A sheet of white paper, a sheet of carbon paper, another sheet of white paper. A sandwich of sorts to roll into the electric typewriter again, while Señor Ortiz fakes some coughing from his office, reminding Doña Perla that he expects a coffee to appear on his desk. A good secretary learns to read the mind of her boss. She leaves the well aligned papers on her desk and walks to the corridor, looking both ways as if expecting traffic. Pedro is near. His cart filled with a dozen thermoses, his immaculate white lab jacket marking the slow spread of the aroma of hot coffee for the employees. White cups and saucers with the “Café de Colombia” logo are carefully piled up on the cart, forcing him to push it slowly. When he sees Doña Perla, he maneuvers the cart towards her. “El Señor Ortiz es una persona importante” for Pedro. Men with ties and suits are important people for Pedro.

“Buenas tardes, Don Pedro, cómo está.” Not a question, but rather a respectful greeting of sorts to offer a kind gesture of status to a man who has none.

“¿Lo de siempre para el Señor Ortiz?”¹ Yes, always the same for Mr. Ortiz – “tinto”: Two cubes of sugar, hot water added when the black liquid covers three quarters of the cup. A light brown coffee she also learned to enjoy when she started her life as a working woman. The bosses get the coffee from their secretaries, but it’s an opportunity for the secretaries to get their own drink before Pedro reaches their stations in his slow daily round. Working for Mr. Ortiz allows Doña Perla priority on the coffee rounds and a window to look outside from time to time.

Doña Perla places her cup on her desk and takes Mr. Ortiz’s coffee to his office in silence, never looking at him.

“Gracias Perla.”

“A sus ordenes.”² Señor Ortiz and Perla are everyday strangers.

She returns to her desk and blows on her cup before sipping the hot liquid. Thick raindrops are still hitting the window. She remembers Ortiz ordering tintos in Barranquilla while they sat on the balcony of their hotel room. It was so hot there. She thought it was stupid to drink hot coffee, but somehow it felt right. Perla had let him fuck her, lying still under his weight and waiting for him to ‘do his thing’. When the physical energy was drained, an awkward silence ensued. Neither of them had anything to say. Those tintos on the balcony brought an unexpected sense of ease, aromatic comfort slowly descending to replace the already uncomfortable memory of physical intimacy.

The electric typewriter is active again. The white noise curtain is interrupted when she looks at the window to make sure it is tightly shut. The strangely comforting noise transports her to the lazy afternoons she spends with Nena on weekends. The two of them alone in the flat, lying on the sofa, Doña Perla reading her Cosmopolitan and Nena playing with her dolls. Afternoon turns into evening, and Doña Perla begins preparing dinner for Leo and Hugo – with the disappointment that years of established routine bring. She can’t predict when the men of the house will show up. Most of the time, Nena is already in bed when they arrive. Leo probably around ten or eleven, barely able to stand up straight, his money gone after buying rum, aguardiente or Cuba Libres, depending on the companions in Los Mártires. Whether Hugo arrives earlier or later, he never says no to Doña Perla’s meals, even if he has already eaten out.

Now that the rain is becoming an important matter for everyone, Doña Perla takes time to read all the mail arriving in Señor Ortiz’s office. Perhaps it’s not about the rain, but her way to keep control of the office now that his diary became private.

Doña Perla takes one last sip of her now tepid coffee and looks out the office window. Her life has become colored by the rain, the gray sky, like a shadow to her thoughts. The raindrops on the window run down her many frustrations. If only the rain would stop Leo from drinking and sleeping around. If only the rain could change the course of her life. What if the rain doesn’t stop? What if life never gets better? Is there a chance that it could get better after so many years? Questions intertwined between raindrops and worries.

How come the rain has not stopped today? Nena should be back home from school. She might be getting ready for her children’s TV programs. The office day will be over soon.

An overwhelming and sudden sense of danger grips Doña Perla when she remembers Nena at home. She walks to the window, a chill running down her spine. She feels she’s going to be sick. Something inside her belly has awoken and calls her urgently to run away. She doesn’t understand this feeling and her efforts to find a logical explanation fail when she realizes words cannot describe what she is sensing. This is not her menopause, this is not the result of frustration or anger. She has been transported into a space where her mind, her internal dialogue and her emotions don’t exist. She is now pure impulse, instinct. She feels like an animal needing to escape a predator.

(…to be continued…)

Footnote

1. The usual for…

2. At your service.

Transadaptation Volume 5 – Of Flowing Vicissitudes

January: The Night the Stars Stopped Shining – Sarah-Leah Pimentel (South Africa)

February: Three Sides to Every Story – Krisztina Janosi (Hungary)

March: Rain Trap – Adriana Uribe (Columbia)

April: Priorities – Narantsogt Baatarkhuu (Mongolia)

May: The Night in Heaven – Armine Asryan (Armenia)

June: Witches Don’t Burn – Alejandra Baccino (Uruguay)

July: At One and The End of Misery – Angelika Friedrich (America)

August: Many Happy Returns – Svetlana Molchanova (Russia)

September: And Now, It Will All Go Downhill – Jonay Quintero Hernandez (Spain)

October: (To be announced) – Gennady Bondarenko (Ukraine)

November: You Are Her, Aren’t You? – Seyit Ali Dastan (Turkey)

December: To be announced

Background – Context

Transadaptation Volume 4: Material Dissent – Adulthood Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2023)

Transadaptation Volume 3: Evanescent – Young Adulthood Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2022)

Transadaptation Volume 2: Conceived – Childhood Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2021)

Transadaptation Volume 1: In the Middle – Prelude to a Contemporary Transadaptation, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2020)

Peripatetic Alterity: A Philosophical Treatise on the Spectrum of Being – Romantics and Pragmatists by Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2019)

La Syncrétion of Polarization and Extremes Transposée, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2019)

The Codex of Uncertainty Transposed, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2018)

L’anthologie of Global Instability Transpuesta, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2017)

From Wahnsinnig to the Loony Bin: German and Russian Stories Transposed to Modern-day America, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2013)

Emblems and stories on the international community

Perception by country – Transposing emblems, articles, short stories and reports from around the world

Credits

1. Top left: Bogota, Columbia – The walls of Bogota – Nowaczyk (Shutterstock); 2. Middle left: Bogota, Columbia – In the rain – Andrés Gómez (Unsplash); 3. Lower left: Bogota, Columbia – The old sector – Nowaczyk (Shutterstock); 4. Middle: Bogota, Columbia – Universidad Javeriana – Adrian Cogua (Unsplash); 5. Bottom middle: Bogota, Columbia – Calle del Embudo – Nowaczyk (Shutterstock); 6. Top right: Bogota, Columbia – On the street – Michael Schmid (Unsplash); 7. Bottom right: Bogota, Columbia – Street art in Bogota – Azzedine Rouichi (Unsplash).
Source: The Codex of Uncertainty Transposed