Bromas pesadas (cuento) [ESP-ENG]

in #hive-1103722 years ago

Hola compañeras/os de esta impresionante comunidad les dejo este cuento de mi auditoría para saber ¿qué les parece?


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Fuente


BROMAS PESADAS:

Todos creo que en algún punto de nuestra vida las hemos padecido o tal vez las habremos hecho, por cierto los hay de todo tipo y gusto, pero hoy en especial necesito a modo de desahogó soltar y contar la que me hicieron y "Cambio para siempre el rumbo de mi vida".

Nací, me contaron en una clínica privada, a pleno sol, tipo once de la mañana en un hermoso mes de marzo, dicha clínica atendía varias obras sociales, modesta pero bonita y fue justo ahí, donde se llevó acabó tan macabra obra, de un loco, porque a la luz de los hechos, no puedo catalogarlo de otra forma, salida de una mente enferma.

¡Fui "cambiado" de madre al nacer! Ambas mujeres no sospecharon nada, de aquel intercambio de bebés recién paridos y entre dolor risas lágrimas y mucho amor desbordado, la vida continúo su curso normal imperceptible como si nada hubiese pasado.

Mi madre recordó el nombre del médico que la asistió en el parto, de mi nacimiento por la sencilla razón de que al contarle como me iba a llamar una vez nacido, él le confesó mostrándole el bolsillo del guardapolvo blanco inmaculado que llevaba puesto que tenía grabado mi nombre y el de mi hermano, valla casualidad me relataba ella tan hermosa.

Muchos años después, en el noticiero informaban que habían atrapado y metido preso a un médico por presuntos asuntos ilícitos en los nacimientos de bebés en un hospital de pueblo. En el reporte ponen en el Graf, al pie de la imagen de su detención sus nombres. ¡El mío y el de mi hermano! Como si eso fuera poco, dicho sospechoso confiesa en una audiencia pública haberlo hecho doce veces. Pensé que tal vez por los 12 apóstoles o los meses que conforman un año, pero también dice, haberlos seguido para monitorear o sea estudiar las vidas de dichos infantes, en ese preciso momento miro al cielo y le doy gracias que mi madre ya está ahí, ella partió hace un par de años sin saber nada de todo esto.

El tipo, aduce a su favor que era adoptado y desandando su propia historia, ese hecho le habría jugado a favor, ya que ahora era un médico poseedor de una hermosa familia e integrante de una clase media alta.

Loco, sicópata o ¿Cómo se le pueda catalogar a este ser abominable?

Una sola cosa me tenía histérico y consumía mí vida. ¿Era yo uno de sus doce?

Me puse en contacto con un abogado y le pedí y pagué para que me contestara esa sola pregunta.

Después de desarrollarle mi historia aquella que me narrará mi dulce madre, y al repetir esto se me armaba toda una confusión mental que luchaba interiormente con mis sentimientos más íntimos, era mi identidad la que estaba en juego carajo...

Pero siempre ganaba el corazón, el alma y mis convicciones más íntimas. Mis padres no eran culpables de nada, y a mi hermano mayor lo amaba y respetaba cómo tal.

Me retire de ahí con un apretón de mano y la fiel promesa que en un par de meses tendría respuestas. Acongojado, tanto que necesite sentarme en el primer banco de la plaza más cercana a llorar y arrancar toda la angustia que oprimía mi pecho.

Pasados unos días, menos de una semana me llamo para que le firmara un escrito elevado al juez que entendía la causa por averiguación de identidad y por supuesto fui lo más rápido que me fue posible.

Y silencio absoluto hasta que… como a los tres meses recibo un mensaje al whatsapp del estudio de abogado diciendo, llegó su respuesta y ya puede venir por ella...

Hice una cita y por supuesto me dirigí a ella en tiempo y forma. Apenas entre y me hice anunciar con su secretaria, cancele mi deuda, como habíamos pactado y me senté a esperar a que me invitaran a pasar. Al estrecharnos las manos me dijo si lo acompañaba a tomar un café, le contesté rápidamente que no, ya que presentía que cualquier cosa que consumiera me caería mal. El prosiguió, se sirvió una taza de una cafetera eléctrica y se sentó, bebió un sorbo y se volvió a incorporar, detrás había un cuadro con una balanza antigua, tal vez, pienso, representando el equilibrio de la justicia, lo abrió como a una hoja de ventana y me asombró. Es decir, no pendía colgado de manera normal sino que detrás escondía una caja fuerte y entre un montón de carpetas que había en su interior tomo una blanca y la extrajo. Me hizo pensar en el blanco de la paloma de la paz, en la luz, del aura que se desprende en la pintura del Sagrado Corazón y instintivamente me persigne y me predispuse a escuchar atentamente.

Fue ahí que dijo, retirando una hoja, acá esta la lista de los doce con todos sus datos pertinentes, que el reo entregó para que le redujeran su pena, la giró y pude ver qué venía con un membrete de un juzgado de la nación, con su dedo hizo hincapié en uno que estaba encerrado en un círculo rojo. Era mi nombre y apellido, número de documento y dirección.

-- Bueno amigo, como podrá apreciar, usted es uno de los dignificados en esta causa, la nota al pie está firmada por el magistrado y estamos listos para demandar

Rompí el silencio que se había formado con un "NO" rotundo salido de lo más profundo de mis entrañas, la respuesta no se hizo esperar.

