That Saturday, after gambling until very late, for a change I lost some of may Bolivares, maybe because?– no, I am sure, that the reason I is, I was getting tire of playing with these guys, they were bad players and did not even knew the rank of cards well. So I drank and drank until I drank almost the hole of a litter bottle of rum by myself. There were several of than, Saturday’s nights were like this, ( thats not a surprise to any of you readers that know me).
Sunday I was tired but very excited: “I’m going out, out,!” Even if just to go to a Church that is not mine, (Roman Catholic and I am Eastern Orthodox, you understand the difference?)+ I will see the streets and places; I was thinking that today there was also chance to talk with Dona Magdalena and her husband the Jefe of this place, and who knows what else es he? and of course beside being an: lawyer, lets not forget that, so let’s acknowledge that, in fact he the and has wife may will be my ticket to ride out of here.
They arrived in a new black Cadillac parking in front of the detention house main doors, Charlie call me out, escorting me too the car: “portate bien” he whispered in my ear. We wink to each other with an smile.
(God bless Dona Magdalena and her husband and her husband, at times I think in retrospect it may have been her nagging her husband to set me free; she became my angel).
I was dressed with my indian black dress and I did my long hair on a Grace Kelly bun twist, nice and simple but elegant, very light lipstick very presentable for Church , of course I still had my make up with me, being a model, what do you expect? not overly made up, just very presentable as I said before for Church.
I notice that , I must say one thing, that in different civilisations women from tropical or latin countries tend to overdo their make up going to church, and the young dressed unprohibited for Church where I came from, of course that was my upbringing from my adored mama.
The smell of this new Cadillac reminded me of the good life, that I all of the sudden became too much, memories came back to my mind, my beloved William dancing in the private clubs, sunbathing in the Tamanaco pool, eating in great elegant restaurants, drinking out of crystal classes, real cloth napkins, etc,. men lighting may cigarettes, pulling my chair, opening the doors, where is all this gone? This was so rough, almost cruel, have to go back, I miss it!.
Oh yes I missed that life, seeing my mother dress up for Church,or going to a Russian Ball. All this was spinning in my mind, I felt so weak in my present nightmare. When is it going to be over? I want get out of this situation and out of Maracaibo! It is a long and incredible story!
In Church on my knees I prayed and prayed and my tears just roll on by themselves; I could not stop them! Why am I here?
There was an answer, but I did not know that yet, I was a alcoholic and I did no know at, and that was that.