Americo Prakak and the Shadows (eBook)

I.
OVERWHELMING SUSPENSION

Nauseating! 

It was without explanation the sensation I was beginning to suffer. I wondered if it was due to what I had ingested in the morning or because of the anxiety I felt. I didn’t know the answer to my question, but the only certainty was that… there he was… Américo Prakak! Without perenniality, regardless of the time, date, or location, he was there like the cypress. Américo only observed the earthly space in which he stepped. That piece of concrete he firmly occupied turned out to be his ally and enemy at the same time. I could see Américo thought stealthily as if each of his neurons in sync sent a unanimous message between them. Coursing their way through the nodes of Ranvier, their function streamlined, a tormenting message was sent faster than usual. His brain was configured in such a way that in burst dictation, it ordered him not to look back nor to stop. Prakak continued to look around, unable to understand the synaptic disturbance he was experiencing. Time returned, and the sculpted wrinkles in the inner area of his eye and eyelid vanished without explanation. Was what I saw reality, or was my imagination at work? Fallacy! What fallacy? His hair gave way to the few platinum strands about to reclaim their original color. The ravages the years had brought and cemented, with the light of the sun’s rays, his hair had managed to regain its natural brown color. The eumelaline had started an endless game, and the enigma revealed his profile as he had forgotten his disguise. All the pieces began to take their places, to be positioned and participate in the expected show about to come. 

I kept watching him. Américo moved calmly while embracing harmony. Suspended from the lamp and floating in the ether, he calmly breathed. The pathophysiology of olfaction had taken a break, which the unscathed sense of smell was taking advantage of to sniff out the scent of plumerias he carried with him, of which those at some time came to bother and irritate his breathing. It was strange to observe the hypersensitivity, apparently, it realized it would fail in obstructing his sense of smell. The deviated septum that had brought him so much pain in the past would not stop him either. Absolutely nothing could hinder the enjoyment of the aroma plumerias gave off. Slowly, he looked at his shoes. It was at that moment he realized they were both pushing against the ground simultaneously. It was like a warning the feet gave, something that came through the membranes to prepare them because they needed to run without stopping. Perhaps they needed to awaken for the necessary warm-up before taking on the great distance. Something like that, as if they were preparing for the great run of their lives. I wondered how long they would run and if they were ready for it. Did they sense that they should keep running until the menisci in the knees gave up? Américo had never run a track and field sports event, but who would want to run a marathon in those conditions? Only a man on the verge of alienation would do so in dress shoes. But the strangest thing was that Américo was not on the avenue, nor in the park, much less was he hiking in any canyon in the city of Los Angeles where he could exercise, but he was there, in the train station. And me behind him watching in the stillness. 

As the seconds passed, Prakak continued looking at his timepiece, an old Bulova watch that over the years had lost the hour marks but which did not affect making out the time. In the distance, the air blew as if a message was carried through the clouds. As if the swirling wind wanted to dance with the detritus and then throw them contemptuously into the garbage can. Meanwhile, I, leaning on the pillar, watched everything. He looked at this motionless man, who appeared anxious and restless simultaneously, a man who expected an arrival or enjoyed the departure. There I kept myself at a distance without losing sight of anything. I didn’t want to be discovered, yet. It wasn’t my time to go out. Although I was tired of waiting, so many hours, so many days, so many months, and even years to witness this moment, I stayed there. I was sure that not even my exhaustion could hinder the breath of his goodbye. 

In the minutes that followed, Américo Prakak walked a few steps forward, and standing in front of the platform, he only watched in the distance, but still, he could not see anything. Suddenly, an erratic noise sounded and stole my calm. It had been something unsettling for me, and I ended up hugging a disturbance. Despite the shock my nerves received, I managed to silence my scream and bury it deep in my fears. I was still afraid, so in silent pauses, I turned to see what had happened. What a fright! With passerby walking, a cylindrical object had fallen. A simple garbage container blown over by the wind had astounded me. Calm returned. Américo, undeterred, looked at his watch again, reflecting a gesture of concern. After a few seconds, he reached back into his pocket and began to walk forward, expecting to see something in the misty distance. 

Shortly after, a machine was heard approaching. Indeed, from afar, you could see the great locomotive coming. A big smile began to appear on Américo’s face like oil drying on a recently painted canvas. With this, the internal anxieties, as he expected the arrival, began. Even so, in Américo, there was still a sprout of despair and unease. The mitochondria in his cells started supplying the energy, and his body couldn’t wait any longer. Clearly, his face expressed exorbitant glee, though also full of mixed emotions. I went crazy seeing so many rapid emotions in a human transpiring in seconds. All was cruel to my tranquility and my balance. It seemed that the train brought with it the greatest happiness ever known to the world or just selfishly to him. Or for me too, because perhaps with his leaving, my joy came. The seconds passing seemed like five years of waiting. With each fleeting moment, uneasiness with its cloak covered the grayish trail painted in the sky. A few moments after arriving, Américo adjusted his clothes, making sure he was presentable and gallant for the desired and expected encounter with the escape car. 

The carriage doors opened and he stepped aside. At the time, I thought he made way for travelers who had to leave, which was logical because he was always known for his kindness and chivalry, qualities we both shared. 

In the ensuing seconds, an announcement came that travelers had four minutes to get to the platform and to take a seat in the corresponding cars so that the train could leave on time without delay. Absent much haste, the arriving passengers milled about because the two hundred and forty seconds were sufficient to get off the train with the desired calm. 

He was still there, standing in front of one of the wagons, stiff and arrogant as if he was sure someone would alight. When the train was empty and with no walking body getting off that was the moment I began to worry again. He did not move. With the same big smile on his face, he remained motionless. So I wondered what was going on. I began to sense that Américo was not waiting for someone to arrive, but he was waiting for the train to depart and to take his corresponding seat and, perhaps, leave our city. As I had thought before entering the station, the most logical thing was for him to transfer or to go and collect his belongings at a previously selected location. Luggage or not, I didn’t care. My only wish was to go away and be left alone. Américo was still there, holding those beautiful flowers and a brown paper bag. Then, time stood still, whispering a witticism in his ear, and he began to smile. I witnessed a face rapt with great happiness and joy; perhaps it was all that he felt when he finally left this place. It would be the same joy I would feel when he was finally eradicated from my environment. Next, the announcement giving passengers a two-minute alert to board came. The train was about to leave on route. 

I thought of going to say goodbye to him and to give him my pardon because I did not want to keep in my heart any resentfulness. Such pique would fester in my reason and soul for not having granted him my forgiveness. Therefore, I silently left the pillar behind which I had taken refuge. But just as I was about to get closer, I noticed something strange about his behavior. Américo had started to walk toward the back of the train. It was bizarre because he moved away from the central passenger cars. I was wrong again; I had understood nothing. All my assumptions turned out to be erroneous. Now he was in front of the driver’s car. I began to have another bout of dizziness, which suspended my reconnoiter for the moment. After recovering and further observing his behavior, I no longer knew what to think.

As the last hypothesis, I thought Américo might be waiting to meet the train conductor. Although I didn’t understand for what purpose, I decided to keep watching to find out. Américo raised his hand in greeting, and the driver kindly responded. However, the unusual thing was to see that the driver may not have had an inkling and continued with his job activities. There were approximately sixty seconds remaining until the train left. Suddenly, Américo approached the booth, and after putting the paper bag and flowers on the floor, he tried to open the driver’s car door. This action puzzled the driver, who with a stern look, replied that the tourist carriages were in the back. However, Américo did not care and again tried to open the door. The driver yelled at him to stop and go back to where he was. He threatened to call security via the paging system but gave up when he...