It's 5 pm, the pain in my abdomen has been increasing over the last few days, but the morphine seems to be working. It's raining outside, so I won't allow myself to head to the bar. I move towards my study and settle into my desk chair. I review some papers I have here and spot my journal. Over a month has passed since the last time I wrote in it. Remembering things affected me more than I thought. I take a deep breath, pick up my fountain pen, and begin to write:
I was a single man of 25 years, having finished my internship that year, I set to work. Thanks to the contacts generated during my internship, I was able to set up an office where I handled tax and real estate matters. Even though it was modest, I was doing well. Apparently I had a great talent for negotiating, and that gradually increased my client base. After a couple of quarters, I was able to hire a secretary and an assistant. My firm "Williams Investments" was a reality and the start of the empire my children now manage.
I was a hard worker, my only vice was work itself. My only distraction was going to the cinema alone on weekends, watching a movie, and walking around. I spent practically all day working, often without eating, until I solved that problem. Next to my office was a small laundry, where a kind woman in her 50s did the cleaning. One day, I saw her carrying some food and asked her about it. I discovered that she brought food from a local market for her co-workers, and for a small commission, she started bringing me food too. Food issue solved. However, one day the lady fell sick and couldn't come for several days, so I investigated where she got the food and went to the place.
It was a small supermarket with several takeaway food stalls, the one she bought from was a fast-food place. When I got there, I asked about the cost of the food and placed an order. I looked up and encountered something unexpected. "Do you want cutlery?" a sweet female voice asked me. I was smitten by her presence, unable to answer, "Young man, do you want cutlery?" she repeated, and I said yes. I couldn't stop looking at her, a tall, slender, light-skinned brunette, about 1.70m tall, with a serious face, not flirty, extremely beautiful, without a drop of makeup, her hands worn from daily work, dressed in the simple clothes of a kitchen worker.
Driven by an unknown energy, I started going to the same place daily to buy food. Not always was she the one serving me, sometimes it was different people and I would return disappointed. I remember talking non-stop, trying to get a response from her, but only finding short answers. The day I managed to make her smile, I was the happiest man.
Months went by like this, and one day, I went, as always, to get my food. Upon arrival, she said, "James, can you help me in the warehouse? I have a box to lift, and I can't," I immediately agreed, she pointed to the box, I lifted it and placed it on a shelf. Turning back around, she caught me in her arms and started kissing me, I just let myself go. A few seconds later, she looked down, put a letter in my hand, and walked away. I somehow left, picked up my food, and went home.
At home, I read the letter; in summary, it said that she was in love with me, but she was ashamed because she saw me as a very educated person and her family was extremely conservative, they didn't let her talk to any man. She would keep the memory of that kiss and asked me not to look for her anymore. Obviously, I didn't listen, I returned every day and each time she looked happier and talked more comfortably with me. A couple of months later, we started secretly dating.
Due to my inexperience, I made some high-risk real estate deals where I lost almost everything I had achieved. The day my bank account hit zero, I went out with her, I remember I only had enough to buy a pack of cookies. We sat on the edge of the sidewalk, "I only have half a cookie," I said while offering her the piece of cookie, she took it and said, "I will always accept what you can give me, whether it's a little or a lot, and I will always give you everything." I just hugged her at that moment.
We continued our secret relationship for a span of 2 years, until one day she introduced me to her mother, just to announce that we were getting married. The wedding was held without much luxury, close family, plenty of food and drink.
Over the years, Sara and I had two sons, both magnificent human beings under her tutelage. Until a fateful day when she was 38, a chest pain revealed metastatic breast cancer. After a short but painful battle, she lost her life.
My tears began soaking the pages of my notebook. I grabbed a family portrait from my table and gazed at it. I closed the notebook and went to rest. At that moment, the emotional pain was greater than the physical pain.