-- Mire que hablamos de una cifra cuantiosa, que entiendo no podrá jamás borrar la herida pero servirá para mitigar el daño que le ha causado.

Gracias, le dije, pero ese no seré yo, y por supuesto entiendo que entre los once restante está la persona qué fue cambiada por mi y por ende podre llegar a mis progenitores, pero prefiero decir no a las dos cosas, soy este un tipo simple, un hombre común, trabajador, honrado y pretendo seguirlo siendo. Así que daré vuelta la página y todo quedará en un mal chiste.

Después de todo tendría que vivir el resto de mi vida dando explicaciones.

Me prometió guardar todo por si cambiaba de idea, nos apretamos las manos y jamás nos volvimos a ver...

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Hello colleagues from this impressive community, I leave you this story of my audit to know what do you think?


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Source


TEASING:

I all think that at some point in our lives we have suffered them or perhaps we will have done them, by the way there are all kinds and tastes, but today I especially need, as a way of venting, to let go and tell what they did to me and "Change forever the course of my life."

I was born, they told me, in a private clinic, in full sun, around eleven in the morning in a beautiful month of March, this clinic attended several social works, modest but beautiful, and it was right there, where such a macabre work was carried out, in a crazy, because in light of the facts, I can not classify it in another way, out of a sick mind.

I was "switched" mother at birth! Both women did not suspect anything, from that exchange of newborn babies and between pain, tears, laughter and much overflowing love, life continued its normal imperceptible course as if nothing had happened.

My mother remembered the name of the doctor who assisted her in the delivery, of my birth for the simple reason that when I told him what he was going to call me once I was born, he confessed to her by showing her the pocket of the immaculate white duster he was wearing, which had engraved my name and my brother's, by chance she told me she was so beautiful.

Many years later, the news reported that a doctor had been caught and imprisoned for alleged illicit affairs in the birth of babies in a town hospital. In the report they put in the Graf, at the foot of the image of her arrest, the names of those babies. Mine and my brother's! As if that were not enough, said suspect confesses in a public hearing to having done it twelve times. I thought that perhaps because of the 12 apostles or the months that make up a year, but he also says, having followed them to monitor or study the lives of these infants, at that precise moment I look at the sky and I thank her that my mother is already there , she left a couple of years ago without knowing anything about all this.

The guy argues in his favor that he was adopted and retracing his own story, that fact would have worked in his favor, since now he was a doctor with a beautiful family and a member of an upper middle class.

Crazy, psychotic or how can this abominable being be classified?

One thing alone had me hysterical and consumed my life. Was I one of his twelve?

I contacted a lawyer and asked and paid for him to answer that one question.

After developing my story, the one that my sweet mother will tell me, and repeating this, I was armed with a whole mental confusion that was fighting internally with my most intimate feelings, it was my identity that was at stake, damn it...

But I always won the heart, the soul and my most intimate convictions. My parents were not to blame for anything, and I loved and respected my older brother as such.

I left there with a handshake and the faithful promise that in a couple of months I would have answers. Heartbroken, so much so that I need to sit on the first bench in the nearest square to cry and remove all the anguish that oppressed my chest.

After a few days, less than a week, he called me to sign a letter to the judge that understood the cause by verifying identity and of course I went as quickly as possible.

And absolute silence until… about three months later I receive a message on whatsapp from the law firm saying, his response has arrived and he can come for it…

I made an appointment and of course I went to her in a timely manner. As soon as I walked in and had her secretary announce me, I canceled my debt, as we had agreed, and I sat down to wait for them to invite me in. As we shook hands, she asked me if she would join him for coffee, I quickly answered no, since she sensed that anything she ate would make me sick. He continued, poured himself a cup from an electric coffee pot and sat down, took a sip and sat up again, behind it was a painting with an old scale, perhaps, I think, representing the balance of justice, he opened it like a window sash and amazed me. That is to say, he did not hang hanging in a normal way but behind it he hid a safe and among a pile of folders that were inside he took a white one and extracted it. He made me think of the white of the dove of peace, of the light, of the aura that emerges from the painting of the Sacred Heart, and instinctively I made the sign of the cross and prepared myself to listen attentively.

It was there that he said, removing a sheet, here is the list of the twelve with all their pertinent data, whatand the inmate handed it over to have his sentence reduced, he turned it over and I could see that it came with a letterhead from a court of the nation, with his finger he emphasized one that was enclosed in a red circle. It was my first and last name, document number and address.

-- Well friend, as you can appreciate, you are one of the dignified in this case, the footnote is signed by the magistrate and we are ready to sue

I broke the silence that had formed with a resounding "NO" from the depths of my guts, the answer was immediate.

-- Look, we are talking about a large figure, which I understand will never be able to erase the wound, but it will serve to mitigate the damage it has caused.

Thank you, I told him, but that will not be me, and of course I understand that among the remaining eleven is the person who was changed by me and therefore I will be able to reach my parents, but I prefer to say no to both things, I am this type simple, a common man, hardworking, honest and I intend to continue being. So I'll turn the page and everything will be a bad joke.

After all, I would have to live the rest of my life explaining myself.

He promised me to keep everything in case I changed my mind, we shook hands and never saw each other again...


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@tipu curate

Wow es una historia fuertisima, está claro que sos un escritor increíble, muchas gracias por seguir trayendo historias tan increíbles. !LOL

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!HBIT interesante relato, hace algunos años eso pasaba en Argentina !LOL

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