Euskal Idazleen Elkartea

Iturralde Uria, Joxe Mari

Narrative (short story and novel)

Why do people always arrive late everywhere? I couldn't answer, didn't know. Anyway you can't know why other people do something. It's not possible to just like that analyse what people in general may or may not do. The real issue is another one.

Why do I always arrive late everywhere? That was the real question in my case. Although I know I'm running late, why don't I hurry up. It seems I do this on purpose, always consciously slowing down so that I turn up everywhere later than arranged. That's arrogance, a friend had told me some time ago. Arrogance? Yes, and contempt for others. Apparently I do that because I think I'm a cut above the rest. It doesn't matter to me at all that others are waiting for me, all the same whether it's ten minutes or half an hour. Like that I'm considering myself more important than the rest, and so on.Often I really hated Livia. Especially when she said things like that to my face, and mostly without warning when we were with other friends. It might be true, as she said, that I like showing off in front of others (although I don't think it's true), but it was also true that she was very keen on needling and provoking anyone at all, and the more people around the better.

Was I like this when I was a child? Or perhaps I didn't have this psychic illness -as my friends called it when they were pulling my leg- when I was little but over time, as I grew up, it gradually emerged and took hold?

It was snowing that evening. Not heavily, more like sleet really. I only just caught the last taxi. If I was already running late, finding a taxi really put me behind.

-What's the date today?

-Today, Friday April the thirteenth. And it looks like snow? A real turn-up.

I realised from the taxi driver's calm movements that he was no speed merchant.

When he spoke his answers were also drawn out and relaxed. Perhaps better, I thought. That was undoubtedly the best way to drive a taxi across the city in this atrocious weather.

Rather than fat, he was a big, heavy man. There was a rosary hanging from the rearview mirror and beside the cassette an effigy of Our Lady of Arantzazu, set in a round silverish medallion. It seemed we were moving along in a religious procession.

-Would you like to hear some music?

-No. Well, whatever you like.

He didn't turn on the cassette. But he took another big puff on his enormous disgusting cigar completely filling the car with a nauseating smell. I couldn't stand the smell. The worst thing -I thought to myself- is that next to the medallion he has a sticker, which in red lettering says not to smoke in the car. As I'm a woman he decided he didn't need to throw out his huge cigar or to ask if I minded if he smoked.

-I've seen three accidents this evening.

-Oh, yeah?

-Yes. And right here, without leaving the city. You did the right thing taking a taxi, instead of walking or driving your car.

-I haven't got a car -I answered, lying.

-All the better for us. We taxi drivers need people like you.

I didn't answer. I took my mobile phone from my bag, called up a number on its screen and pressed the button. After waiting a few seconds I turned it off. The number was engaged.

-Watch what you're doing, moron!

Suddenly there was a screech of brakes as the cars in front of us smashed into each other. The taxi driver skidded as he braked to avoid the car in front, his sudden turn of the steering wheel also skewing his car sideways across the road. Very suddenly and unexpectedly he shed his previously calm persona and immediately tried to manoeuvre his car back into the queue.

The cars ahead of us had stopped very abruptly and as the taxi had braked very late the car behind almost hit us. Still sliding the taxi driver hit his brakes hard again and the wheels danced from side to side. This sudden improvisation didn't seem to worry the driver at all and his huge cigar hardly budged from his mouth as he roared. Roadhogs! Damn roadhogs!

Meanwhile I'd been pitched forward and my bag fell open. In a second all its contents were strewn below the seats.

-Leave it. Leave it for the moment. - the driver said to me calmly, without looking round. When we arrive you can gather up your things more easily with the car stopped.

I paid no attention, bent over and began picking up my things and putting them in my bag. However I couldn't see where quite a few things were.

The tailback was still the same, a complete standstill as each car blocked in its neighbour. The protests and edginess of the drivers grew by the minute, although it didn't seem that anything serious had occurred.

There was no sign of any traffic police -or at least not anywhere near the taxi.

-What a piece of luck. Good evening. Free, ain't it?

Before the taxi driver and I even realised a man had taken the free back seat. He was out of breath -it seemed he had been running in a hurry- was wearing a suit and carrying a leather briefcase. I glanced at his face momentarily. His combed hair was covered in melting snowflakes. From that quick glance I realised that he was about my age.

-Oh. Pardon me, I thought it was free- he exclaimed when he saw me sitting at the other side. -I'm in a hurry and.

I had just given up looking for my things and sat up when he got into the taxi. So I thought he was telling the truth, for I had been crouched over for a few moments and it'd probably looked like there were no passengers in the taxi.

-It doesn't matter -said the taxi driver. You can share the trip, if the road ahead clears up a bit. But it doesn't look good with this snarl-up.

I glanced over at my fellow passenger momentarily who returned my look. He smiled, briefly and nervously and I tried to reply with a smile. But we didn't say anything to each other.

-Idiot! Complete idiot! Come on, move for a change! - as the taxi driver resumed his tirade, in slightly calmer tones now.

-People like that shouldn't be on the road, no doubt about it. Those sort of people aren't fit to drive. Neither are women, pardon my saying so. That's how I see it anyway. And the same goes for young people, they shouldn't be on the road either for they've no experience.

I didn't bother to answer. I was bent over again searching for my belongings.