At 9 o'clock in the evening, I sit at the desk in my study, selecting from among the many empty notebooks I have there. "This one is ideal," I think. I pick up a notebook with a leather cover, embossed with the title "Notes" in golden letters. I take a fountain pen, take a sip of whiskey, and start to write:
I don't remember the date, but I do remember the moment. I was 22 years old, an intern in business school, looking every bit the nerd with my large, thick glasses, casual clothes, carrying papers and calculators. Chubby and unkempt, I diligently walked the halls of a commercial office, learning as much as I could from the people around me and building relationships with them.
As I was bending down to pick up a folder of documents that had fallen from my hands, a sweet jasmine scent filled my nose. I stood up, looking for the source of the scent, and found a small female figure. A thin woman, about 1.6m tall, with white skin, large glasses, and light brown hair tied with a ribbon. "Excuse me, can I help you?" a sweet, trembling voice asked me. "No, thank you, I've picked everything up," I answered, even more nervous than she was. After several days and several incidental encounters, we started to talk more confidently. Alexandra was her name, also an intern, but newly arrived. She herself told me that she was an honor student in her faculty, also very shy. Needless to say, I had never approached a woman before in my life.
I don't know exactly how things happened, but we started going out, to the ice cream parlor, to the bowling alley, to whatever my tight budget could afford. We had a nice, innocent relationship for several months. On one occasion, her mother wanted to meet me and was satisfied that I was the one dating her daughter, she didn't see me as the predator who would take advantage of her.
After about 6 months of relationship, I felt a sudden change in Alexandra's personality, where in one moment she would go from being the most loving creature to being the rudest and wildest, where she would continually reject me.
However, one day, precisely on my birthday that year, she told me she wanted to celebrate at her house. I went to her house, and when I arrived I found a completely different woman, with wavy light brown hair that reached a little beyond her shoulders, exquisite makeup that made her look as beautiful as I had never seen her before, a tight black dress that revealed a beautiful body with small, firm hips and buttocks and a pair of beautiful breasts, suitable for her height. I couldn't help but be surprised by her beauty, which, with her usual loose clothing, was not noticeable. "You are very beautiful," I told her, she just blushed and invited me to dinner what she had prepared.
We dined and chatted, about things of no importance, we had a couple of glasses of wine and started kissing. She was more than willing, before me, someone with no experience in the art of love, yet I felt her impetus. She took my hand and put it over her breast, I trembled with excitement and said, "Are you sure?", she answered "yes, go ahead". I felt those soft, smooth breasts, I started to lower the straps of her dress without opposition, she herself unbuttoned her bra so that I could see my first pair of breasts in my life. I approached and devoured them slowly, getting small moans from her in response. I continued undressing her until we were both naked. She looked me straight in the eyes and said "I'm ready, take me, my love". I moved my penis to her vagina, penetrating gently, I felt her hymen stopping me, "ready?" I asked, she nodded her head and with a kiss, I penetrated harder until I overcame that resistance, she dug her nails into my back. We started that back and forth, until we reached the tremor that precedes orgasm, I clearly felt her tremor and her satisfaction, I finished almost at the same time inside her, ignoring the precautions due for the moment.
We continued naked and embraced for a couple of hours, talking about the experience, and I planning a life together, she just nodded. Moments later she asked me to get dressed and leave, as her mother would be arriving soon and she wanted to compose herself a bit. So I did, I went to my apartment with happiness on my skin.
The next day, I went to work happier than anyone in the world, more in love than ever, and with the certainty of a life next to Alexandra like in fairy tales. I looked for her as always to go to breakfast, I didn't find her, but it didn't surprise me, sometimes she was more occupied and we couldn't see each other. We're talking about the late 70's, there were no mobile phones or anything like that.
The day practically passed, and I didn't manage to see her. I was surprised, because of what happened the previous day, but I wasn't alarmed, since sometimes due to excess work we couldn't see each other.
At 11 o'clock at night the phone in the study where I lived rang, "Mr. Williams, your presence is urgently needed at South Command number 13, come as soon as possible". My heart was beating faster and faster as the taxi approached the place.
When I entered the command, I saw Alexandra's mother hitting a wall while crying, next to her a man -who I later found out was her father- arguing heatedly with the policeman. "This way, Mr. Williams", I walked down a dark corridor until I reached a room with a sign in black letters "Morgue". A tense chill ran through my body. They took me to the place, where they asked me to identify a body. And there she was, still in the black dress, the lifeless body of Alexandra. Nodding my head to the policeman's questions, I cried standing, I didn't know what was happening, only that my love, the love of my life was on that cold, immobile slab.
"Why did you call me?" I asked the policeman, "because of this" saying that, he handed me a letter, which stayed as evidence in the police, but my photographic memory remembers it in all detail:
"The reason for my life....
James, first I want to apologize for leaving you, it was never in my plans to leave someone I love alone, but you appeared suddenly and for a few months you gave me a reason to live.
Before I met you I was very upset with my father, the father I adore, for whom I studied this career and always aspired to be the best. Because that father abused us, my mother, my sister and me. The situation became unbearable and we ran away from the house where I lived all my childhood with my mother and my little sister. We never went back with him. However, I carry the weight on my shoulders of having destroyed my family, my own father told me more than once, that thanks to me, his family no longer existed.
Do you remember the day we met, that day was going to be, I already had a hotel room with many medications ready for my painless death. But seeing you so susceptible, so tender and so charming, filled my eyes with a new glow and I abandoned the idea.
As time went by, we spent more time together and you gave me a reason to live, do you know what that reason is? Seeing you, I didn't know how to dress up to look pretty for you, but I knew you loved me as I was. On your birthday, yesterday, I decided to give you the best gift I can give you, my everything, my body and my love. I don't regret what I lived.
However, my time is up, I already know what love is in all its wonderful magnitude and I want to take this feeling to eternity. I apologize for my cowardly escape, but I don't want to drag you into my bottomless pit.
Remember that I will always love you and I will see you even if I am not here with you.
I love you, Alexandra"
I asked the policeman if he needed anything else, I signed some documents, they let me keep a copy of the letter and I decided to leave, there was no point in staying there. I met her parents outside, from whom I only received complaints about not having stopped her depression process.
I went straight home to cry for my lost love, asking why I couldn't stop her depression. Later her mother would look for me and explain to me that she had been diagnosed with major depression, but that the drugs didn't do much for her, but that when she met me, a light of hope filled her.
I put aside the fountain pen, with my handkerchief I dried my tears. It's been many years since I remembered this story. I take my pen again and cross out the title I had put "The First Sin", and point another one to the margin:
"The Love of My Life"