pasiphae, violen\u021ba pe care o vede autentic\u0103, singura ac\u021biune cu adev\u0103rat autentic\u0103, uman\u0103: violen\u021ba premeditat\u0103. Apoi planurile lui de a se retrage la casa din Bulgaria a lui Paul, izolat \u00een p\u0103dure, planuri legate de ascez\u0103, yoga, crim\u0103, sentimentul c\u0103-i vorbe\u0219te un om mort.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Scutur\u0103 umerii, \u00eencerc\u00e2nd s\u0103 alunge imaginile strigoi, apoi se \u00eentoarce spre Corina, din off se aude C\u00e2inele cit\u00e2nd iar\u0103\u0219i dintr-un teolog medieval (\u201eTot ceea ce este vizibil \u00een lumea aceasta poate fi f\u0103cut de Diavol\u201d), Papa\u0219a izbucne\u0219te \u00eentr-un h\u0103ulit care probabil e bocet, \u00eencearc\u0103 s\u0103 se izoleze de toate astea, dar \u0219i de interior, acolo unde se afl\u0103 amintirile, s\u0103 pluteasc\u0103 \u00eentr-un limb neutru, unde nu e nici durere, nici con\u0219tiin\u021b\u0103 de sine, prive\u0219te \u00een ochii negri ai Vulpii, se apropie de ei, ochii se unesc, un singur lac \u00eentunecat \u00een care se oglindesc focurile \u00eendep\u0103rtate ale unui asediu \u0219i deasupra c\u0103ruia plutesc p\u0103s\u0103ri lungi, amenin\u021b\u0103toare, ca ni\u0219te suli\u021be \u00eencovoiate, deasupra triremelor care poart\u0103 exploratori antici \u00eenspre malurile neaflate \u00eenc\u0103. \u00cei simte buzele reci a\u0219ez\u00e2ndu-i-se u\u0219or pe gur\u0103, din\u021bii ascu\u021bi\u021bi care-l mu\u0219c\u0103 de buz\u0103, \u0219i o m\u00e2n\u0103 rece, lini\u0219titoare \u00eel m\u00e2ng\u00e2ie pe ceaf\u0103 c\u0103l\u0103uzindu-l spre portul unei t\u0103ceri sigure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Copyright photo \u00a9 Anto Magzan<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" B\u0103iatul e \u00eengrozit de moarte \u0219i de mor\u021bi, de\u0219i n-a v\u0103zut prea mul\u021bi, \u0219i, apropiindu-se de co\u0219ciug, simte c\u0103-l las\u0103 genunchii, \u00eei tremur\u0103 m\u00e2inile, transpira\u021bia rece \u00eei curge prin p\u0103r \u0219i-i ud\u0103 gulerul c\u0103m\u0103\u0219ii.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":693,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[29],"tags":[48,167,49,47],"coauthors":[],"class_list":["post-93","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fictiune","tag-bogdan-alexandru-stanescu","tag-fictiune","tag-nr-1-2021","tag-proza"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/02\/Bogdan-small-for-WEB01.jpg","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/93","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=93"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/93\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1394,"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/93\/revisions\/1394"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/693"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=93"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=93"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=93"},{"taxonomy":"author","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcoauthors&post=93"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}![\"\"](\"https:\/\/revistafamilia.ro\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/02\/Umbrele-2.jpg\")